Orleans independent standard. [volume], February 01, 1856, Image 1

About Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871

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A. A. EARLE, PUBLISHER.!
JNTo More Oompromiso witli Slav
ory,
jTEiniS, 81,25JX ADVANCE.
NUMBEU 5.
VOLUME 1.
IRASBURGH, VERMONT, TRID AY, FEBRUARY 1,1856.
ft A
All
itcranj Selections.
AN UNEXPECTED EACE.
In one of the large towns in "Worcester
county, Massachusetts, used to live a cler
gyman, whom we will call Ri Jewell. He
was one of the Baptist pursuasion, and
very rigid in his ideas of moral pro
priety. He had in his employ an old
negro named Pompey ; and if this latter
individual was not so strict in his morals as
his master, he was at least a very cunning
dog, and passed in the household for a
pattern of propriety. Pompey was an
useful servant, and the old clergyman
never hesitated to trust him with the most
important business.
Now it so happend that there were dwel
ling in and about the town, sundry indi
viduals who had not the fear of the dread
ful penalties which Sir. Ridewell preached
about before their eyes, for it was the
wont of these people to congregate on
Sabbath evenings upon a level piece of
land in the outskirts of the town, with
their race horses. The spot was hidden
from view by a dense piece of woods, and
for a long while the Sunday evening
races were carried on without detection
by the officers, or others who might have
stopped them.
It also happened that the good old cler
gyman owned one of the best horses in
the country. This was one of the old
Morgan stock, with a mixture of Arabian
blood in his veins, and it was generally
known that few beasts could pass him on
the road. Mr. EidewelL with a dignity,
becoming his calling, stoutly declared that
the fleetness of his beast never afforded
him any gratification, and ' that, for his
part he would as lief have any other. Yet
money could not buy his Morgan, nor
could any amount of argument pursuade
him to Bwop.
The church was so near the good cler
gyman's dwelling that he always walked
to meeting, and his horse was consequent
ly allowed to run in the pasture.
Pompey heard that these races were
on the tapis and he resolved to enter his
master's horse on his own account, for he
feld assured that Morgan could beat any
thing in the shape of horse-flesh that
could be produced in tliat quarter. So
on the very next Sunday evening he hid
the bridle under his jacket, and went out
into the pasture and caught the horse and
rode off towards the spot where the wick-
d ones were congregated. Here he
found some dozen assembled, and the race
was about to commence. Pompey mount
ed his beast, and at the signal he 6tarted.
Old Morgan entered into the spirit of the
.thing, and came out two rods ahead of
everything. So Pompey won quite a
pile, and before dark he was initiated into
horse racing.
Pompey succeeded in getting home with
out exciting any suspicions and now he
Jonged for the Sabbath afternoon to come,
for he determined to try it again. He
did go again, and again he won ; and this
course of wickedness he folio wed up for
two months, making his appearance upon
the race ground every Sunday afternoon
as soon as he could after " meeting was
out" And during that time Pompey
was not the only one that loved racing.
No, for old Morgan himself had come to
love the excitement of the thing, too, and
his every motion when upon the track,
showed how zealously he entered into the
spirit of the game.
But these things were not always to
remain secret. One Sunday a pious dea
con beheld this racing from a d istance
and he straightway went to the parson
with the alarming intelligence. The
Rev. Mr. Eidewell was utterly shocked,
s his moral feelings outraged, and he re
solved to put a stop to tliis wickedness.
I During the week he made several in
quiries, and he learned that the thing had
.been practiced all summer on every Sab
lath afternoon. He made his parishion
ers keep quiet, and on the next Sunday
Jie would make his appearance on the
very spot and catch them in their deeds
iniquity.
On the following Sabbath, after dinner,
Mr. Eidewell ordered Pompey to bring
up old Morgan and put him in the stable.
The order was obeyed, though not with
out misgivings on the part of the faitliful
negro. As soon as the afternoon services
were closed, the two deacons, and some
uiunui j vi utc lamrcn Ac
companied the minister home, together
with their horses.
,. 'It is the most flagrant piece of abomi
nation that ever came to my knowledge,'
eaid the indignant clergyman as they rode
on.
