The national era. [volume], September 26, 1850, Image 1

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THE NATIONAL Eli I. "'-r
(J. BAILEY, EDITOR ANDPROPRIETOR; JOHN O. W HITT IER..C 0 R RES PON DI N ? EDITOR. ^ +M
vol, IV.-NO. 39. WASHINGTON. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 2(>~1850 \
WHOLE NO I()f>
Tb, > it tonal Krm l? Published Weekly, an Seventh
WrHl, opposite ttdd Fellow*' Hall.
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BUI5LL 4c RLANCHARU, PRINTERS,
Sixth ?traet, a few do?ra eonth of Pennsylvania avenna.
I UK NATIONAL ERA.
W XSIIINOTON, SEPTEMBER 2.1, 1810.
X ...A. .fattoaai at*.
wnwmw oF Afi iauifiE. I
* ' nt. a. ' ? .
H IRKV GORDON.
BY MARTHA RI'RSti.L.
" TLere *u baugbtiues* in nil h? did,
A i Ht ilf? 'ha' kiwkdl iwl to b? eiiid."
Nonsense, Harry!"
I tell you I never was more serious iu my life,
Amy. As for staying here any longer, to be made
a si ire of?nt-Ter to go, or do, or have anything
like other boys, is what I will not do. That
pint is settled. 1 am old enough to act for myself
in some things, 1 fancy."
' Certainly, cousin Harry," replied Amy Averil
arching her dark eyebrows, und pursing up her
lull, red lips with a laughable assumption of gravity
Let me see," she went on, as she commenced
couuting upou her fingers, "you are just seventeen
years ten months aid seven days old ; almost
n Methusaleh in years, and quite one in wisdom,
it must be admitted. I agree with you ' itifirtly
? ~~??W\n.?vuitirely,' a# 0Ur Buri iijet says "
" Think as you will, Amy, you will be forced
to believe me one of these day a Now, if you can
be serious five minutes together, listen to me. My
father's temper grows worse and worse. Only this
morning he broke out upon me in a terrible passion
because he happened to hear that 1 had been
into the dancing school once or twice. He has
taken from me my own colt, Sorrel, and 1 am not to
go out a single evening without first going to him,
and saying, 1 pleair, sirlike a very child. If I disobey
measures are to be taken to compel me to
obedience. Compel. To he told that in the presence
of all the household. My very blood boils
every time I think of it. Compel. Let him attempt
it if he dare!"
The dimples fled from Amy A veril's cheek, and
she trembled with terror as she saw the handsome
features of her cousin quiver and grow almost
livid with passion and mortification as he recalled
some ouarrel between him ond his stern father
1 7
which scenes, she knew, were far too frequent.
"And you, Harry ? Did you say nothing to
exasperate him? Did you speak to him as a
child should speak ?" she eagerly asked. " I know
he is violent and arbitrary?still he is your father,
and" '
"Let him show himself as such, then,before he
exacts obedience from me," interrupted Harry
Gordon, impatiently. "The duty is not all on one
side, 1 fancy. Violent! You know nothing about
him, Amy. He is the crossest, most obstinate,
unreasonable old man in existence."
nuHii: nusn ! iou rorgei yourseir, uarry.
Vou, too, are unreasonable."
i will not hush. 1 know, and you know, that
what 1 say Is the truth I am neither uureanOBable
nor obstinate if they would let me alone. It
is my father's stern, unbending, exacting temper
that makes me so. If I can't set down night after
night, in the chimney corner, and pore over a
newspaper or the almanac like John and Ned, am
I to blame ? I was horn different, as I should
think he might know by this time. You knowAmy,
that even as a school-boy I always chose
the wildest and least trodden paths. I lore adventure,
novelty, anything that sets the blood in
motion and gives one the feeling of life. Like
my Sorrel, I can not and trill not walk in one
straight furrow, marked out for me by my father.
This constant pressure on the bit maddens me.
Kvery year it grows worse and worse, and I'll
bear it no longer."
" Hut where will you go ? What will you do,
Ilarry ?"
" Go to sea?work, fight, beg?do anything,
r it her than stay here."
1 Hut your mother, Harry?"
Amy Averil had touched the right chord. The
hoy s lips quivered?the flush on his cheek faded,
and the angry (T nth in his dark eye gave place to
an expression soft and tender aa her own.
" My mother ! my mother!" he said, dwelling
upon the word as if he feared to trust his voice
Aye. that is the worst of it. Amy. You do not
know half her goodness. I wish they were all
like her; how different everything would be.
These i)Uam ls are killing her. I see her shrink
and grow pale every time my father looks sternly
a' me. | believe, after the first shock is over, it
will he better for her when I am gone. When
she hears that I am making my way in the world,
as 1 certainly shall, she will feel lese anxious about
me than if I hoj VMnnins/1 Knwn /% thn? ai%* a
'log1* life. Then when I come home, Amy "
" Hut you may never come home, Harry. There
are such thing* in this world as failure, disappointment,
and death/'
A thoughtful shade passed over the boy's face
:n he thought of the fate suggested by his cous- |
iu's words, but it quickly passed away, and in his
usual quick, gay tone, he replied, " 1 know there
re. Amy. but I don't take them into my reckoning
Nothing venture, nothing have,' as our old
ropy u*.>d to run. Don't look so sad, Amy. Who
knows what the fature will bring I shall be a
great man yet, a Senator or member of Congress, of
whom mother and you will be proud enough; or.
what is better, a minister to England, where I
shall t ike you with me, and introduoe you to
Uueen Victoria, or. maybe, I shall go to Russia
or China, 1 can't exactly tell which place, but at
any rate I shall take you and mother, and you will
not wear such stuff as this, then," he continued,
gdly taking hold of the light mualin drees, " but
real India and silks that will turn the heads of
half the women in Ik. SV? I .v.li I
great mtu jet, yoa little unbeliever."
