Green-Mountain freeman. [volume], January 15, 1846, Image 1

About Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884

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6 RE E'-ft
r wis f i r i wi A v
Liberty and Equality, .Han's common Urthrt ghl, Col ticft,f eirttUHsiouadI,awthctr,lerc,,te.
MONTPELIEE, VI, THOEiDAY, JANUARY 15, 1846.
VOL. Ill, NO. .3
BY POLAND & BllIGGS.
fi
fV
"7
Biographical
From the New York Evangelist
Louis Philippe, King of the Frencli.
BY REV. J. S. C. ABBOTT.
( Continued.)
While the conflict was raging in Paris, between
.the troops of Charles X. and the insurgent people, it is
said that the king with his son, stood upon the towers
of his palace at St. Cloud, about six miles from the city,
with his spy-glass in his hand, anxiously watching the
National flag, the emblem of the Bourbon power, as it
floated from the battlements of the Tuilleries. Sud
denly he saw it fill, and the tri-colored dug of victori
ous rebellion rose and was unfurled in its stead. It
revealed to him at a glance that all was lost that his
honor and his crown had fallen forever. The next
moment he saw the dust raised by his retreating troops
flying from the city, Charles and his family, accom
panied by a email relinuu, fled in the utmost coiistcr-
niUml to RaiiilialBoi,' 'Jum. tlilrty miles from Uio to
Volted capital.
And now the cry resounds through the streets of
Paris "to Rambuillet!" "to Rambuillet!" Scarcely
had Charles arrived, with his fugitive household, at his
hunting-seat, ere the alarm couriers rushed from their
nhtiiig-foaming steods into the presence of the royal
family, to tell them, with pale lips, that all Paris was
on the march to attack them. Men, women and chil
dren, on horseback, in hacks and omnibnsses, carts, and
on foot a motley throng of uncounted thousands, were
on the way to pay their (alien monarch a most unwel
come visit. It was a vivid revival of the scenes of ter
ror in the old French Revolution. Charles had not
forgotten the awful day in which his brother Louis was
torn from his throne and his palace; and dragged in a
cart to a most ignominious death. The sun had al
ready gone down, and darkness overshadowed the land.
It was indeed a night of terror and of tears, when
Charles and the royal family, in midnight gloom, pre
cipitately entered their carriages, surrounded by a few
faithful adherents, imd fled from their foes. As the
infuriated shouts of the multitude swelled upon the
night air, mingled with the crackling fire of musketry
and the distant thunders of heavy artillery, the Bour
bons commenced their melancholy journey from regal
magnificence to ignominy and exile.
When the next morning's sun rose above the
hills of France, this funeral procession of de
parted power was seen winding its mournful way
through the distant provinces of the empire, to
find in forobru hinds a refuge and a grave. The
alarm-hell1; f the nation tolled the knell of de
Darted rov iltv, while every now and then ca.me
peeling through the air tiie deep and distant
thunders of the insurrection gun. The tri-colored
flag of triumphant revolt, floating from eve
ry castle and streaming from every turret, pro
claimed th'it the Rotirhons had gone down it""
.'..-srwv'' Vim whence there was no resurrection.
Charles and his son and iiis
granu-son,
three
generations of kings, with the sobbing femaics
of the royal family, witnessed these sight? and
ncaru tnese sounds witti emotions wnicii no
language can describe. They darkened the
windows of their carriages, that they might con
ceal from the popular gaze their countenances,
wan and wasted with sleeplessness and terror and
despair. .Apprehensive every hour ol'.nrrest and
consignment to' t'ne'tliiiigeon or the guillotine,
they hardly ventured to alight for rclieshir.cnt v.;'
repose, in their funeral flight from the splendors
and the honors of the Tuilleries, Versailles and
St. Cloud, to the tomb of ignominy and of ex
ile. A few hundred of the defeated body-guard
of the king followed in the train of the royal
carriages, silent and dejected, the pall-hearers of
the Bourbon hearse.
Deeply as we must condemn the conduct of
this fallen monarch, who can refrain from shed
ding a tear of sympathy over the ruined fortunes
of himself and his race. We forget his politi
cal crime in the magnitude of the ruin with which
it overwhelmed him. Even the generous people
whom he hnd so deeply injured, when they wit
nessed his utter and hopeless discomfiture, man
ifested no disposition by arrest, or insult, or re
proaches, to add to the bitterness of his anguish.
