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If if i4 H? JPJ SOL. MILLER, EDITOR 1D PUBLISHER. VOLUME HI. NUMBER 4. TEE WBTTTLEll'S 8050. Tkil world H a wblttlinf .hop. Where each ia faihioa whitlle. For peerer, orlaaae, or bappiaen. Fat aleaaere, wealth, or vieUtfte. Foeae whittle friend., tame whittle foe., AD whittle dewa rack ether; Aad ejerrilv, ia f aid or lora. Each cau aad hack, hi. erother. Tba Poet whittle, oat hi rhraaee. With waarriaf aeeatal Ubon At icut, if weaned aot hi aw IT. Hf tireeoow to bit aetfbbori. The Pmiit whittle, oat bil tale.. Hi. ikrtcbn, aad bit leaden, Aad eteaelr hope, to whittle eafh Free, pebliiber. aad readeri. Rrfbrater. whittle off oar eia, Aad all Uxxa wicked1 habit.. That irb at eioeelr to tba eoe:. At peltry doef to rabbit.! With catling tawa aad raaxiea. cold. They chill oar faa aad laarhter, Aad freeze at bow, et era fboold bo Too warm for faa hereafter. On Pre fidenl, bo whittle, oat Official, br tli acre A "Boreae" we aaay ret reeeire. From the aatioa. Cabiaet.aiaLer. F.acb politieiaa, ia bit rpbere, Toilf aa, witb teal aaott hearty. To save the taari, by arbittliaa off Tba rote, of tho other party. Our Aral whittle, off aw Statee, From aeiebboriaf territories Embrace. I heal witb ihiaiaf "tmi," Aad f ild. I bent with aew alorioi. fHir Navy .ail. aroaad the (lobe, And whittle, off lU ratioa.. While retting with it. keel, tba eeaa. To keep ia awa tba aatioae. The drama ba. been whittled down. If we beltere detractor, Br raaaafen who whittle "flick." fnta .oblimevt actort; And editor., who to tho .ky The dalleat bore, are prai.taf F.itnllinf then. a. star." oo hi jh. Who 're only dry alick. blazinf . The ladie. ble.. their charming ermL? Woold whittle oat their farmeata To tba bifbrcato form like thoe Wore by we bearled varwiiau! Bat wbea to tmek eztrraiiiif Oar paatalooai are driven, Xo longer may wo hope for peace. Or re it, this tide of Hearea! Stltct Silt. THE BUTCHER OF NOTRE DAME; OR, THE JESUIT FIKXD OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. A TALE OF THE TIME OP CHARLES IX., OF FRANCE. BY BVSCS, THE PILGRIM. (COXTIXCKD.) CHAPTER VII. THE BENEDICTINE. A MTSTTRT. Early ori the following morning Simon Venlel net out on his return to the city. Pierre hal promised to shelter the Connt ami Allele, and also to take care of All fhaei, if necessary. Philip d' Artoy ronM have dissuaded the bntcher From risking himself back at present, bat lie wonld listen to no persuasions. "There will lie but little dancer to me. he said, "for I know of so many places ot refuge, that I can easily escape any ordinary pursuit ; and, besides, yon may be assured that the occurrences of lat night will not be made pnblic yet. It would create too much stir and inquiry. I shall be wary, and I hope yon will be the same, for yon know not who may pass and see yon. Thousands know the Connt d' Artoy by sight, whom he would never re member to have seen. So beware, good Connt, for remember, Adele St. Anlnay's safety is bound np in your own." Philip promised to be careful, and wiortly afterwards Simon Vendel started for the city. Adele found the farmer's wife to be a ind-hearted, good woman, and she soon wit perfectly at home in her society. At Jut, Pierre was somewhat embarrassed J the presence of French Noble, but he soon found the Connt to be a generous, frnk, open-hearted man, and he made hinnelf perfectly easy. fkJ19 P5 tnostly away, and he family were at supper. The meal nearly half done, when there came rap rjpon the jMri one 0f tne nudren, who had to wait for their eup jw until the rest had eaten, ran to the jtoor and opened it, and when he retained, w as followed by a man in the garb of Benedictine monk. Adele turned pale, ndeven Philip was startled, but they wmposed themselves in a few moments, or there was nothing in ihe appearance the monk to excite suspicion. He was JTold man, and his hair and beard T white aaanow. No razor had touched 'free, for his beard grew freely where "tore had placed it, though the hair was med and curled in snowy clusters "rrt his ears. His form was stout, but with age. He stooped much in his and when he walked, he bore hear "7 npon the stout oaken staff which he rried. Hia long robe was fastened JM the waist br a rone of tow. and of. j mi thereof depended -rosaryJ a..j , beid "1 crucifix. Coarse ""UUK I Ihl.U.J ll