Aye, Harry Gordon, euch has been the dream
of thousands who have gone forth from the
threshold of home with aspirations that gvaaped
it the stars, and hopes aa bright as their light;
but that light went out in darkness, and their
n ime* are no more remembered npon earth ; God
grant they oiay be registered in Heaven !
Very earnest and low were Amy Averil's tones
* bile she strove to soothe the angry mood and
soften the obstinate determination of her way*
?rd cousin, as they stood assid the lengthening
shadows, on the old stone bridge midwsy between
heir dwellings, and her sunny face was clouded
with apprehension aa she turned toward home,
for there was something in the boy's eye and tone
hat convinced her that the hour of separation
must sooner or later come.
t HAPTKK II.
a<H ?ne child a warning to another, hut ehlde Its
"(Muter e|>srt;
"f sair^uawlt aad wounded pride rankle like poieone in
the Mil."
' entle n-ader, have you never heard ua New
I'ttgUndera characterised as a restless, nomadic
"ace, always moving about the oountry, and putting
up shingle palaces in which we remain
scarcely long enough for our children to gather
a handful of the flowers which they hare planted,
before we are off again on some new speculation 7
Doubtless there are many people in the world,
who. having a very salutary fear of the fate of
Lot's wife before their eyes, go hurrying through
life without ever pausing to look around, much
less behind them, yet we are not aware that they
are the exclusive product of New England. At
least it is not true of our village, wheie the people
have a saving reverence for the wisdom of
their fathers, walking diligently in their footsteps,
and where family after family, generation
after generation, vegetate on the same place, like
the grass ou their own fields, until they are gathered
hence into the garner of Death. However
favorable the moral Atmosphere of such a place
may be to integrity of character, it does little towards
softening tj?e pride or prejudice which,
like ugly execrescenoes, sometimes disfigure the
ht vt, bui^b thr contrary has a tende ncy, to petrify
them So it seems to have been with Hurry
a.* i,.* was strictl.y-just and honest j
A Mt --?-e, - -*
deemed his duty, asoourge and a terror to all. The
idle and vicious, and probably most of those whom
circumstances had not brought into very cloee
relationshiD with him, would have concurred
in Che often-expressed opinion of one of hie neighbors,
that f: Kaq Gordon was a righteous man "
His intellect and will were stronger than his
heart, or, rather, the former were fully developed,
while the latter still slept. If he was unswerving
in the performance of hie duties as a magistrate
and neighbor, he was equally no in his relations
as a father; and tie justice uutempered by
love awes even while it excites respect, so Esq
Gordon was feared rather than loved by the inmates
of his own household His notions of family
government were strictly patriarchal, and he
diligently strove to train his large family of children
in the "way they should go," that is, in the
way ht deemed right, without any regard to their
individual tastes or dispositions Fortunately for
him and his system, his children, with the exception
of Harry, the youngest, resembled each other
in mind and disposition as nearly as kernelsfrom
the same ear of wheat Most of them were married
and planted roilnd him with their families.
1.Trrmi the same V-V.-- ?- <*
him for counsel and protection. But Harry was a
wild off-shoot, lacking almost all of the indigenous
qualities of the others, very beautiful in his rapid
growth, but "running to riot," as the Esq
termed it, in such a variety oT^tysas completely
to defy all his long-established notions of training.
Hud he studied more intently the human heart,
had he as large faith in the power of love and
gentleness to win souls as he had in the strength
of will to force them, he would have seen thai
the exuberant animal spirits, the fiery, impetuous
impulses of the hoy needed some wider escapevalve
than the quiet, monotonous routine that had
met the wants of his other children; that, if he
sought abroad for the amusement which he could
not find at home, it was no proof of "original depravity"
on the part of the hoy, hut rather an
evidence of failure on his part to satisfy the wants
of his nature.
Be this ah it may, it cannot be denied that
Harry embraced every opportunity to escape from
the petrified regularity of his father's house, and.
as every deviation from the established rule was
met with indiscriminating rebuke, a spirit of opposition
was roused in the boy, that led him not
unfrequently to defend himself, but to throw contempt
upon his father's system of government?
a piece of audacity that only confirmed the old
gentleman's faith in the necessity of stringent
measures, and filled the hearts of his gentle
mother and brothers and sisters with astonishment
and alarm.
A few weeks previous to the commencement of
our story, a dancing school had been opened in
the next village, and among the pupils were several
of the young people of our place. Harry was
very anxious to attend, but Esq. Gordon neither
patronized nor listened with patience to any such
scheme of " folly and wickedness," and met his
son's request, not only with a point blank refusal,
hut a command not to set his foot within the ballroom.
on p?in of his di?pt???",rot
The boy disobeyed, and the knowledge of his
disobedience having come to his father's ears, had
caused the violent scene of which he had spoken
to Amy Averil. His father had made violent and
galling threats in the presence of the assemble!
household, and the son had replied in the same
tone and temper
It was a sad affair, for when did anger and reproach
give birth to aught hut sorrow ? It cast a
dark shadow over the whole house, and there were
fewer broad jokes and far less boisterous laughter
in the harvest field that day than usual, for the
quiet brothers trembled at the thought of Harry's
temerity, and the hired people loved the highspirited
boy too well to be indifferent to his troubles.