'They allowed him to depart unmolested. When
this melancholy train of weeping fugitives arriv
ed at the ocean shore, they were received in two
American ships, which happened to he there,
and were oonveyed to England, there to linger
, out the remnant of their days in inglorious and
, hopeless banishment.
While these scenes were transpiring in Paris,
. the Duke of Orleans was at his residence in
Neuilly, so weary of being the sport of revolu
tions a to take no part in the conflict. He sppm.
: ed to feel that he had borne his full share in the
.perils of political parties, and could hardly with
justice be called upon to expose himself to new
dangers. But La Fayette and the other leaders
of the revolution, immediately directed their eyes
to him, as the most suitable candidate to ascend
tha throne of the fallen monarch. They felt as
sured that France was not prepared for a repub
lican form of government, and they wished to sus
tain the throne, but to surround it with free in
stitutions. Louis Philippe was a branch of the
royal family, and that would conciliate the roy
alists. He was the richest man in France, and
expended his immense resouices in great liber
ality and wisdom, and that gave him great pow
er, for, the world over, wealth is influence. I
have seen his private property estimated by a
French writer at one hundred millions of dollars.
At any rate, it is so immense that a few millions
more or less are of no account. He owns some
very valuable blocks of buildings in New York,
so that in the event of another revolution, hits
children will nol find themselves penniless in this
city. He was a known and long-tried advocate
of liberal political opinions, and that would rec
oncile the republicans.
The ministers of Charles also foresaw, that
from these very reasons he was the individual
from whom they had the most to fear. As the
retreating troops of Chaf passed the park of
Louis Philippe, they discharged a fevf vollies of
f artillery into his country seat, as the emphatic
'.expression of their consideration. On the same
iMfday, and almost at the same hour, two detach
ments arrived at his residence at Neuilly; one
,' from the victorious people of Paris, to conduct
him in triumph to the capital ; the other, a de
tachment from the royal guard to drag hjm, with
hasty violence, to imprisonment. But Louis
Philippe, long schooled in the wisdom of troub
led times, was nowhere to be found. He had
sought security in concealment. The royal
guard, however, soon abandoned the search and
consulted their own safety in precipitate flight.
It was ten o'clock at night, when Louis ventur
ed from his retreat to meet the deputaion from
Paris. He received them at the gate of his park.
By the pale and flickering torch-light, he read
the commission inviting him to the metropolis
to take the ollice of lieutenant General of Fi ance,
which meant, in reality, to ascend the. now va
cant throne of the Bourbons.
It is reported, and undoubtedly with truth,
that Louis Philippe was exceedingly reluctant to
leave the peaceful scenes of domestic enjoyment,
and again launch foith upon the turbulent ocean
of political life, where he had already encoun
tered so many storms and perils. By such a
change he hazarded everything, end could gain
nothing, lie is reported to' have Said that during
all his days he had been the victim of the tem
pests of state, in persecution, in poverty, in ex
ile, and that he thought that he ought to be per
mitted to pass the evening of his days in the re
tirement and peace of his tranquil home. His
wife also wept in unfeigned anguish, in view of
the dangers and the sorrows of regal state. She
was familiar with the melancholy history of kings
and courts, of popularity turned into hatred, of
applause succeeded by execrations; monarchs and
queens hurled from the throne, pelted by the
people, driven into exile, or bleeding headless un
der the executioner's axe. She had heard the
story of Maria Antoinette, driven from the very
chambers of the palace at Versailles, into which
her husband was now invited to enter ; fleeing,
in her night dress, even from the sanctity of her
bed, before the infuriated rabble who swarm
forth from the dens of infamy in Paris. She
had not forgotten that from these regal mansions,
into which the French nation would now intro
duce her, the idolized daughter of Austria, the
once adorned Queen of France, had been drag
ged by the most insolent and brutal violence and
plunged into a deep raid dirmal dungeon, till
her fairy form was withered and her eye blinded,
iihI l:"r once almost angelic countenance became
ghastly and hideous through the intensity of her
woes. Amelia could not forget that the streets
of Paris once resounded with the acclamations
of Mai ia, as she entered them a youthful bride,
charioted in splendor ; and that but a few years
eKij.Ku uciore sae was uraggeu uiroiign tnose
same streets, on the executioner's hurdle, blin
ded, deformed, revoking in aspect through her
miseries, exposed to the jeers and to the execra
tions of the mob, till the slide of the guillotine
tcr:."ii.,ated her vines.