a. - - . .U.O.UBQ ,ne sr)leB 0I nl8 ect from cond rne ,n? d!rt ni tbeir dnsl worn v inmcaiea that he bad travelled far. He seemed travel- and the sweat stood in big drops upon his furrowed brow. His countenance, such of it as was visible above the thick, white beard, was kind and gentle in its look though there was a strange gleaming of me eyes mar. was not so easily to be read "God's bleKsinsr rest upon thee, my children," he uttered, as he entered the room. "Welcome, father," fervently respond ea fierre. "Bless thee, my son," added the Ben edictinc, sinking into a chair, and throw ing back his cowl, thereby revealing the whole of bis head, tho top of which was either bald or shaven. "I have travelled far to-dav, and am foot-sore and oppres scd. I fear I cannot reach the city as 1 had hoped, for even now night is falling upon tue earth." "Yon can have shelter here, holy fath er," said the farmer. "My roof is ever ready to cover the weary, and my board holds enough for those that hunger. Here is a scat at onr table." m T . lit -n oi now, my son not now. ai till I have rested." And there the old man sat, while the family went on with their meal, and Pi erro Lafont forgot that he was. a Catholic In fact, it made no difference to the noble hearted Huguenot of what religion a man might be when he applied to him for sue cor. and hence it was so hard for him to understand why others should be so in tolerant He had not in his heart a place for revenge, even against a Uathohe. And then this Benedictine looked so kind and gentle, and his smile was so genial only those eyes, so large and dark they look ed most strange. iut Pierre feared noth ing. Several times when Adele raised her head, she found the gaze of the monk fixed keenly upon her. Of course she was somewhat startled, but then she knew not why she should fear, fur the monk aaid he had just come from the Lower Seine, and certainly he could know of nothing what had transpired in the city As soon as the meal was finished, tho monk sat up and ate very sparingly of the victuals tbat were placed before him. While he was eating, Adele went out and sat down npon a rough, wooden bench. which the farmer had constructed beneath a huge oak. She sat here alone, and was pondering npon the startling events that had transpired, when she felt a touch up on the shoulder. She looked up, and was not a little startled when she saw the Benedictine standing over her. He leaned upon his staff, and gazed steadily into her face for some moments. "Be not alarmed, bit daughter." he said, "for surely no one could mean harm to such as you. I have sought you be cause your countenance struck me as be ing familiar. I have come towards fans for the purpose of seeking a maiden call ed Adele bt, Aulnay. Could yon inform me where I might find her? Adele was more startled now than ever, and she returned no answer to tho ques tion. "Are not you the maiden of whom speak ?" the monk asked, after a silence of some moments, and at the same time gazing steadily into her face. A moment Adele hesitated, one looked np once more into those strange eyes, and at length she murmured : "1 on know me, holy father. "I thought bo. child. And now do you not know me ?" "I do not, Bir. "Do you not remember Aymar ?" "How ? My undo ?" "Certainly." "You are Aymar my nncle my kind, good nncle? "Host surely I am. Again Adele looked earnestly into the Benedictine a face, and she knew tnai ne was her undo that he was the man who had in years gone br. protected her child- hood and yet she could not out (.remote as she gazed upon bim. X here was some' thing in his countenance that brought np other memories, and they were as vague as the landscape at midnight. T am r?ld that I have found thee, gentle Adele," the monk resumed "for I bad set my heart npon seeing you once mnr. Of conrse I cannot remain upon earth many more days I felt my life-tide running fast on its ebb, and 1 aeiermineu to seek yon. When yon were but a help less infant, I made an oath that I would protect yon. or se yon protected, i fsinnrl nnt Madame Roland, after I took yon from the convent at Clermont, and to her I entrusted yon. Has she not proved faithful V "Oh, yea very imuoiiu, Add. She was moved even to tender ness by the old man'a words and tones ; but yet she shuddered again when he gazed np into hia face. It was surely Aymar. She knew it Then why was she afraid ? She could not tell. "Do yon still remain with aiaaame Roland ?" the monk asked. I have been with her until very re- "Ah 1 and have you leu ner now i Arlnlrj hesitated. But at length she .J. nn Kar mind, and she told Aymar the whole story of her meeting with Mal grida, and the result thereof. When ahe finished the tale, the old man brought his staff heavily npon the ground, and at the same time uttered a malediction npon the head of the base Jesuit m ,, 'Malgrida f" he murmured to nimseii. surely have heard that name. Let me im . 