We will not speak of the snguish of his
gentle, delicate mother, and how between her reverence
for her husband and her love for her child
she tried to exoulpate them both from blame;
neither will we describe farther the tempest of
passion that shook Harry Gordon's soul, when he
thought of his fither's violent language; we win
only say, that some hours before daybreak on the
morning of the day after his interview wi:h his
cousin, while yet the orbed moon was high in the
west, he crossed his father's threshold for the last
time. Were there no old memories lingering
about that doorway, to call him back, and soften
his proud heart ?
Ah. yes ! God's angels never leave us ; and, as
he withdrew bis hand from the latch, the childish
form of his little sister rose before him. pale and
shadowy, yet so real did sheseem, so wistful was the
expression in her violet-hued eyes, that ho almost
forgot (hat she had lain eight long years beneath
the shadow of the village church in the silent
graveyard. Then came days of his childhood,
crowding around, full of laughter and tears, and
pleading for a place and s memory in that heart,
so lately all their own. aud the half-uttered chirp
of the dreaming robin in the gripe-vine over the
porch, and the low muttered dream of the old
house-dog in the back yard, came to his heart
with an eloquence at once so strange and powerful,
that it almost overawed his proud spirit
Brushing a tear from his eye, he caught up a
small plaid silk scarf of his mother's, which had
been left upon a seat in the porch, and thrusting
it into his bosom, sprang across the yard and down
the street with the speed of the wind. Perchance
he thought to outrun old memories, hut they were
ever by his side?thotfe old faces and old voices?
and clearer and more pleadingly than sll the rest
seemed to come the swept voice of Amy Averil,
calling him to return. He knew it was an illusion?that
Amy Averil lay sleeping in her lovekfp
nurn father's roof: vet BO real
did it Mem, that once he pau?ed ?md looked hack
T here was nothing hut the silent road, paved with
the golden moonlight, and the dark, giant-like
shadows of the farm-house and trees; nothing
animate, unless we exoept the majestic old elms
by the gateway, under which he h id played so
many hours as child and hoy which seemed to
stretch forth their lony. pendulous branches, and
beckon him back. But on he went, until he
reached the old stone bridge in the Hollow, when
his feet seemed rooted to the broad stone*, a* if
by some spell of enchantment, while the angel of
memory struggled mightily with anger an l pride
How beautifully the dark green alders contrasted
with the old willows, that leaned, like
sleepy sentinels, over the drowsy brook, their silvery
leaves gleaming in the moonlight, which,
fflanoin* off to the water below, gleamed and
quivered and coquetted with the clear waves, here
dancing over the amber-hued pebble*, there sleeping
quietly on aome deep, atill pool, like a child
on ita mother's breast.
Ah. that brook coarse; every bend and curve
to it* source amid the hills wa* as well known to
Elarry Gordon as the features of his own mother's
face Many a half holyday had he spent in
tracing ita windings with his fishing takle in hi*
hand, and well did he know each deep, cool spot
where the shy trout balance themselves beneath
the shelving banks and the sun-flecked shallows
where silly roach turn up their gleaming sides.
Between the bridge where he stood and Amy
Averil's home, which looked out from a green
lane about a quarter mile distant, lay a green
orchard, acroas which stretched a narrow footpath
leading up to Amy's door. Turning away from
the bridge with a full heart, he leaped the fenoe,
and took his way along that well-known path
Everywhere was silence. A feeling akin to awe
orept over him as he gazed around, for even those
old apple trees teemed to wear an aspect of reproach;
old friends were they, whoee names were
familiar household words. How many hours he
had sat beneath their shade with Amy and that
fair-haired little sister, whose memory would not
leave him. gathering the golden fruit and laughing
at thetr credulity as they sought for omens in
the shape of four-leaved clover, or tested their
schoolmates' love by plunkiagih# alternate petals
of the da*sy No wonder that those gaarled old
apple trees seemed to his excited fhaey like so
many gray-haired friends, standing in the white
moonlight with bowed heads, whispering, ' Return,
my aou, return
He did not dare to listen, but hurried on, and
his own initials cut into the smooth bark of a
plum tree near Amy Areril's door, and a rose from
her favorite bush, were the last tokens Harry
Gordon gave and took of the home of his youth.
CHAPTfcK 111.
"Close beside her, faintly moan ng, fair and young a tol lier
Torn with abot and plero*d with lanees. bleeding slow his
life away."
It'oiMier'j " AngtU of Burr,a l ulu "
The battle of Churubusco was over ; the thunder
of cannon had ceased and the currents of air,
slowly resuming their wonted motion, begin to
part and lift the dense smoke that brooded over
i he field, as if to hide it from the eye of Heaven
Now And rkoa- . * report of scattering !
shots, and here and there a pursuing party, re1
v ' I W w
field, reg^tAldfs ?< a4v> Va.^. k
their horses' feet, their facee begrimed with
smoke, and rendered fierce, almost demoniac, by
the action of all the evil passions which such
soenee are calculated to excite, and were lost in
I the gathering darkness
?* ?? ? *-- ? -?> -: J- .:I^I t. tisvAh
They bore him away to the city of the Montezumas?DOt
to her regal halls, but to a loathsome
hospital, where, with the bare brick pavement for
a oouch, ond a military coat for a pillow, he lay
amid filth and vermin, groans, shrieks, prayers,
and curses.
We shudder when wo think of that scene, as
described to us by nn eye?witness, and feel that
fearful indeed must be the perversion of that
person's mind who could look upon it and feel
aught of the pride of victory?aught but the utter
worthleesnoss of all glory, individual or national,
that is won at such a price.
Here they laid down our young Harry Gordon,
with all his ambitious dreams of greatness unrealized.