' It is, most assuredly,' answered one of
""s deacons.
' ' Horse-racine on the Sabbath V uttered
thr
minister.
Dreadful f echoed the second deacon.
And so the conversation went on nntil
they reached the top of a gentle emi
nence which overlooked the plain, where
the racing -was carried on, and where
some dozen horsemen, with a score of
lookers on had assembled. The sight was
one that chilled the good parson to his
soul. He remained motionless till he had
made out the whole alarming truth, then
turning to his companions,' said: 1 'Now,
my brothers, let us ride down and con
front the wicked wretches, and if they
will down on their knees and implore
God's mercy, and promise to do so no
more, we will not take legal action against
them. O, that my own land should be des
ecrated thus T for it was indeed a portion
of his farm.
As the good clergyman thus spoke he
started toward the scene. - The horses of
the wicked men were drawing up for the
start as the minister approached. Some
of the riders at once recognized old Mor
gan, but did recognize the reverend indi
vidual who rode him.
' Wicked men !' commenced the par-
son, as he came near enough for his
voice to be heard, children of sin and
shame '
4 Come on old hoss,' cried one of the
jockies, turning towards the minister, 'if
you are in for the first race, you must stir
your stumps. Now we go.' '
' Alas ! O, my wicked '
' All ready !' shouted he who led the
affair, cutting the minister short, :' and off
it is!'
And the word for starting was given.
Old Morgan knew that word too well, for
no sooner did it fall upon his ears than
he stuck out his nose, and with one wild
snort he started, and the rest of the ra
cers, twelve in number kept him com
pany.
Whc-ho-ho-o T yelled the clergy
man, tugging at the reins with all his
might.
But it was of no avail. Old Morgan
D
ahead of all his competitors, and became
up to the judge's stand three rods ahead,
where the petrified deacons were standing
with eyes and mouth wide open.
' Don't stop,' shouted one of the wicked
judges, who now recognized parson Eide
well, and suspected his business, who al
so saw into the secret of old Morgan's
joining the race. ' Don't stop,' he shout
ed again ; 'it's a two-mile heat this time.
Keep right on, parson You are good
for another mile. Now you go and off
it is.'
Those last words were of course known
to the horse, and no sooner did Morgan
hear them than he stuck out his nose
again, and again started off. The poor
parson did his utmost to stop the be
witched animal, but it could not be done.
The more he struggled and yelled, the
faster the animal went, and ere many
moments he was again at the starting
point, where Morgan stopped of his own
accord. Theie was a hurried whispering
among the wicked ones, and a succession
of very curious winks and knowing nods
seemed to indicate that they understood
the matter.
' Upon my soul, parson,' said the lead
er of the abomination, approaching the
spot where the minister still sat in his
saddle, he having not yet sufficiently re-!
covered his presence" of mind to dismount, :
'you ride well. Ye had not looked for
this honor.' i
' Honor, sir !' gasped Eidewell, looking
blankly into the speaker's face.
' Aye for 'tis an honor. You are the
first clergyman that aas ever joined us
in our Sabbath evening entertainments.'
'I I, sir! joined you?'
' Ha, ha, ha ! you did it well ! Your
good deacons really think you were try
ing very hard to hold your horse . but
I saw through it ; I saw how slyly you
put your horse up. But I don't blame
you for feeling proud of Morgan, for I
should feel so myself if I owned him
But you need not fear ; I will tell all
who may ask me about it, that yon did
your best to stop the beast; fori would
rather stretch the truth a little than have
such a jockey as you suffer.
This had been spoken so loudly that
the deacons had heard every word, and
the poor parson was bewildered ; but he
came to himself, and with a flashing eye,
he cried :
'Villians! what mean you? Why
' Hold on,' interrupted one of the party,
as the rest of the racing men had all
mounted their horses ; hold on a moment,
parson ; we are willing to allow you to
carry off the palm, but we won't stand
your abuse. When we heard that you
had determined to try if your horse Would
not beat us all, we agreed among our
selves that if you came we would let you
m. ,. we nave aone so, ana you nave worn
the race in a two-mile heat. Now let
that satisfy you. By hokey, you did it
welL .When you want to try again,
just send word, and we'll be ready for
you.