She knew that the queenly diadem could be
only one of thorns ; that as one revolution p!,n-..i
them upon the throne, another might remove
them to LLtd upon the scaffold. Thus, u'.co
the people took Louis Philippe by violence, and
would make him their King, Amelia in her re
tired chambers wept bitterly over the wreck of
her domestic peace. But there seemed to be a.
moral uccess'f.y that Louis Philippe should as
cend the lb one. The rulers of the people saw,
mat prouaoiy tie alone count stay the ertajij:! .i
blood, concealing in his regal lineage and his
democratic principles both monarchists and re
publicans, lie was, therefore, told that he must
either ascend the throne or leave France. The
only choice before him was the crown or exile.
At twelve o'clock the next day, Louis Philip
pe, clambering over the barricades of the streets
of Paris, on foot, entered the Hotel de Ville.
The excited millions of Pari audits on,iuiis
thronged all iis avenues. They, however, re
ceived him iirsilciice. Louis Philippe was not
very icuioto'y a Eourbqn: The blood of that
family, so hateful to the people, was in his veins.
They feared that after all their conflict and blood
shed they might by betrayed, and merely have
one Bourbon for a King instead of another. The
scale of popular enthusiasm was in that state of
perfect equilibrium, in which' it was uncertain
whether the next moment the air would resound
with applause, or execrations.
At this critical moment, when a breath was
apparently to decide the destinies of France, the
venerable form of the people's idol, La Fayette,
appeared upon the balcony of the Hotel de Ville,
waiving in one hand the tri-colored flag of the
old republic, and with tiie other presenting Louis
Philippe as the candidate for , the new mon
archy. The endorsement of La F.iyeUe was at
once accepted. instantaneously every mind
responded to the appeal. One loud, long, hear
ty, heaven-rending shout rose from the multitude,
and Louis Philippe was the elected monarch ot
France.
HISTORIC A I,
God in History.
The ruins of kingdoms ! The relics of migh
ty empires that were! The overthrow or decay
of the master-works of man is, of all objects
that enter the mind, the most afllicting. The
hirrh-wrought perfection of beauty and art seems
born but to nerish: and decay is seen and felt
to be an, inherent law of their being. But such
is the nature of man, that even while gazing
upon the relics of unknown nations, which have
survived all history, he forgets his own perishable
nation in the spectacle of enduring great
ness. We know of no spectacle so well calculated
to teach human humiliation, and convince us of
the utter fragility of the proudest monuments of
art, as the relics which remind us of vast popu
lations that have passed from the earth, and the
emnires that have crumbled into ruins. We
read upon the ruins of ,the past the fate of the
present. We feel as if the c'lties of men were
built on foundations beficath which the earth-
ci'uake slept, and that .we abide, in the midst of
the same doom which has already swallowed so
much of, he. iecrjids of mortal magnificence.
Under iiioh emotions, we look on all human
power" as foundationless, and view the proudest
nations of the present as covered only with the
mass of their desolation.
The Assyrian empire was once alike the ler-
ror and wonder of the world, and Babylon was)
pei haps never surpassed in power and gorgeous
magnificence. But where is there even a u ih.
of Babylon now, save on the faithful pages of
IToIv Writ? The verv place ot us existence i
a matter of uncertainty and dispute. Alns! drat j
the measure of tune should be doomed to ounv
ion; and that those who first divided the year
into months, and invented the zodiac itself, should
take so sparing of immortality us to be, in the
lapse of a few centuries, confounded with natu
ral phenomena of mountain and valley.
Who can certainly show us the site of the
. ... , i . -i.i:..
tower that was "reared against heaven '!" Who
were the builders cf the pyramids that have ex
cited so much the astonishment of modem na
tions? Where is Rome, the irresistible monarch of
the east, the terror of the world ? Where are
the nroud edifices of her glory, the fame of which
has reached even to. our time iu classic viv'yj
ucss 1 ' Alas, she, too, has faded away in sun:
mi
and vices. Time has swept his unsparing
sevthe over her glories, and shorn this prince of
its towering diadems.
. "Her lonely columns stand sublime,
Flinging their shadows from on high,
Like dials which the wizard Time
Hath raised, to count his ages by."