The glittering mirage of military glory
bad led hiin onward and onward until it left him
to die in that hideous place of suffering Happily
ho was unconscious of the dreadful scenes and
sights around him, for a fierce fever scorched his
brain, and coursed through his veins like burning
lava, and the rough but kind attentions of his surviving
comrades and the limited means of the
surgeon oould avail little against its power.
He took no heed of the ghastly forms of death
around him, for his mind wanderej far away
from that fearful place, to his home amid the
New England hills. Household names and
snatches of old songs were on his lips, old faces
hovered about him, and familiar voices sounded
in his ears, and more than one rough heart grew
soft, more than one eye turned aside to conceal
the gathering dampness, as with touching tenderuess
the words, " Mother ? Amy," fell again and
agnin from his parched lipe
About one week after the Americans had taken
possession of VLe city, as General W. made the
rounds of the hospital, speaking words of cheer to
such as retained their reason, and supplying their
necessities as far as he was able, from his own
scanty purse, his eye fell upon Harry Gordon.
Struck by the singular beauty that still characterized
the poor boy's face, in spite of the ravages
of disease, he lingered by his side, speaking words
of hope and cheer. For the first time for many
days, Harry was sane and calm A faint smile
hovered about his mouth as he oomprehended his
officer's kind words, hut with a slight motion of
the hand he declined his proffered aid. Poor
lioy! young us he was, he knew right well that
earthly aid was nseless As the General was
turning away, a thought seemed to strike him; he
beckoned him to pause, and with great difficulty
murmured a few words in his ear. Instantly the
General crossed the room to where the surgeon
was performing some operation, and taking the
Doctor's scissors, returned uod placed them in the
young soldiers hitniJ.
Rallying all hia strength, ami assisted by the
kind officer, the young man partly rained himself
from hie pallet, and severd two thick locks from
his mass of dark hair. With a request so broken
and inarticulate an to be inaudible to all save the
kind-hearted officer that bent oyer him, and one
poor comrade who lay clone by his side, he placed
it in the General's hand, and almost before the
latter had promised to falftl his request, he aank
back ou his pillow?a corpse
All honor be to the memory of that man who,
amid the multifarious duties of his office, failed
not to remember hia promise to the dying soldier,
and see that It whs religiously fulfilled.
Scarcely h ?1 the cannon which oelebrated their
victory ceased to echo amid our New England
hills, when a lsrge franked letter, directed to Esq
Gordon, arrived at the village poet office.
The postmaster and the wise ones about the
office were unanimous in thinking that the letter
contained news of Harry; therefore they decided
it was proper to forward it Immediately to the
Gordon farro-house, instead of allowing it to lie
there until Sunday noon, when the Esq. usually
took his paper and letters.
The news of a letter from Mesioo soon drew
the whole family, Including Amy A veril, together.
With a trembling hand tba old Eaq. broke the
seal, and, unfolding the letter took from It two
heavy locks of raven hair. For a moment they
sat gazing at them, as if apell-bound , then whiter
thau sea foam grew the mother's cheek and lips
as she caught them from bcr husband's hand, and
covered them with kisses; fsster and faster fell
the tears over Amy Averil'a cheeks, and deeper
and deeper grew the silence in that room, as the
gray-haired, anguish-stricken father rend the
General's letter, and, in a voice not lese broken
and inarticulate than his who had dictated them,
hie dead boy's last words?
" Wend them with my dying love to my mother
and Amy Averil, tell thein that in life and in
death I never forgot them?never ceased to love
them *
oo?n rrm mr ?nu n iur. ur pnru 1 u u upvu
that Wattle field, lay Saxon and Artec, fri<*nd and
foe, with the grin of defiance or the scowl of re
venge distorting their features?in many instances
will grasping their bloodstained weapons in
their stiffening hands?and here and there lay
one in strange oontrasf. with features as calm and
limbs as decently composed as if the hand of
affection had -'laid him out" beneath his fathers
roof. There was the horse, with fierce, distended
nostrils, and his proud rider half enveloped, half
entangled in the folds of the silken standard he
had died to defend, nnd all around lay drum,
trumpet, bugle, anl fife, crushed and mute, and
no voice rose from that field of carnage, save the
gToans of the wounded and dying, and the low
sobs of the Mexican women as they bent over the
dead, and sought to recognise among those mutilated.
disfigured forms, the features of their
tt^sqi^ friends,
j A mournful sight, tndeeu, was iaai iAiflcfield, .
thick sown with the heirs of eternal life, and a
startling commentary on the pride of conquest, as
many a brave soldier felt as he wandered over
the slippery field jn search of some well-tried
comrade snd friend And yet Nature felt it not;
! as the clouds of smoke cleared away, the blue arc
of the southern heaven bent as lovingly over it,
aud the quiet stars looked down upon it with the
same mild radiance as when, eighteen oenturies
before, that balmy air. now heavy with the breath
of death, bad echoed to the jubilant song of the
angels?" Peace on earth, snd good will to men."
In tbat part or me neia wnere iooi 10 iwi nun
hand to hand the victory had been moat hotly
contested, a Mexican mother bent low in search
of her dead. Slowly, with blanched cheek and
lip oompreaaed with agony, ahe pursued her
dreadful task, scanning with the same eager interest
the features of friend and foe, for, begrimed
with smoke and dust, and mutilated aa
they were, it was difficult, even for the eye of
affection, to distinguish between friend and foe
For a time her search seemed fruitless; but
suddenly her eye rested on a dark-haired youth,
and, with hands trembling with fear and hope,
she raised the head to her knee, and eagerly
scanned the features Carefully she brushed
away the thick hair from his brow, nnd with a
dash of water from the canteen by her side removed
the smoke from his face. Alas! it was the
face of a stranger. As she laid the head gently
from her knee, and turned away, the young soldier,
revived by the water upon his brow, uttered a
low moan, coupled with the word, "mother."'