As the wretch thus spoke, he turned
his horse's head, and before a word could
be uttered by the astonished preacher,
the whole party had ridden away out of
hearing. It was sometime before one of
the churchman should speak. They knew
not what to say. Why should their min
ister's horse have joined in the race with
out some permission from his master ?
They knew how . be set by the . animal,
and at length they shook their heads in
doubt. ;
' Its very strange,' said one.
'Very,' answered the second.
' Remarkable,' suggested the third.
' On my soul,brethren,' spoke Eidewell,
I can't make it out.
The brethren looked at each other, and
the deacons shook their' heads in a very
solemn manner.
So the party rode back; to the clergy
man's house, but none of the brethren
would enter, nor would they stop at alL
Before Monday had drawn to a close, it
was generally known that parson Ride
well raced his horse on the Sabbath, and
a meeting of the church was appointed
for Thursday. .
Poor Eidewell was almost crazy with
vexation; but before Thursday came,
Pompey found out how matters stood,
and he assured his master that he coeld
clear the matter up ; and after a day's
search he discovered the astounding fact
that some of those wicked men had been
in the habit of stealing old Morgan from
the pasture and racing him on Sab
bath afternoons ! Pompey found out
all this but he could not find out who
did it.
As soon as this became known to the
church, the members conferred together,
and they soon concluded that under such
circumstances a big mettled horse would
be apt to run away with his rider when
he found himself directly upon the track.
So parson Eidewell was cleared, but it
was a long while before he got over the
blow, for many were the wicked wags
who delighted to hector him by offering
to ride a race with him, or to bet on his
head, or to put him against the world on
a race. But . Eidewell grew older, his
heart grew warmer, and finally he could
laugh with right good will when he spoke
of his unexpected race.
Be sure there was no more Sabbath
racing in that town.
REVERSES OF FORTUNE.
There is no country in the world where
men meet with frequent reverses of for
tune as in this. So many are venturing
upon the sea of trade, navigators, with
scarcely the skill of a cabin boy, that ship
wrecks become the rule and not the ex
ception. Hundreds are yearly engulph-
ed, and we see them no more on the
troubled waters. But there are a few
strong-spirited, hopeful, brave men, who
with vigorous arms, struggle to the shore,
and wiser by misfortune, try the. ocean
again, on sounder vessels, and with a
more skilful helmsman. These are gen
erally successful in their later enterprises.
Some are shipwrecked through weak dis
may in the hour of danger ; while others,
more confident, courageous and self pos
sessed, succeed in reaching port. There
are men who give up the first failure ;
there are others whom no reverse or dis
appointment can discourage. You see
them fail to-day but to-morrow they are
on their feet again, as hopeful and as vig
orous as ever. To these the world is al
ways debtor.
When a crisis befalls you, and emer
gency requires moral courage and noble
manhood to meet it, be equal to the re
quirements of the moment, and superior
to the obstacles in your path. The uni
versal testimony of men whose experi
ence exactly coincides with yours, fur
nishes the consoling reflection that diffi
culties may be ended by opposition.
There is no blessing equal to the posses
sion of a stout heart. The magnitude of
the danger needs nothing more than a
greater effort than ever at your hands.
If you prove recreant in the hour of trial,
you are the worst of recreants, and de
serve no compassion. Be not dismayed
or unmanned when you should be bold
and daring, unflinching and resolute. The
cloud whose threatening murmurs you
hear with fear and dread, is full of bles
sings, and the frown whose sternness
now makes you shudder, will ere long be
succeeded by a smile of bewitching sweet
ness and dignity. Then be strong and
manly oppose equal forces to open diffi
culties, and trust in Providence.- Great- j "
ness can only be. reeved by those who
are tried. - -- "
;;.."';! ' :. S From the Economist.