1 . a man see: Many years ago, who crossed my way. and returns tcray mind, with the aound of that name. THE WHITE CLOUD, KANSAS, THURSDAY, JULY 7, 1859. And the Benedictine bowed hia head, and thonght deeply. "Ah," he at length uttered, while a light shot athwart his aged features. "I think I rememember, now. King Francis had a young page, and this page was a Spaniard, whose father bad squandered all hia estate, and then turned his son off to wait npon the French monarch. That page was right fully the Marqult of Malgrida, and his name was Juan Fernado. Tbat must be it." "It Is! it is!" quickly cried Adele. "Oh, now I know why the name of Mal grida startled me so. I remember when I was at, the convent in Clermont, he came there and tried to steal me away. I remember now ; and when the Butcher of Aotre Dame told me that the Jesuit's name was really Jnan Fernado, I thought it very strange, lint I see it now. "Did he try to steal yon away from Clermont ?" asked the monk, considera bly Rtartled. "He did." "But yon told me not of it when I went and took you away." "Because I had well nigh forgotten it, but when I heard the name. I remember ed it." "And yon know the Butcher of Notre Dame, too," said Aymar, eyeing the maiden keenly. "Oh, yes," she frankly replied. "He has been very kiud to me always. He supplied Madame Roland with meat, and he often stopped to chat with me. He is a good man, and a Christian." "Not a Christian, Adele. I think Si mon Vendel is a heretic." The maiden started at these words, for they were spoken with much meaning. i'erhaps," the monk added, as he no ticed the effect of his words, "you have turned from the true church." Adele did not answer. "Are yon a Hnguenot ?" "I am a Protestant." tremblingly' re plied the fair girl. "Is it possible ? uttered Aymar. cross ing himself devoutly. "It is, returned Adele, gaining cour age, now that the truth was out. "But what induced you to abjure your true religion 7 "I have the trne religion, now. father. she replied, firmly. iiut why did yon throw off your Catholic faith ?" "Because it was "Speak plainly, my child, for you need fear nothing from me. I hen 1 abjured Catholicism because its whole character, both internally and externally, is chilling to my soul. It is but a system of extortion and crime. Blood marks its track, and the wail of widows and orphans is the music that arises about its altars. In every phase it is infamous, and in every point it is vulnerable. Its highest behests are mur der and robbery, and its ho.iest aspira tions are solBshness and deceit. Its churches are but the home of base in triguers, and its very convents are the hot-beds of lust and debanchery. Its priests are but wolves who feed upon the blood, the gold, and the virtue of the lg norant and poor deceived. I speak not of what I have heard, but of what I have seen, and I know how strictly true is ev ery word I say. Oh ! I would rather die than be forced to live in the darkness and despair of the Roman Catholic religion !" Adele St. Aulnay spoke earnestly, and with zeal, and when she had concluded. the monk shook his head with a dubious expression. "ion are severe, he said. "Perhaps I am ; but the truth will bear me out." "It is well that yon have spoken this to me. Had it been spoken to another, it might have cost you your life." "Aye, uttered the maiden, qnicmy, and with sparkling eyes, "I know it wonld, and that bnt proves the truth of hat I have said. Catholicism would even murder poor, defenceless girl, for speaking her honest opinion." The monk gazed again into Adele s face with one of those looks that made her start He would have spoken, but at this moment Philip came out from the house, and aa the dew Teas beginning to fall heavily, Adele went into the dwelling. As soon as the maiden