It was a strange word, uttered in a "strange
and Northern tongue," unintelligible to her understanding,
but her mother-heart seemed to comprehend
it at once. Regardless of the pool of
blood by his side, she again knelt down, and raising
his head, placed a cup of water to his parched
lips. He drank eagerly, and while he strova to
--- "haaelxed her coun?-??which
he still grasped in nT* han.i, ?;.J bound it
round him to stanch the blood, which at every
movement flowed from his side. Seeing some
American soldiers approach, she left him to their
cire, and turned away to continue her paintul
tusk.
For the National kra (
SONG OF TIIK DREAMER. ! J
BY KRANCSS D. OAHt.
I wan bom a cabin maiden,
In the deep, unenltnred wild.
And grew almont to womanhood
A free and fearlea* child ; ' }
I roamed the dark ild forent,
I climbed the waving tree? a
The rodent eport, and wildent
1A an the rareet nport for me. a ,
I'nbraided locke hung ever
O'er my ehouldere brown anil hare? (
I cared not for the Illy akin, ]
Or the gloeay golden hair; i
No ruby nparkled on my lip, ?
No light danced in ray eye. j
No tone* biuthed upon my cheek I
V,'v^.mV,2 - ! ?.
v K'yn |pv loved and aaintw4 mother a
s'i J X I *\ *> ^ , t ,
She callat me oft her trouble?
Hrr reetleee dreaming child.
M y heart for loee w?? long i lie,
And a look or kludnere given,
Male it lea* with joy and gladun ,
And turu'J my earth to haaeet
Hut ?o eeldom?oh ! eo aeldom 1
t .'ame love'* eunny hour* to me I
That I learn'd to hold communion I
With each bird and tlower and ire*;
Ard when l heard the breeze* <
'Mong the branchte o'er my head, <
Or the murmuring of the rieulet t
Along it* pebbly bed, <
They aeem'd to teach my epirit <
Of hither, holier thing*, t
And to play a loftier melody t
Upon life'* eecret itring*. I
The wild, full guah of mimic
O'er the robin'e chirping brood?
The nimble-footed Mjnirrel, ,
A* it hounded through the woodMade
my light heart heat more highly
In my happinea* and glee, (
of lore uach-..,.. , -- '
" I dreamed qf all thingi J<tt "
fcach wild flower'* bright corolla '
Had a language for my ear I
And thattfrj^riTice ?Mt\y wctepereT
" 'Twae our Father placed ua h?t>." I
aiiJ i loved them?oh'. I love! them,
In their simp e beauty there? i
For they answ red (o my longing*. I
From their wild beds, eoft ami lair <
I loved the dark nprolling
Of the clouds along the sky.
And the deep-toned, awful thunder,
And the lightning ttashtag high ;
And the low and eolemn inrgmg ,
Of the wind*, o'er hill and dale,
Neem'd to my lonely rnusiig*
I.Ike an old, an oft beard tale.
1 loved the Boltening twilight,
The light and shades of tven?
I loved the jewelled drapery
That hung the vault of heaven?
For every little twinkier
Wai a peopled world to me
And fancy dress'd that little world
With glorious imagery.
And thus I wandered wildly,
Where'er my dreaming led,
Till thirteen summers' mii* had thrown
Their radiance o'er my hrad;
The neighbors looked on doubting,
The children of the school
Oft taunted me, with sneering lip,
And branded me-" a fool."
Ah ! little deeiu'd they of the thought*
My young heart hid away,
l.ike miser's jewels gloated o'er,
And oounted day by day;
Yet I was sometimes lonely,
Kor my thoughts seem'd all my own?
An.1 ! fesrnl that all my jdftsitng
Cor love and sympathy,
Would never meet an answer
In the world so void to me.
" But now a change came o'er
The spirit of my dream,"
And life became harmonious
A* the rippling of the stream?
For fortune arrowed around me
The leaves of other landa,
Veined with thought, pure and holy,
Traced by warm and loving harida
I seized th?m, and I read them,
And with grateful rapture knelt,
And poured my soul in thankfulness
Tbat 1 with others felt.
Oh ' many a time-worn volume,
Fill'd with rich and varied lore,
Into the dim old forest
With a stealthy hand ! We;
And the spirits of the mighty,
Who long since hail passed away,
Become iny friends and guardians,
Through life's eventful day;
Ami now my spirit's longings
All found an answering tone?
/ wvi? not tin unlorctl one,
/1co* no more nlonr.
JENNY UNI).
BV FRKDKIKA BKBME&.
There once was a poor and plain little girl,
dwelling in a little room in Stockholm, the capital
of Sweden. She was a poor little girl indeed
then?she was neglected, and would have been
very unhappy, deprived of the kindness aud care
no necessary to a child, If it had not been for a
peculiar gift. The little girl had n fine voice,
and in her loneliness, in trouble or in Borrow, ahe
conaoled herself by Hinging. In fact, she sung to
all ahe did ; at her work, at her pluy, running ur
renting, she always aaDg.