ENGLAND'S DAGGER &. DISCREDIT. ;
This war may jrove a signal blessing
or a heavy curse, to England according
as we may neglei or use the occasion
and the warning it has given.- It is a
critical moment i; our fortunes and our
history : it "may b the commencement of
our decline, or the event from which t
date our rescue aid our rise. It may
open our eyes, orit may seal our fate. -If
we read its lesions and profit by its
opportunity and ihe lessons are as plain
as the opportunity is golden our chil
dren and our children's children will be
eternally grateful to tie shock which has
roused us from our self-complacent leth
argy before faults and bllies had congeal
ed into incurable habits, before rust had
irrevocably clogged all the wheels of the
machine, before the sagacity to perceive,
the manliness to avow, and the energy to
rectify our blunders hal entirely died out
from the heart of the nation. . If our
failures, shortcomings, and mortifications
shall stir us as they wculd have stirred
our forefathers ; shall scatter to the winds
our besotted vanity ani our long-suffer
ing patience ; shall teach us to see our
peril without exaggeration and . without
disguise ; shall awaken both the govern
ment and the people rudely enough to in
duce them to apply the needed remedies,
however severe those remedies may be,
and to break through hampering and par
alyzing etiquette, though that etiquette
may be the most rigid, ancient, and con
secrated folly of the land; then' the day
of our danger may be the day of our re
demption and our security as well.
But if we wrap ourselves in the blind
ness of a fatuous pride ; if we slumber on
in reliance on our insular position, on our
ancient fame, or our unquestionable ener
gy, or our vast resources ; if we refuse to
draw the obvious inferences from our sad
calamines, our humiliating rebuffs, and
our clumsy victories, and leave those in
ferences to be drawn by envious rivals
and exulting foes; if we' alone, of all
Europe, are not enlightened by the facts
which we ourselves furnish ; if we are
not yet sufficiently alarmed and startled
to declare that such things must go on no
longer; if we still are content to blunder
and stagger on as we have done, so long
as we stumble on something like success
at last, permitting our generals to win
victories by lavish bloodshed instead of
by skilful strategy, and our statesmen to
gain their ends by enormous expenditure
instead of by wise foresight and consci
entious appointments, then assuredly
we shall have cause to rue the day when
by entering the lists with Russia we un
veiled our weak points to Europe, while
refusing to see them or to remedy them
ourselves.
This may sound like exaggerated lan
guage to those who dwell in the fool's
paradise which islanders, living on patri
monial property and patrimonial fame, so
easily make for themselves, but it will be
deemed such by no one who is aware of
the way in which at this hour England is
spoken of throughout the Continent. j
Traveling abroad or keeping up foreign j
correspondence, is no pleasant occupation
for Englishmen now. Partly from facts
which can neither be contradicted nor
concealed, partly from the somewhat ex
travagant manner in which those facts
have been blazoned, colored, and added
to by our relentless Press, the impression
has spread wide through Europe that the
events of this war have exposed the
weakness and decline of our country ;
and this impression has diffused through
nearly all lands an ominous and mal'g
nant joy. It is not long since we our
selves conversed with two of the most
eminent public men in France, the one
a vehement partisan, the other a consum
mate statesman. Both considered it as
settled that our strength and glory had
departed, that our institutions were so
rusty and our government so systematic
ally bad as to render our wealth, our cour
age, and our stubborn vigor of no avail ;
but one gloated over the picture with
vulgar exultation, while the other deplor
ed it as a grievous blow to the hopes of
freedom and civilization. Caricatures
and araundrums, not of French origin,
swarmed in the private circles of Paris,
representing our supposed incapacity in
every variety of ingenious device. - We
have now lying before us, too, a letter
from a continental politician, mc; a French
man nor specially attached to France, in
which he says : "I think this war will be
little profitable to the power of your
country. France has gained, and will
gain immensely, by it. God forbid that
it should turn to the prejudice of Ei-
:uiu ; j statesman ui uigu ouice was
" . last ; : Tie jLp i
result of this war is, that ye now Law
the weakness of England.' "
Now, we do not for a moment share
the feeling which dictated these various
remarks, or admit the justice of the in
ference which our foes have drawn from
our positive sufferings and our compara
tive non-succefs. Their mistake is to fan
cy that our "weakness" is inherent and not
merely accidental. But if we did not
know that we bad a sure remedy for all
deficiencies, and if we did not believe
that as soon" as we are angry or alarmed
enough we shall apply the remedy, we
should draw very nearly the same dis
graceful and disheartening conclusion.