Had gone, tne Benedictine had entered into conversation with the Count He evinced a deep, and well-stored mind, and his conversation wonld have been interesting could the a- v.; ir . t young man nave aivesiea uiiunen u. vaue fear which had taken possession of im. He was moved by the monk a ap pearance, nearly the same as Adele had been. He could not remain composed beneath the strange gleaming of those ar?e. dark eyes, nor conld be bear the mystic tones of the voice without starting. After awhile. Philip made op his mind that he had seen the monk at some former time, and under different circumstances ; bnt with all his power of memory, he could not tell when nor where. He wonld now gaze up into that wrinkled face, and then listen to the deep voice, and then wonld he strive to drag np from the mem ories of the past, some scene wherein he had seen and heard the same before, bnt he could not do it It was hidden from him a dark and mystic thing. At length the hoar grew late, and the rink asked for a bundle of straw npon which to repose hia weary limbs. Pierre Tjifnnt conduct! him to a chamber, and gave him a bed, and the old devotee did not reiuse it. On the following morning, the monk ate a hearty breakfast, and then signified is intention of etartiog wr we cuy. ne CONSTITUTION AND-THE promised Adele that he would see her again that he wonld watch over her if there was need, and then be took his leave. "Adele," said the Count, after the Benedictine had gone from sight, " who is that man?" 'He has always called himself my nn cle," returned the maiden.'half vacantly, and without raising her eyes from the ground. "But he is more than that I have seen him somewhere, bat I cannot tell where." "There is something strange about him," responded Adele, now raising her eyes to her lover's face, " but I cannot tell what." "Do yon fear him ?" the Count asked, in a whisper. The fair girl started, and a pallor over spread her face. "I know not," she said. "I hope he does not mean ns harm." And so the Count talked, but they came not to a comprehension of tho mys tery that enveloped the monk. The more they pondered, the mare entangled they became, and when they dropped the sub ject, their thoughts were as busy as ever in trying to probe the mystery of the Benedictine. CHAPTER VIII. a AT A3 AT WORK. Again let ns look into the palace of the Louvre. Catharine de Media's was in one of her own apartments, and it was even ing. The Jesuit, Malgrida, was with her, and they had been conferring long togeth er. Ihe face of the latter was lighted by an exultant look, and the features of the Queen boro that same impenetrable coldness that always marked them, save when moved by passion. Catharine had sent for her son, and he soon entered. Charles looked more pale than usual, and his eyes, which were red and sunken. showed that he had not slept much of late. "What is it now, my mother! the young monarch asked, throwing his plu med cap upon the floor, and sinking into a chair. "I have called you upon this business of the lltignenots. I he .Nuncio and my self have been conferring npon the sub ject." "Then why do you not confer it out ?" impatiently exclaimed the King. "15y the holy mass, I want none of this npon my mind. "But von must have it there. Your Catholic subjects are looking towards you for connscl and assistance. Beware that yon do not disappoint them ! Young Quite will assist you !" "Enough of that," uttered Charles, starting at his mother's low, meaning toues. "Tell roe what you have done in your conference.' "We have done this : Yon must at once issue orders to the inquisitors to have the leading spirits of the Protestants ar rested. Let there set their familiars at the work, and have those put to the torture who know anything of the plots that may be working. I think," the Queen continued, fixing her eyes keenly upon her son, and speaking very carefully, that there is a plot on foot among the Huguenots, for assassinating the King !" " Me ? Assassinating me ?" cried Charles. "Aye for assassinating you. The Nuncio has been among them, and he has heard wisperings of such a plot." . "Aye," added Malgrida, as the King instinctively turned towards him, " I have heard of such a plot The Hogne nots are determined to destroy the whole royal family." " But who who meditates this ?" stammered Charles, affrighted. "I