The woman who had her in chirge went out to
work during the day, and used to lock in the little
girl, who had nothing to enliven her solitude but
the oompany of a cat The little girl played with
her cat and sang Once she sat by the window,
and stroked her cat and sang, when a lady passed
by. She heard a voice, and looked up and saw
the little singer. She asked the child several
questions, went awsj, and e*me back several days
after, followed by an old music master, whose
name was Creliusl lie took her to the Director
of the Royal Opera at Stockholm, then a Count
Finnic, whose truly generous heart was concealed
by a rough speech and morbid temper. Crelius
introduced his little pupil to the Count, and asked
him to engage her at " eleve" for the opera. " You
ask a foolieb thing," said the Count^grutlly, look,
ing disdainfully down on the poor little girl
"What shall we do with that ngly thing? See
what feet she has? And then her face! She
will never be presentable. No, we cannot take
her! Away with her I"
The music master insisted, almost indignantly.
" Well," exclaimed he at last, "if you will not
taks her, poor as I am. I will take her myself, and
have her educated for the scene ; then, such artother
ear as she has for music is not to be found
in the whole world."
The Count relented. The little girl was at last
admitted into the school for eleves at the opera,
and with aome difficulty a simple gown of bombazine
waa procured for her. The care of her
musical education was left loan able muster, Mr.
Albert Rerge, director of the song-school of the
opera.
Some year* later, at a comedy given by the
elevea of the theatre, several persons were struck
1 ll 1?la .k 11#- ?DL uikiok a tsm Vfilinff I
'7 me npirit mm nits wmi nmv.. - ,.a/ , ?
eleve acted the part of a beggar girl in the pl?y
Lovers of genial nature were cbxrmed, pedants
almost frightened It was our poor little girl,
who had made her first Appearance, now shout
fourteen years of age, frolicksoine and full of fun
a* a child.
A few /ears still later, a joung debutante was
to sing for the first time before the public, in
Weber's Frischuts. At the rehearsal preceding i
the representation of the evening, she sang in a
manner which made the members of the orchestra
at onoe, as b/ common accord, lay down their in- '
struments to clap their hands in rapturous applause.
It was our poor, plain little girl here I
again, who now had grown up, and was to appear I
before the public in the role of Agatha. I saw
her at the evening representation. She was then
in the prime of youth?fresh, bright, and serene
ae n morning in Ma/, perfect in form?her bauds
and arms peculiar!/ graceful?and love!/ In her
whole appearanoe, through the expreaeion of her
oountenanoc, and the noble simplicity end calmness
of her manners In fact, she was charming.
We saw not an actress, hut a young girl full of
latural geniality and grace. She seemed to more,
ipeak. aud siDg. without an effort of art. All was
lature and harmony. Her song was distinguished
specially by its purity, aud the power of soul
nrhich seemed to swell her tones. Her ume*io
roice " was delightful. In the night scene where
\galhn. seeing her overcome, breathes out her
?y in rapturous song, our young singer, on turntig
from the window, at the back of the theatre,
0 the spectators again, was jiil* for joy And in
hat pale jojousness she sang with a burst of outlowing
lore and life thnt called forth not the
nirth but the tears of the auditors.
From that time, she was the declared favorite
>f the Swedish public, whose musical taste and
tnowledge are said to be surpassed nowhere, and
1 our lift??r VPur uhp onntiniiorl tn fcSwsw oflor
i time. her voice, beingoveretrained. loot somewhat
ts freshness, and the public, being satiated, no
nore crowded the house when she was singing.
.... ... .u?> uuic. not tvuivi ut ur?nrsi?Kiti|;(aDii
daying more delightful than ever in Patiania.
t' ? - . '> ' . . - /
ra was* almost deserted. It wiuTthen late in t"he
ipring. and the beautiful weather called the people
out to nature's plays She had evidently
tang for the pleasure of the aoug.
Hy that time she went to take lessons of Garcia,
n Paris, and so gave the finishing touch to her
musioal wfoeotion There she acquired that warble,
to which she is said to have been equalled by
110 singer, and which compared only to that of the
soaring and warbling lark, if the lark had a soul
Ami then the youug girl went abroad and sang
in foreign shores, and to foreign people; she
charmed Denmark, and charmed Germany, and
[ harmed England. She was caressed and courted
everywhere, even to adulation. At the courts of
:>f the king?, at the house of the great and noble,
die whs fe.sted as one of the grandees of nature
ind art. She was covered with laurels and jewds.
Hut friends wrote of ber. " In the midst of
ht t-e spleudors, she only thiuksoflier Sweden, and
learns for her friends and her j>eople."
One dusty October night, crowds of people
the most part, by their dress, seeming to beloDg
o the upjer classes of society) thronged on the
llaltic harbor at Stockholm. All looked towards
licji^u Therwwata rumor of exoect^pcj* and
pleasure. Hours passed away, and the crowds
still gathered and waited, and looked out eagerly
towards the sea. At length a brilliant rocket
*rose joyfully, far out on the entrance of the barbor,
and was greeted with a general buzz on
shore, "There she comes! there she is!" A
large steamer now came thundering on, making
its triumphant way through the flocks of ships
and bout." lying in the harbor, towards the shore
if the "Skeppsbro." Flashing rockets marked
its way in the dark as it advanced. The crowds
on the shore pressed forward as if to meet it
Now the leviathan of the waters was heard thundering
nearer, now it relented, now again pushed
on, foaming ami splashing, now it lay still. And
there, on the front of the deck, was seen by the
light of the lamps and rockets a pale, graceful
young woman, with eyes brilliant with tears, and
lips radiant with smiles, waving her handkerchief
to her friends and countrymen on the shore.
It was she again?our poor, plain, neglected
little girl of former days?who came back in triumph
to her fatherland. But no more poor, no
more plain, no more neglected. She had become
celebrated; she ha 1 in her slender person the
power to charm and inspire multitudes.
Some days later, we read in the paper ofStockholm
an address to the public, written by the belovtd
singer, stating with noble simplicity that.