Everything depends upon whether -we
shall be sufficiently aroused, and aroused
in time. We have unbounded confidence
in the capacities of Englishmen for gov
ernment and war as for ,the ingenuities
and enterprise of peace just as we have
formed an unbounded estimate of the re
sources of England ; but what is the val
ue of either if the former be not enlisted
and well placed in the service of the
country, or if the latter be not called
forth and committed to able hands ? We
can neither conquer nor defend ourselves
by latertf strength or means- by grand
possibilities of power. England yields
to no nation in the deep intellect or dar
ing and scietific energy of her sons ; but
what avail are these for winning triumphs
in the domain of sacred learning or mili
tary enterprise, if we persist in sending
our stupid sons into the Church and our
vagabond sons into the Army ? We have
youths of competent ability in the Queen's
service; but how can we expect that
ability to bear fruit, if we pass it through
no fit professional training? We have
captains of genius and subalterns of long
experience in our regiments ; but how
can we expect our troops to be well led
if we never place these men in positions
of command ? In short, we . cannot deny
that throughout this war we have made
many unfortunate and damaging displays,
which friendly and hostile observers are
not far wrong in ascribing to incompeten
cy : and we cannot wonder that this in
competency should be set down as na
tional and not as individual, and that for
eigners should be unaware how easily that
operation of our institutions and habits,
by which incompetency has found its way
into positions where its power for mis
chief is so fearful, can be rectified by a
simple expression of earnest and indig
nant feeling on the part of the people.
- But be this as it may, the truth re-
mams, that a very general impression as
to the weakness and clumsiness of En
land is spreading over Europe an im
pression that the day of her supremacy
is gone by, and that henceforth she is no
longer to be feared. Now, it is quite cer
tain that, however erroneous this impres
sion may be, it is one which we cannot
without great danger allow to become
settled and confirmed. And it is nearly
equally certain that, unless we bestir our
selves, it will be confirmed, and moreover
will not be altogether as erroneous as we,
in our self-confidence, are disposed to
consider it. We have spoken these un
welcome sentiments thus plainly and un
compromisingly, because we dread more
than we can say the termination of the
war with this impression uneffaced, and
with the circumstances which have given
rise to it, and which to a great extent jus
tify it, still uncorrected. We do not hes
itate to declare that in order to undeceive
other nations as to our real power,as well
as in order to make that power reed and
enduring in order to recover and to de
serve our old prestige in the world's eyes
a thorough, searching, unsparing re
form is needed in every part of our ar
my administration ; in the appointment
of our commanders, in the discipline of
our soldiers, in the supply and equipment
of our troops ; and who that knows our
countrymen dare indulge in any sanguine
hopes that any such reform will be en
forced and carried out, unless under the
pressure of recent alarm, disaster, and
disgust? The first gun fired to celebrate
the return of peace would be the certain
signal for relape into apathy, confidence,
old routine, fatal and antiquated error.
We should forget our warning and go to
sleep till the next convulsion. '
Great administrative reforms in this
couutry especially when such reforms
involve a rude shock to native habits or
to the ideas and privileges of the great
and noble never are and never can be
inaugurated and achieved except under
an Imperious and persistent " pressure
from without,". This only can rouse the
routinier from their in veterate customs ;
this only can overcome the active oppo
sition of antH-cforniers, "or bailie the
mischievous inertia of ill-disposed ubor
'' ' '"ilv can give to the really
Hinornu. .. -
zealoui! anu,rigui-niin4.a v
ters power ami authority sufficient to
break through the etiquette l centuries,
to deny all claims founded on mere rank
and connection, and to make the interests
of the country override all considerations
of the age, precedent, and parliamentary
influence. - Pressure from without " is
needed alike to stimulate the sluggi.h, to
intimidate the jobbers, and to strengthen
the hands of the patriotic and resolute.
Without it the most sincere and earnesj
of the Administrative Reformers " would
be powerless to effect permanent or ex
tensive good. And who amoncr us docs
not know how slender is , the chance that
peremptory or continuous pressure from
without would be exercised six months
after the preliminaries of peace were
signed ? Let the country, therefore, rouse
itself and rouse the government to the
common work before them. A tirae of
war is in some respects a bad time for the
reform and reorganization of the instrm
ment of war, but unluckily it is the on
ly time our national infirmities allow us.