have beard that the Count de Alor- ronay knew of it, and that also did Sir John de Hois," answered the Jesuit Impossible !" ottered the Kingv "Lp- on my son!, I do not believe those two brave gentlemen would be guilty of so foul a crime. Try them ! Try them !" cried the QneenI stamping her foot npon the floor. "Put them to the torture, and see if they will not confess. Sorely, you will not calmly sit down and give up your life. "No I will not." "Then seize de Marronay, and John de Hois, at once. Nip this fonl conspiracy in the bnd, or your head may fall ere you know it" The young King was now fairly star tled. Natnrally timid of unseen dangers, he was sorely moved, now, for of late his mind had been in anything bnt an easy condition. They shall be arrested at once," he uttered, starring back and bringing hia hands together with a Tenement empnasis. "But let it be done secretly," interposd the Queen. "Let the inquisitors have the whole handling of it and then their ar rest will not make disturbance among tbeir friends, for there is need that this matter should be conducted -as secretly as possi ble, in order that we may find ont the whole plot" "It shall be done, mother." "It must be done. And there is an other, too, who must keep them company the Count Philip d' Artoy. He is dangerous at large, for he is one of the most generally esteemed among the Hu guenots." "Let it be so. By the powers of hea Ten, we shall see if the King's head is safer "There is no fear if yon are only deter mined." resumed Catharine. "Only a King, and yoa are safe." UNION. "I am a King." said Charles, and as he spoke, he strode proudly across the room. "And yet," he added, as he re turned, "that Butcher of Notre Dame escaped me. Many times within the past few days, has he been seen, and yet he cannot be captured." "Set the familiars npon hia track, and they will und him." "1 u nave him yet iiut hrst 1 II see to de Marronay and de no is. The fa miliars shall be npon their track ere an other sun rises to light them on in tbeir murderous plot. Assassinate the King, will they 7 We shall see." And thus speaking, Charles hurried from the apartment When he was gone, the Queen mother turned to the Nnncio, and with a dark smile npon her features, she said : "So our plan works. If eithor de Marronay or de Hois can be tortured into confessing a plot against the King's life, then he is snre for the work. I have sworn that the Huguenots shall die, and our Papal master shall see that Catharine de Medicis can do his bidding. "But if neither of these will confess ?" snggested the Jesuit. "Then, perhaps d' Artoy will ; and if he does not, then we ranst continue the arrests nntil such a confession can be tor tured out of somebody. It is absolutely necessary that Charles should be made to believe that there is a plot among the Protestants against his life, and when we can do that, then his assistance is sure. We must work upon his fear some, for his conscience troubles him not a little." "Of course he will have the nobles whom you have accused to him, arrested at once." "Most assuredly he will. Oh, our plot works well. The Pope shall yet see France free from the accursed tread of heretics, and when the last one dies, he may thank Catharine for the holy job." "And never fear bnt that he will thank you, royal lady." And thus did the Queen mother plot with the emissary of the Pope against her own people, and even against her own child ! Well did she know that Charles had some real manhood yet left in his soul. She had tried to crush it out hut she could not. She had set the wino-cnp before him, but he would not give np to it. She had thrown vice and temptation of all kinds in his way, and yet a part of his soul was left. It was a deep, dam nahle plot she had laid for the furtherance of Catholic interests, and Charles hal re coiled from it at first with absolute hor ror. By teasing and misrepresenting she had got mm to consent, but yet she saw tbat he trembled in view of the work. He had promised her, but she feared to trust him. But now she had arranged a plan that was to accomplish almost the whole of her fiendish purpose, ahe would make him Jjelieve that the Protestants had conspired against his life, and her work with him would be done. The poor, weak King had heard her falsehood, and he believed it ! to bb cojitinckd. Death op