Throughout the range of our western uilJ.i,
down in Mexico, Yucatan, Bolivia, &c., travel
lers have been able to discover the most indispu
table evidences of extinct races of men highly
skilled in learning and the arts, of whom we
have no earthly record, save the remains of their
wonderful works which time has spared for our
contemplation. On the very spot where forests
rise in unbroken grandeur, and seem to have
been exploded only by their natural inhabitants,
generation after generation has stood, has lived,
has warred, grown old and p".s:ed away: ard
not only their names, but their nation, their lan
guage has perished, and utter oblivion has cl -55.1
over their once populous abodes. Who
shall unravel to us the magnificent rains of Mex
ico, Yiie.nt", T.d Bolivia, over which hangs the
sublimit mystery, and which seem to haw
been antiquities in the day'of Pharaoh? Who
were the builders of those gorgeous temples,
obelisks, and palaces, now the yiii.s of a power
ful and highly cultivated people, whose national
existence was probably before th;t of Thebes
or Koine, Cartilage or Athens? Alas! there
is none to tell the talc; all is conjecture, and our
best information concerning them is derived only
from uncertain analogy.
How forcibly do these wonderful revolutions,
which ovuituni the master-works of man, and
uttprly diuB'dvp !es b'is'ed knowledge, remind
us that (ml is in. them all Wherever the eye,
is turned, to whatever nn.irler r,f flip worM ttin
attention is i irected, tnere lie il.e ' nvismi M
.,-..1 ... 1 1 i .! ,;.!,!
molt; n,vtt:i till, liloie nu autAi, umi nin. m;iij
skilled nations than ourselves, the almost obliter
ated records of the mighty past. How seem
ingly well-founded was the delusion, and indeed
bow current even now, that the discovery of
Columbus first opened the way for a cultivated
people in the "new world." And yet how great
reason is there tor the conclusion, that while the!
country of Ferdinand and Isabella was yet ,i
stranger to the cultivated arts, America teemed
with power and grandeur; with cities and tem
ples, pyramids and mounds, in comparison with
which tie luiildincrs of Spain bear not the
s!;.)lilpl rrBPtv,li!
uiiee
and before which the
: rel
i -a u-
... .H .. .. ..
ir of the old
i!d are
shorn of their
dour !
All these great relics of still greater nations,
should thev not teach us a lesson that fro:
is in history which man cannot pnietnip? If
the historian tells us trulv that a hundred thous
and men, relieved every three months, were thir-'
ty years in erecting a single Egyptian pyramid,
what conclusion may we. not reasonably form of
the antiquities of our own continent, which is
almost by way of derision, one would suppose
styled the "new world! IAtvrnry Emporium.
SCIENTIFIC.
A fU.a,. ..!.-.- Iho T.i; T?n:i!mr. Tero.
JY V-'liupU'l u.Mmi ilium i.iio
'The following account of the mode iu which
the very useful anil incrcas.iigly important arti
cle of commerce, named caoutchouc, is obtained,
will we doubt not, prove interesting to our read
ers. We are indebted for the statement to the
Brazilian correspondent of an American pa
per. " J he eaotitchouc tree grows in genej.1. t
the height of forty or fifty feet without branches
then branching, runs up fifteen feet higher.
The leaf is about six inoiius long, (hit), and sha
ped like that of a peach tree. The trees show
their working, By the number of knots, or bunch
es, made by tapping; and a singular fact is, that,
like a cow, when most tapped,, they give most
milk or sap.
As the time of operating ip early day, before
sunrise we were ready. The blacks are first
sent through the forest, armed with a quantity of
soft clay, and a small pick-axe. ,0n coming to
one of the trees, a portion of soft clay is formed
into a cud and stuck to the trunk. The black
then striking his pick over the cup, the sap
oozes out slowly, a tree giving daily about a
gill. The tappci continues in this way, tapping
perhaps hlty trees, and with a jar, passing over j
the same ground, empties his cups. So by stv
en o'clock the blacks come iu with their jars
ready for working. The sap at this stage ie
sembles milk iu appearance, and somewhat in
taste. It is also frequently diank with perfect
safety. If left standing now, it will curdle like
milk, disengaging a watery substance like whey.