" ns she once more had the happiness to be in our
native land, she would he glad to sing again to
her countrymen, and that the income of thf
operas in which she w is this sesson to appear
would be devoted to raise a fund for a school
where eleves for the theatre would be educated tc
virtue nni knowledge." The intelligence was
received as it deserved, and of course the opera
house was crowded every time the beloved singer
sang there.
The first time she again appeared in th?
" Somnamhula " (one of her favorite roles,) the pub
lie. after the curtain was dropped, called her bacli
with great, enthusiasm, and received her Wv,"aeh.1
' will) n roar of '? hurr"' 1U
of the burst ot applause, a oiear, moltdiMV war
bling was beard. The hurrshs were hushed in
stiintly. And we saw the lovely singer standin]
with her arms slightly extended, somewhat bowini
forward, gntceful as a bird on its branch, war
bling as no bird ever did, from note to note?am
on every one a clear, strong, roaring warble?nntl
she fell into the retournello of her last song, ant
again sang that joyful and touching strain .
"No thought can conceive how I feci at my heart.''
She has now accomplished the good work t<
which our latest soups in Sweden hare been de
roted. and she is again to leave her natire land t<
sinp to a far remote people She is expected thit
year in the United States of America, and her ar
rival is welcomed with a general feeling of joy
All hare heard of her whole history we have now
slightly shsdowed out; the expected gueat, th?
poor little girl of former days, the celebrated
singer of now-n-days, the genial child of nature
and art, is?Jknny Link !
for tbe National Kra.
SECESSION.-No. I.
All abolitionists believe that holding men p.s
property is always sinful, that it ought to be dedared
a term of communion in every church, and
that duty as well ns policy demands the immediate
emancipation of the enslaved. But reformers,
though agreeing in principles, often disagree as to
the best means and ways of carrying out their
principles. This, while It does not prove their
principles to be false, greatly retards the progress
of reform.
8uch a difference has unhappily obtained
among us. Hume good men believe that we ought
to burst the Ifonds of fellowship with all those
churches which have not excluded slaveholders
from their communion and from other organ!xa
tions. Others honestly believe that such a course
is fraught with evil, not only to the Anti-Hluvery
cause, but to the interests of religion in general.
To the litter class the writer belongs. And as
much has appeared in the Em, under its different
names, on the other side of the (juration, he wishes
for ones to break the silence on his side, and show
the reasons which actuate us.
We all ngree that there are but two great parties
on the earth?the church and the world;
that tbe world consists of a great many subordi
nate parties ? us in? ragans, me rvianomeuane.
the Jews, rii'1 apostate Christians; that the
chureh, though one great whol- by union with a
common Head, is unhappily divided into many
sects or parties; that a subordinate church may
become apostate, and go back to the world, when
it is our duty to withdraw from it; and that the
mm who belongs to one party in the world, has
fellowship not with that party merely, but with
the whole world Now, we would suppose it
would follow of course, from these principles, that
the man who Is a member of one branch of the
church of Christ has fellowship with the whole
church, and that it is his duty to manifest this
fellowship by communing at the Lord's table with
brethren of other denominations, whenever he
has a suitable opportunity. But these two principles,
instead of being admitted as true, form one
binge of the controversy between "eorne-outere"
sod their opposers Let all admit that they are
true, and everything like close or parly communion
is at once swept from the church, and those
who set up such communions are chargeable with
"causing divisions contrary to the doctrine we
have received"?that is, unauthorized divisions
such divisions aa are not sanctioned by the teachings
of the Bible. But are these principles truel
Many of the most earnest advocates of secession
are Presbyterians Their " Confession of Faith"
says, ch ip. sec. 3, "Haintshy profession sr<
bound to maintain a boly fellowship and communion
in the worship of God, and in performing
such other spiritual services as tend to their mutual
edification, .... which communion, as God
cftereth opportunity, is to be extended onto all
those who in every place call npon the name 01
the Lord Jesus." According to this," professed
saints" are bound to commune t/i the trort/np oj
God with all who call on the name of Christ
But in chap. 31, under the head u Religious Wor
ship," it is declared that the due sdministratioi
and worthy receiving of the aacraineots institute!,
by Christ is a part of the ordinary religious wOr
shipofUod. What becomes, then, of sectariai
communion, if this be true7 And what righ
have those who hold this Confession to set up am
maintain communions with the avowed purpose o
being separate, not only from other Presbyterist
Christians, and Presbyterian anti-slavery Chris
liana, but from all other Christians who canno
adopt their peculiarities 7 But, even with Pre*
byterians, the Confession of Faith ia not the las!
resort. To the word and to the testimony.
When Pawl wrote his first epistle to theoburcli
of Corinth, that church was rent and tossed will
' conflicting purties These schisms hA<lv f
ripened into separate communities, for sucL
thing as a separate communion whs as vet i\
known in the church of God. Hut Paul saw thl
; there was danger of it, and he knew well that to
| set up a sep irate communion is to consummate
j and crown a schism To prevent this, be says.