Db. Bailey. Dr. Gamaliel Bailey, Editor and publisher of the Na tional Era, died at sea on board the Arago on the 5th nit Dr. B. had been an in valid for some months, and at the time of his death was on his way to Europe in the hope of regaining his health. He was born at Mount Holley, N. J., in 1807, studied medicine in Philadelphia, aad took his degree in 1828. After serving as ship's physician on a trip to China, he commenced his career in journalism in Baltimore as the Editor of the Methodist Protestant. Subsequently, in 1831, he removed to Cincinnati, where he was ap pointed physician to the Cholera Hospital during the prevalence of that epidemic. In 1836 be joined the late James i. liir- cey in the publication of the Philanthro- . . m . : pist, a "jiuercy party paper n wiu.'iuubi.i. His paper met the nsual fate ef all Anti- Slavery jonrnals in those times, his press and printing office being several tiraea destroyed by mobs. Mr. JJirney witn- drew from the paper in 1837, and was supported by the Philanthropist for the Presidency, in X84U. isir. isauey con tinned the publication of his paper till 1847, when it was merged in the N atonal Era, an Anti-Slavery paper published in Washington by the American and For eign Anti-Slavery Society, of which Dr. B. was chosen Editor. In 1848 he pur chased the paper from the Society, and continned its publication on his own ac count As an editor, though by no means violent, he was quite too plain-spoken 16 snit the meridian of Washington, and the mob decided to destroy his press. His office was besieged for two or three days, but he was not driven from his post In 1856, Dr. Bailey supported Fremont and has since acted with the Republican party. His paper has maintained a high literary character, and first gave Mrs. Stowe story of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," to the world. Dr. Bailey was a gentleman of amiable disposition, and of decided opin ions, and was a writer of considerable vigor and ability. Hon. Jomr M. Botts. A lengthy letter from this gentleman appears ia the Richmond Whig, in which he declares hia purpose to prosecute O. Jennings Wise. Esa.. for libel, and to award the damages thns obtained, to some benevo lent society. Th Ernci or it. The Milwaukie News aava that since Sickles 'ahot Key, an la than, thirty-four mea have been shot, er shot at. by injured husbands, that we have account of. TERMS JtsttllaiifDus. VIOLA. Ska aa. paaaad, like a eird, fraea too aaiaatrel taroaf ; Sha aa. gow to tka iaae where the loeelj lalaag; Her plaao ia baiboa by her lover1, aide. Tat ai. k art li fall of a.. Mr eoaaf bride: Tho fcopoa of ail heart are eta.baa aaa ho a. Aad aa thiake of hia lore, ia bar loaf arbito aliraad; And tho frafraat t(hs of her parfaaied areata. Were tinea froa. ker lip., T hi. rival Death. Lit: he a. a kird's, were her aariafiaf foet Her heart aa joyoaa her aaaf aa iweet Yet aaeer apaia aball that boon be Mined With its (lad, wild aoaf , like a aiafia bird; Never aeaia ahall the atraiaa bo rear. That ia aweetaeaa dropped fraea bar ailver loafae: TLo aaa.ie i. over, and Deaths eold dart Bath broke a tho ipell of that free, (lad heart. Oft at ore, whea the breeze i. .till, Aad tho aaooa Boat, ap tho diataat hill, Aad I vraader alooo aiid tba Sanaaer bower, Aad wreath aay locka with the iweet wild flower., I thiok of the time wken aba linfered there. With ker atild blaa eyaa, aad bar lonf fair hair: I will treaaare her aaaae ia ray boaoaa. core Bat aiy heart 1 tad 1 caa aiaf ao at ore. Picture of South Carolina. W. II. Trescot, author of several works on American Diplomacy, recently delivered an address before the bouth Carolina Historical Society, and in an analysis of the character of the South, as changed by the influence of political strife, deprecated the departure from the old conservatism. In a few words he unveils the spirit of a lawless Democra cy, lie says : " On the one side we have honest and true men, goaded by the irritating con troversies of the day into fierce impa tience, relying to unjust and unscrupulous denunciation, by a rude and unnatural arrogance that offends friends as well as foes, who meet one insane and disorgan izing policy by another as vicions snd unlawful, for whom a petnlant suspicion has created a restless insolation that strives to conceal its sense of weakness by a noisy