With us, it is now or never.
. From Life Illustrate'!.
GLEEHPSES OF IOWA.
" Owen, in his Geological Report to
Congress, speaks in the most enthusiastic
terms of the scenery of Iowa. It is his
opinion, as we find it quoted in " Iowa as
It Is," that the far-famed and classic
Rhine can present nothing which in its
natural features surpasses some of the
river scenery of the West, lie says:
" ' We have the luxuriant sward, cloth
ing the hill-slope even down to the wa
ter's edge. We have the steep cliff shoot
ing up through its natural escapements.
We have the stream, clear as crystal, now
quiet, and smooth, and glassy, then ruf
fled by a temporary rapid ; or whence a
terrace of rock abruptly crosses it, broken
. . " i 11 . -mw
up uuo a smaii, romantic cascade, w e
have clumps of trees, disposed with an
effect that might baffie the landscape
gardcner.now crowning the grassy height,
now dotting the green slope with partial
and isolated shade. From the hill-tops,
the intervening valleys wear the aspect
of cultivated meadows and rich pasture
grounds, irrigated by freqnent rivulets,
that went their way through fields of wild
hay fringed with flourishing willows.
Here and there, occupying its nook on
the bank of the stream, at some favorable
spot, occurs the solitary wigwam, with its
scanty appurtenances. On the sunimit-
levclspreads the wide praire, decked with
flowers of the gayest hue ; , its long, un
dulating waves stretching away till sky
and meadow mingle in thedis.tp.nt horizon.
The whole combination suggests the idea,
not of an aboriginal wilderness (so re
cently), inhabited by eavage tribes, but of
a country lately under a high state of cul
tivation, and suddenly deserted by its in
habitants their dwellings, indeed, gone,
but the castle-homes of their chieftains
only partially destroyed, and showing, in
ruins, on the rocky summits around. This
latter feature, especially, aida the delu
sion ; for the peculiar aspect of the ex
posed limestone, and its manner of weath-
ig, cause it to assume a semblance
somewhat fantastic, indeed, but yet won
derfully close nnd faithful to the dilapi
dated wall, with its crowning parapet,
and its projecting buttresses, and its flank
ing towers, and even the lesser details
that mark the fortress of the olden time-' "
In a few instances, the hills or bluffs
along tho Mississippi rise boldly from the
water's edge, or push out their steep
promontories, so as to change the direc
tion of the river ; but more generally, on
either bank of the river, we see a series
of graceful slopes, swelling and sinking
as far as the eye can reach. The Prairie,
for the most part extending to the water's
edge, renders the scenery truly beauti
ful. Imagine a stream a mile in width,
whoso waters are as transparent as those
of the mountain t-pring, flowing over beds
of rock and gravel ; fancy the prarie com
mencing at the water's edge a natuiul
meadow of deep-green grass and beauti
and fragrant flowers, rising with a gentle
slope for miles, so tliat, in the vast pano
rama, thousands of acres are exposed to
the eye. , The proseet is bounded by a
range of lo w hills, which sometimes ap
proach the river, and agaiu recede, and
whose summits, which ure seen gently
waving along the horizon, form the level
of the adjacent couutry. Sometimes the
woodland extends along this aiver for
miles coiitinuou.dy; again it stretches la
a wide belt far off into the country, mark
ing the course of ome tributary stream ;
and sometimes in val groves, oevcrul
miles in extent, standing alone, like L
UuuLt in this wilJeruei-s of jjrass anj
flowers."
" PaK mw you. ivc
so that nobody will believe iKem-
JOHN RANDOLPH, OF ROANOKE.
The Wellington Union some time
since contained a hitherto iuijubli:li'.-i'
U tter from this distinguished iiwmi (wi
regret that it is without date), address d
to his half-brother, the Hon.' Henry St.
George Tucker, on the deatli of his elle.-t
son, a youth of singular promise. It wa-.
found among the pi ivate papers of the
Litter, by bis son, Judge John Randolph
Tuckt r, of Virginia ; and has, by eonsei.t
of his family, been given to the j n!