Shoemakers now arrange themselves to form
the gum. Seated in the shade, with a large pan
of milk on one side, and on the other n flagon,
in which is burned a nut peculiar to this coun
try, emitting a dense smoke, the operator having
his last, or form, held by a long stick or handle,
previously besmeared with soft clay, (iu order
to slip olf the shoe when finished,) holds it ovi r
the nan. and n.mrintr on the milk until it is co
ered, sets the coating in the smoke, then giving' ,
it a second coat, repeats the smoking; andstf'
on. ilii "fi third and fourth, until tiie shoe is of
.no .'cqmreu thickness, averaging lrom six to
twelve coats. When finished, .the shoes on the
firms are placed iu the sun the remainder of the
day to drip. Next day, if required, they may
be figured, being so soft that any impression will
ne mueiimy receiver!. The natives are very
dexterous in this wrk. With a quill and sharp
pointed stick they will produce finely-lined leaves
and flowers, such as you may have seen on the
shoes, ii an incredible short space of time.
Alter f(4n lining on the forms two or three days,
tha shoi
i are cut open on the top, allowing the
p out. They are then tied together
last to s
arJ flu1
g on poles ready for the market. There,
pCUulS
mid Jews trade for them with the coun
try pcofle ; and in lots of a thousand or more;
they arjagain sold to the merchants, who have I
bin faffed with straw, and packed in boxes to
in which state they are received in
(toll States. In the same manner, any
tfsf -to miiuiiiVctuied. Tims toys 'are
srj
I fit
mile over clay forms. After drying, the clay
is woken and extracted. Bottles, in the
same way. According as the gum grows older,
it becomes darker in color and more totigh.
The number of caoutchouc trees in the province
is countless. In some parts whole, forests of
them exists in Mexico and the East Indies, there
appears to be no importation into the 'United
States from these places. The reason I suppose
must be the want of that prolificnuss found in
them here. The caoutchouc tree may be work
ed all the year, hut generally in the wet seasons
they have rest, owing to the flooded state of the
woods, and the milk being watery, requires more
to manufacture the same article than iu the dry
season."
Pa renW i)ep arhn cut.
For i'te Grem Mountain Vermin.
" Jan, 1st, A Word lo .Fathers.
,'vVlrit provision are you making for the mental
cultivation of your wife and children ? You
lahor hard (many of you nt least) to provide
fud, and clothing, and fuel, to make your fam
ilj s comfortable. But is this all immortal and
mcountabk beings need ? Does not the mind
ned food ? Good reading is chpnn, and abun
dint at the present day; and I suppose it is as
much your duty to provide a suitable supply
fqr your families, as it is to furnish them with
biead. Certainly no family should think of
living w ithout a good Newspaper. Toor families
iu particular, as it is a matter of economy as
we l as luxury. It is very necessary that chil
dren in poor families , should be prudent and in
dustrious. Then by dl means render them
intfliiorent.' Perhaps there is no way that you
jeso much for a small sum, as by hiving it
or a' good weekly Newspaper'. You can!
y m;
lW
have a large, neatly printed, well filled, sheet
every week for a year, for the small sum of one
dollar and fifty cents, Every dollar laid out for
reading may be multiplied by the number of
readers in the family. The father may avail him
self of the whole contents of the paper, and yet
leave it undiminished for the son, and so on, so
-.hat in a family of ten readers you actually get
the worth of fftetn dollars for the one dollar
and fifty cents you pay lor the paper.
But while I write, there is one thought which
is very unpleasant. How shall I get this subject
before the mind of those fathers who take no
paper Ah! they know not what they lose by
this neglect. There may be much going on
that is interesting; the papers may teem with in
teresting news and valuable inlornntion, but
itliey know it not; their neighbors are feasting,
i but they are famishing. Their neighbor's boys
are getting useful knowledge, which will render
them useful and happy when they come to be
men; but their boys are growing up in ignorance,
which will render them contemptible in their
own eyes and the eyes of all around thetn. Their
neighbor's daughters are receiving an education
which will make them the pride of the circle in
which they move; but theirs, with thsir ignorant
fathers and brothers, will be fit companions only
of the scum of society. Oh I piiy the child who
"poorly supplied with reading; and I pity the
ather who is so regardless of the responsibilities
that rest upon him.
A word to mothers. Eighteen hundred and
forty-five is gone .gwifand will? it all our op
portunities for doing good to our children and
others. Do we feel satisfied with what we ac
complished for the improvement of jur children
last year? I presume many of us may say, in
ih, we did but little. Well then, let us com-
mence anew in:? iew icar anu see wnat we
can do in 18-1(5, should our lives be spared.