boastfulness of strength; who, exaggerating many of the very best fea tures of our character, present to the world a distorted picture of Old Carolina. For if slavery that institution in defence of which they stand with all the courage, if not the temper, of their fathers has done anything for ns, it has made us a grave, earnest, resolute, just people. Look at the great men in whom the State lives the Itutledges and Pinckneys of the Jtev olution ; men of a later day, like Uail lard, and Sumter, and Judge Smith, and Lowndes, and Calhoun, and Hayne, and Cheves, and Drayton, and so many otb ers, not less honored, and who have lived and died in some service of the State. How strong, and yet how quiet ; calm resolute men ; just and generous, and firm ; men who governed others because they governed themselves ; men who, in the very tempest of party strife 'tVoald love the (leaajt of rood that broke Froea either lide; aor veil their eve.. " While, on the other side, we have men equally honest, who, wearied and disgusted with these extravagances, would rashly destroy those peculiarities of our State character and Constitution, which are liable to snch mischievous exaggera tion ; who would eradicate our old State pride ; destroy the old conservative cha racter of our State politics; strip ns bare of all tho glorious achievements of the past, nnd drive us, destitute and dishon ored, into a fit companionship of a vag abond and demoralized Democracy Democracy which, in the language of one of the boldest and honestest thinkers in the country, 'has modified our State Constitutions in a Democratic sense; has destroyed the independence of the Judi ciary, by rendering the Judges elective by the people, for short terms of service. and re-eligible; tampered with the noble system of the common law ; assailed the principle of vested rights ; struck at the very principle of constitutional govern ment by asserting Tor the people in cau cus the rights which they can have only in convention legally assembled ; and removed, as far as possible, every obsta cle to to the immediate expression in law of the will or caprice of the majority for the time; in a word, which bas done ev erything it could to render onr Govern ment an absolute Democracy, as incom patible with Kl-jrty as absolute monarchy itself.'" The "remarkable prediction" of Hum boldt that be would die in the year 1859, was simply his conclusion from a close observation of the decay of his physical powers. It was remarbable only in show ing the superiority of the mind over the body, and the scientific accuracy with hich the mind could determine toe point of time when the physical machinery would wear out. On. Commercial. 'a Ths Drxzssiovs aid Popclatio or Wall Stekt. Wall Street, in the city of New York, which is about half a mile long, has o.uuu inhabitants, ana forty miles of stairway. So say l Mr. Lake, the letter-carrier. The plantation of Senator Douglas, down the Mississippi, has been submerg ed : and aa misfortunes never come sin gly, there has been a good deal of cold . ., ... i water tnrown on ois pouueau proapecu recently. LouinilU Journal. William L. Goggin having failed of an election in the State of Virginia, the Petersburg Intelligencer believes that he caa do better in all the States together, and accordingly names him aa a candi date for President $2.00 TER AXXFtf, IS iDTAME. WHOLE NUMBER, 108. Horace Greeley oa Xaniu. ' In his last letter to the Tribune, Mr. Greeley thus sums m hit opinion' of the natural resources of Kansas : I like Kansas that is natural Kansas better than I had expected to. The aoil is richer and deeper ; the timber is more generally Siffuaed; the country mora rolling than I had aupposed them. There are of course heavy drawbacks in remoteness from the seaboard, heavy charges for bulky goods, Tow prices of produce, Indian reserves, and the high1 price of good lumber. I consider Kansas well watered no Prairie State better. I do not confine this remark to the present, when- every thing is flooded, and likely to be more so, I mean that springs, streams, creeks, riv ers, are quite universal, r or my own private drinking, I should like a supply not so much impregnated with lime ; but, for limestone water, this is generally quite good. And the limestone itself, is among the chief blessings of Kansas. I presume it underlies