We are sure that we shall gratify our
readers , with tho. following extracts.
iJuwner of the CrvSi.
"Did yon ever read RLImp Bm'ei'.
Analogy? If r.ot, I will send i! to y.u.
Have you read the Book? What I -;iy
upon this point I nr-t only believe, but I
know to be true that the Eille, studie.1
with an humble and contrite heart, rcv r
yet failed to do its work, even with tho-e
who from idiosyncraey or disordered
minds have conceived that they were cm
off from its pi-onii-.es of a life to come.
'Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, ai.l
ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be open
ed imto vou. This was my on!v support
and stay during years of misery an
darkness ; and just as I had almost be
gun to despair, after more than ten years
of penitence and prayer, it pleased God
to enable me to see tho truth, to which
until then my eyes bad been sealed. T
this voiichsafement I have made the nto-r
ungrateful returns. But I would ivi
give up my slender portion of the prie.-.
paid for our redemption yes, my broth
er, our redemption the ransom of sin
ners of all who do not hug their chains,
and rel'u. e to come out from the house of
bondage: 1 say that I would not ex
cluuige my little portion in the Son of
David lor the iower fc.-id glory of tin:
Parthian or Roman tinpircs, as di scribed
by Milton in the temptation of our Lor I
and Saviour; not for all with whk-h tLe
Enemy tempted the Saviour of man.
This is the secret of tho change of
my spirits, which ail who know me must
have observed within a few years pat.
After years spent in humble and contrite
entreaty that tho tremendous sacrifice m
Mount Calvary might r.ot have been maou
in vain for me the chicfustof shiners
it pleased God to speak His peace into
my heart that peace of God which pas
seth all understanding to than that kno .v
it not, and even to them that do. And
although I have now, as then, to repj-oach
myself with time misspent, and faculties
misemployed ; although my coudiliou ha.-,
on more ;han one occasion resembled thut
of him w.io, having one evil spirit ca.t
out, was taken possession of by beveu
other spirits more wicked lh;ui the lir. t,
and the Crtt also ; yet I tret that they,
too, by the power and mercy of God,
may be, if they are not, vanquished.
" The existence of atheism has been
denied ; but I was an honest one. Hume
began and Hobbes finl-hed me. I read
Spinoza and all the tribe. Surely I ti ll
by no ignoble hand. And the very man
( ) who gave me Hume's ' Essays
upon Human Nature' to read, adminis
tered ' lieattie upon Truth' as the anti
dote : etuee treacle against arsenic and
the essential oil of bitter almonds a
bread and milk poultice for the bite of the
cobra capello !
" Had I remained a successful political
leader, I might never have been a Chri.--tian.
But it pleased God that my pride
should be mortified ; that by death and
desertion I should lose my friend.-,; that
. The death of Tudor iini.-hed
my humiliation. I had tried all things
but the refuge to Chri.-t; and to that,
with parental stripes, was I driven.
"Throw Revelation a-ide, aud I en
drive any man by irresL-tib!e induction to
utheistn. John Marshall could not rei-l
me. When I say any man, I mean a man
capable of logical and consequential rea
soning. I)ei-ui is the refuge of those
that startle at atheism, and can't believ
Revelation; and, my (may God have,
forgiven us both!) and myself used, with
Diderot It Co., to laugh at the deist irul
bigots who muot have milk, iot being able
to digest incut,
"But enough and more than enough
I can scarcely guide my -ii. f will,
however, add that no lukewarm Keeker
ever became a real Christian ; for 'from
the days of John the Baptist until now ,
the kingdom of J.eacn suiH roih ioli.-nei-,
and the violent take it by force ;' a text
which I read five hundred times before I
had the t-!igl.tfct conception of its live
application."
11' Homebody iu Albany is getting up
a rasiroad tar of out of w sought iron and
gutt i tiercha. Such a car eiui Lie jam
med but lint fii'oki'ii. Il iiinv nin-fi I'm.
but ii can make no splinter-, or Lto iui"
jlitubs. The j h a i - u tfood ?:.
;9r
t