Rveiy mother needs counsel. Next to the Bi
ble is the Mother's- Magazine. It contains 32
pages each month, of excellent reiding, with a
bealiftljil steel engraving once a quarter; making,
at thcjend of the year, a valuable volume of 3S5
pages. AVe must labor more and pray more for
the conversion of our children,' or they will in all
probability take the downwind road and finally
be lust. P.P.S.
missionary Department.
For th' Grctw Mountain Freeman.
Letter from Miss PMdcliu Colmrii.
. .J3loomhi:i,d, Mass. Dec. 15, 1 845.
Ill 'Vl'
l- IX -it AIM
if I runtls of the Oppressed.-
With
(deavor to answer some of your
lliqS
frofrt ")
the eve ;
Prf.
li if-gU to
ne-'"
se
- having sufficiently recovered
kness, and a painful disease of
cither my eyes or my head, to
,le for critics. I shall write as a
ud, trusting you will make every
Vance. I dislike to speak of ray
ing, but your inquiries will justify
: at brief sketch of my leaving homo
oirie, find of tny.residence among the fu
J.100 imeriraw Oppression.
r'- f nnd a half bcforeT went to Canada,
t: to. the border of the grave, and nt
tl wa
tlnp
ten my mind seemed almost detach
ice
th, it was drawn away from heaven,
'to think of this class of our fellow
o' I knew merely nothing of them,
i )
supposed from the very nature of things, they
must bo ignorant, poor, and needy and felt, that
altho' they had broken the direful chain of slave
ry, they must need instruction. The inquiry
consequently was, "Does any one care for them,
or look after them ? Is it not possible that I,
with my feeble abilities can do them good?" At
first I felt a reluctance to live again in the world,
as all for a long time had been given up, and
never through a protracted sickness, had I ad
dressed a petition to the throng of Divine Grace
for life or health.
Reflecting on their situation, and the sustain
ing Grace of God and his goodness to me during
my sickness, I thought I should not be afraid to
truft God in any situation whatever, nor fear
but that his Grace would be sufficient, and there
fore was led to say, "If there be a spot in the
world where the people can be so ignorant that
I can do them good, restore rne to health an
direct my steps thither ; if not let me die liv
ing or dying I am thine. ,1 felt, nn entire tvjil-
lingness .to live and suffer all my Heavenly Fhth
er's will, and tho' my sickness was protratced, I
believed that it was to prepare inc for all that
awaited mc in this present life ; and that it was
for this very purpose, even to go to Canada, that
he was raising me up. He had taught mo bj
sweet experience that His Grace w as sufficient
for every trying emergency. After having writ
ten to Rev. Hiram Wilson, Missionary in the
Province, and receiving an incouraging answer,
I laid the matter before my friends, but they felt
that they could not give their consent. The
cause was an unpopular one, nn! tr way was
unpopular too. However 1 felt that I must go
that the Grace of God was sufficient, even un
der such trying circumstances and that the
promise was mine "1 will ncict leave thee, nor
forsake tliee."
Thus I started a lone female, sent out by
no society to be sustained by none against
public opinion and the wishes cf idl my friends.
But the Lord was with me, and His Grace sus
tained mc, even till this present time, and to
Him be all the praise. Arrived at Dawn about
f.iir mouths be ft re the British American Insti
tute went into operation, over which Rev. Hiram
Wilson presided, and engaged in teaching the
youth of the neighborhood.
Sometime in Dec. that school was opened,
and though it was against my wishes, I engaged
in it and lemaincd more than a year, giving my
entire services and all I received from my friends.
However I did not feel satisfied that it was the
place the Lord would have me occupy for several
reasons which I will briefly give.
1st. I was never satisfied that the plan adop
ted there, was the best way of doing the greatest
amount of good with the lest means. 21 y. I
went with the expectation of going into some
poor and destitute neighborhood, and doing them
" jhc good, I could, without the wor'd knowing
wl
;re I was, except the tittle, work
aroe.no in,
which had. been aroused by the course I was pur
suing. I knew I had not abilities competent for
the performance of great things, but the Lord
had made me willing, and prepared mc to .ct in
a small sphere, even such a plan as those of
greater mental powers, would overlook had
made me willing to suffer his will as well as do
it.