every foot of bet soil I have yet traversed, with nearly every square mile that will be comprised within the State of Kansas. Yon see it cropping out from almost every bluff ; it lier thickly strewn in bowlders over the surface of every headland or promontory that makes out into the bottoms, low prairies or ravines; so that if yon want to nse it it is alwayr to be drawn for rolled.) down- hill. Though not here needed as a fertilizer, iC can everywhere be quarried with little la' bor into building-stone, or burned for use in putting np chimneys and plastering walls. But an unpleasant truth must ba stated: . There are too many idle, shiftless people ; in Kansas. 1 speak not here of lawyers, gentlemen, speculators, and other non- producers, who are in excess here as else where; I allude directly to those who call themselves settlers, and who would be farmers if they were anything. To see a man squatted on a quarter-section, in a cabin which wonld make a fair hog pen, but is unfit for a human habitation, and there living from hand to month, by little of thia and a little of that. witl hardly an acre of prairie broken, (some times without a fence np,) with no gar' den, no fruit trees, "no nothing" wait" ing for some one to come along and buy ont his "claim," and let him move on to repeat the operation somewhere else this is enough to give a cheerful man the horrors. Ask the squatter what he means, and he can give yon a hundred good ex cuses for his miserable condition. He has no breaking team ; he has little or no good rail timber; he haa had "the shakes;" his family have been sick : he lost two- years nd some stock by the Border Ruf fians, etc., ifec. But all this don't over bear the facts that, if he has no- goodT timber, some of his neighbors have if ia abundance, and would be very gladf to have him work part of it into rails, oa shares, at a fair rate ; and if bo haa no breaking team, he can hire out in haying ana Harvest, ana get nearly or quite two acres broken next month for every faith ful week's work he chooses to give at that bnsy season. The poorest man onght thus to be able to get ten acres broken. fenced, and into crop each year. For poor men gradually hew farms ont of heavy timber, where every fenced and cultivated acre bas cost twice or thrice the work it does here. As to the infernal spirit of Land Specu lation and Monopoly, I think no State ever suffered from it more severely than this. The speculators in broadcloth are not one whit more rapadous or pernicious than the speculators in rag-, while the latter are forty times more numerous. Land speculation here is about the only business in which a man can embark witb no other capital than aa easy conscience. t or example : 1 rode up the blues back of Atchison, and ont three or fonr miles on the high, rolling prairie, so as to have some fifteen to twenty square miles in new at one glance. On all this inviting area, there were perhaps half a dozen noor or middling habitations, while not one acre in each bond red were fenced or bro ken. My friend informed me that every rood I saw was "pre-empted," and held at thirty ap to a hundred dollars or more per acre. "1 re em p ted r' 1 exclaimed ; "how pre-empted f by living or lying T Well" he responded, "they live a little and lie a little." I conld see abundant evidence of the lying, not at all of tho living. To obtain a pre-emption, tho squatter must swear that he actually re sides on the quarter section he applies tore has built a habitation aad made other improvement, there, and wants the land for bis own nse and that of his family. The squatters who took possession of these lands must every one have commit- ted gross perjury in obtaining pre-emption and so it is all over the Territory, wherever a lot is supposed likely to 11 1 for more than the minimnm price. Got. Wise, in his recent letter to Hon. David Hubbard, airs his Scriptural pro ficiency a little, and says : " The Sea bens have tried to sell me Tnto Egypt for my dreaming." The New York Ex press, better potted in Biblical lore, telle the Governor that his reference is all wrong, for it so happens that Reoben waa the only of Joseph's brethren who did not want to sell binu Theodore 8. Fay, onr Minister to Swit- xerland, who it is said will soon be re called, has not been within the limits of the United States for thirty years.