" Lord, keep me little and unknown,
Ltn'd ana prized by thco aloue"
was the desire of my heart, therefore I did not
wish so public a station as that, and thought 1
nii;:i: ;.e eua,.tiv' usmui s a teaciier iu a private
ncighbui hood, and ha
benefiting them. In si
t: various oliier ways ol
ort, I desired ayl sought
a place which else would be wholly neglected.
Enough might be found to engage in that school,
(especially after the tirst year or two of trials
were past) if pnid, nnd as the public sustained
it, they expected the teachers were paid, of
course. To be continued. .
Editor's liepai'tmeiat.
THE WAY IT IS DOSE.
The Albany Patriot in noticing the improved
manner iu which the Pittsburgh Spirit of Liber
ty has been conducted for several . months past,
asks "What has come over it of late ? It is
greatly improved. There is pith and pathos,
energy and ability in it now-a-ch'iys that former
ly it had not : yet it is under the same conduc
tor that it has been for some time past. Has the
editor tapped a new vein of ore, a deeper and
richer streak in his soul, that he did not know
he was lord of sonic time since ? Or have the
friends of freedom made his bread and cheese
condition more favorable ? Mercy! That wakes
up genius the quickest. Let an editor once find
his readers paying him well for his toil, and he
would hesitate at nothing that is manly to please
them. How much subscribers lose by being
stingy and forgetful. Keep your editors well, if
you want tiiem fearless, Ik, Id, true-hearted. Do
you know how the soul sinks, becomes wing
weary, turns from an eagle into a mud-duck,'
when the body is fed on air, and the editor's coat
has holes in the elbows? Something has chan
ged the Spirit of Liberty." To this the editor
of the' Spirit replies : "Friend Jackson, you must
be a wizard you have the secret exactly of our
waking up. Our subscription list is increasing
steadily we feel that there are true hearts sym
pathizing with us that we are not laboring m
vain, "casting pearls before swine" and that
will make a pretty good editor out of the dullest
block of humanity.
That tells the whole story. We leave our rea
ders to draw their own inferences, and to act as
their own good sense may dictate.
We give, as an appropriate conclusion to this
article, another extract from the Spirit, which
occurs iu another connection, though upon the
same general subject. We think it instructive.
Christian Freeman.
"Our friends must tint censure us harshly, if
they wish us to do good service for them. We
cannot please every body, but it is consoling to
know that we have given satisfaction in the main,
as our rapidly increasing list affords the surest
proof. We feel encouraged, ami intend to de
serve support. Meanwhile, we will, after the
; manner of Dr. Green, give a little bit of our ex-
Iiperience, as a hint to fault-finders.
We remember, long time gone by, when'a lit
tle school boy the master, a famous New Eng
land pedagogue, who has migrated Southwest
ward to exercise his passion for whipping school
bovs and "niggers," undertake to lick us into
the classics. He whipped and scolded, scolded
and whipped, for two or three years, and we
grew duller and duller. At last he seemed to
have discovered his error ; he patted us on the
head, told us to learn as much as we corild,
promise to punish no more, and returned all our
marbles, knives, balls, and other play-things,
which, one by one had been taken away mid
locked in his strong desk. Then we roused up
school became a pleasant place, books a treas
ure, and we learned; but ask our old school-mates
how they wondered at the transformation of the
spiritless, idle blockhead into an ambitious, ever
thirsty boek-worin. Would our readers impart
such a qnrii to us now let them cease fault
rinding, keep us from pinching poverty, by prompt
advance payments, encourage us,- by adding sub.
scribers constantly to our list, and they may trust
us fir the rest."
TUB F R E ii MAN-
For th'; Green MoimtHin rWtnufi.
Messrs. Eijitors. The object of this is to review
a few sentiments and expressions of your worthy cor
respondent, Kiah Uailey, in the Freeman of Dec. 11.
My apology, if any bo needed, may be found in the ap
pended note, requesting special publicity and discus
sion. ,
In a previous number he had attempted to prove,
from the example of Israel, retaining the goods they
had borrowed of the Egyptians, by divine direction,
that any slave, fleeing fiom his oppressor, would be
justified in taking from him pay fur his past sendees;
and that on the ground that all the commands of God
are founded in equity. To this I will just say, in
passing, If so, by parity of reasoning from the commis
sioned conquest of Canaan by Israel, we may justify
wars of aggression, conquest and extermination. But
an attempt to establish an abstract principle from u
cotiTtto case, is hazardous in the extreme, and may
never be done until we can enter fully into all the cir
cumstances that come in to make up the case. Be
side, God has an underived right to all creatures and
things, and may set up one and pull down another by
such means as he sees fit; yet the example would not
necessarily justify similar acts in his creatures. But
I took tho pen to reply to his argument that " the
law of natural justice leads to the same result." Here
I shall readily acknowledge the correctness of his po
sition, "The laborer is worthy of his reward;" and as
readily admit, also, that the slave is under no moral ob
ligation to respect that law, which, instead of affording
protection to his person, and his dearest interests,
makes them the prey of others. However just and
however obligatory tho laws of n slave State may be,
in their operations between the free denizens of the
State, on that portion of the eomtmmity who have sev
er bdiicikmed them by their consent, nnd for wiow
benefit or security they make no provision; but who, on
the contrary, are themselves made 9 prey to other en-n'-tments;
they have, in equity, no more binding moral
force than tho confederacy" of a lawless banditti or
ganj of robbers has on their victims.
' And though much ingenious and learned comment
has been expended on the passage, "The powers that
be are ordained of God," to make it inculcate subordi
nation to irresponsible despotic power, lean but regard
the whole a libel on the Bible. The grand principle
that lies at the foundation of all civil government, re
cognized, alike, by seripi'Mre and moral sense, is this;
Kiovernments derive their just power from the consent
of the governed."
Among tho great v.iriety of governments the consent
nay be more or less distinct, and, consequently, the
...... . 1 . t. . r
moral oungation lie more or less immediate, mil lur.
I?, says, "The slave, so long as he submits to the
power of his oppressor, should do faithfully the sendee
assigned him; bv.t when he has a reasonable prospect
of regaining his liberty, and resolves to be free, his
relations to his oppressor change at once, and lie may
leave his service without his consent." Here the re
lation of the master to the slave is justly expressed by
the term "oppressor." And I confess I can see no ob
ligation to faithful service, on the part of the slave,
growing out of this relation. Nor can I see how ti
leasonalde prospect of escape, and a resolve to make
the trial, should change the moral relation subsisting
between them. . Mr. B. inquires, after repeating the
justice of the skive's claim, "Why may ho not, in such
case claim and take his just due, kept from him by his
oppressor?" I answer, because the identical property
is not his own! He has no right to pass judgment ad
verse to another and in his own favor. Certainly none
to enter tho possession of his antagonist to execute
such judgment. Again: ho says, "The man who
strikes for liberty is, by that very act, thrown back into
a state of nature, behind all constitutions and human
enactments. Why so? Are not his natural and inhe
rent rights, first and last, the same? Again, he says,
"Ho is a nation by himself; and if any nation may take
the property of an enemy who has injured them, so
may he." Here I admit tho process of reasoning, but
dispute the premises. Pursuing, however, the same
course, he adds, "Evry man, while in a state of na
turOj may retaliate on-any one who 1ms taken nway his
property or killed his relative." "The law of retalia
tion is founded in equity and repeatedly sanctioned by
divine authority!" "The rule' is a good rule," Sc. .
Here we meet what I regard his fundamental error.
And however popular tho sentiment, aa applied tq na
tions may have been among the great; and however
distinctly asserted in the codes of international law, I
deny the right of any man, or of any set of men, in a
corporate capacity, to seize upon the ptJxeession of an1
adverse party, or to inflict punishmer.t on another, 'at
discretion, for abuses received. A pretense to such
a right must necessarily clash with the rights ef others.
"May retaliate on any one who takes away his proper
ty or kills his relative!" "The rule a rood riile? Let
us once test it by another good role. "By their fruits
ye shall know them. The long array of jrar which ,
dyes the history of our world with Wood', with all iUj.. ;
multiform horrors and devastation, is but the legitimate
fruit of this sentiment. It lies at tfie foundation of that s
deliberate mania, where " rage for plunder makes a , '
god;" "and bloodshed can wash out every other stain!" ," '
Do men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles? . .
Tho law of retaliation founded in equity and repeat
edly sanctirined by divine authority:" What did Christ
say on this snbjtvt? Matt. 3: 4J). "Ye have heart! that
it hath been said, tiiau eh'alt love thy neighbor and hate
thine enemy. But I say unto you, love your enemies;
do good to thcm tliat bate you. What did Paul writo; A
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