] 1 Cjt. x, 16, 17: ' The cup of hlessiDg which we
| bless, is it not the communion of the blood of
j Christ f The bread which we break, is it not the
| communion of the bo<fy of Christ ? For we being
many, are one bread an 1 pe Am/y, for we are all
partakers of that one bread." Two things are
here taught us 1st. That the church of Christ,
however much it may be divided into sects and
parties, is one body. 2d. That in the Lord's
Supper we hold and declare our fellowship?not
merely with the party to which we may happen
; to belong, but with the whole church. It is the
i communion of the Wy of Christ?for/ire being
many, are one bread and one body, &e. Now. let
III lir (tlutuluiftu, lUBi MtSltll Ol t ?Ol wnft IV I
heal divisions in the church and to prevent them j
the setting up of separate 'communions. And to"
do this he tells them that, in spite of their sects
and parties, they were really but one body, and
' that they declared this onene?< every time they
partook of the Lord's Supper Where, then, is the
j idea, that by withdrawing from other branches of
the church, and setting up new organisations, we
get rid of the evils which are in tb? old 1 As Mr
Gordon truly say a, "We only change eccLaiaatical
localities in the kingdom of God." The evils
we seek to avoid are still in the church nnd we
are in the church. And every time we sit down
at the Lord's table, we declare our communion
with the whole body. What, then, have we gained
by aeceasion? We have swept off what we consider
to be a cleHU place at the. table of the Lord,
and have taken our seat. But while we are
glorying in our purity, we cast our eye along
the table, and find the whole church of Christ
sitting with us there! We have acted as wisely
as my little finger would act, if, grieved at its coni
nection with a diseased body, it were to "change
; its locality" by ascending to my elbow or td my
j shoulder, or t ike some other position in my body
It might shift and shift its (ilacc as much as it
pleased, but still be a member of that very body
whose di>>eanfs it wiaoeff to shun If the (oat '
j shall say, " because 1 am not the hand, not of
i the body," is it therefore not of the body? And
I if the ear shall say, "because I am not the eye 1
am not of th? kxiy," is it therefore not of the
j bodyl All such protestations nre vain, and Paul
| uses this argument to show us the folly of making
j or keeping up parties in the church Now, let it
not be said that our secession, brethren, argue in
favor of withdrawing from aposta'e churches
alone. Mr Gordon says, in his sermon, page
6: "Iler aggrieved members arc not to wait
until she is certainly apostate'' And again, "It
is a mistake to suppose that we are to remain in
a church until we Bre satisfied she is anti-christian
and apostate." Their cry, "come out," is addressed
not only to Christians who may he in
apostate churches,but others who are in churches
' still holding fellowship with the Head. They
call upon such, to "chxnge their locality in the
kingdom of God," that they may get rid of slaveholders.
Our reply is, if that kingdom he one,
i an t the Lord's Supper be what Paul declares it
i to be?not the badge of a party, but a token of
i fellowship with all the citizens of that kingdom?
we may as well stay where we are. It is like refusing
to sit down at the end of the communion
table where a bad man is seated, and flattering
, ourselves that we have no fellowship with him
> because we take our seat at the middle or at the
i other end. No, it will not do. Our communion
i is either with the whole ohnrch or with the whole
world And it is remarkable, that our brethren,
I the come-outers, proclaim this very principle,
i They make it the basis of all their arguments
i and appeals If we tell them that the particular
t congregation to which we belong is anti-slavery,
they reply, " being a constituent part of the whole
denomination, you hold communion with (hat
! whole denomination" Thus, Mr. Gordon says,
. "The Presbyterian church is one consolidated
l body, under the control of the Assembly. Conscv
- the fellowship of the slaveholder when separated
i- a thousand miles than ten feet." This proposition
g is undeniably true. And we do not chnnge it, but
g only extend its application when we state it thus
. The church of Christ is one consolidated body,
1 under the control of its Divine Head. ConseI
?|iiently we commune on every occasion virtually
1 with the whole church, and we no more csoape the
fellowship of the slaveholder when separated a
thousand miles than ten feet. Let. the advocates
of secession reject the principle on its application
> if fKsv ruin II. S. FllL/.KKTON.
' For the National Era.
! SONNET. - ETERNITY.
r IIV J. 11. Ill XIIY.
| The dxy* gone by <**n never b? forgot?
Vet we *houhl not lament they are no inure,
Or wUh to live their palling plawure* o'er?
Fur the great Future fixed* our deepest tin ugh),
It f >!<! our only hop*. O, it la not
Within the |iower of all our highest lore
The Donetoundo! I.ife'e page inuet e'er liefore
Our Hietory hlaekeu?ne'er to bleach, though blot
May hide it* reoorde. Vee, the I'aet unlet bold
lu it* relentle** graep our l.lfe gone by?
The l're*ent tliee ere we oan eay, "'tie here'"
Yet 'tie our all of Time. Ktsmnitv,
tioue and To Come, Fxletenoe doth unfold,
Ami but the Yet To-He, doth need our hope or (ear.
Hoynh on, N. I".
For the National Kra.
THE IMIWERS OF THE GENERAL GOVERNMENT
OVER SLAVERY.
The strongest speeches thnt bare hern made
in Congress on the Southern ride of Ihe Territorial
(juration hare hern made by thorn* who claim
that the rights of slavery or slaveholding are inherent
in the Constitution, and a part of the fundamental
law . and strange to say, that this principle
haa been conceded in several instance* by
Northern statesmen This is a correct opinion,
or it is incorrect, and a question that may yet
hare to be decided by the Supreme Court of the
United States So far, its decisions hate not
reached this point, although, on incidental questions
that hare been decided, the opinions of the
Court appear to be of an opposite tendency.
If it is true, that under the operation of the
United Slates Constitution in the Territories of
the United States and elsewhere, the right of the
slaveholder, in one of the States, to his sluve on
removal to the Territories, u n/ual to the clause
in the Constitution which says, "No person shall
be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without
due process of law," then it follows, that, slavery
is a part of the fundamental law, and that State
laws and State Constitutions are rquul in authority
to the Constitution aud laws of the United
States.
Those that defend this doctrine argue by implication
that because, in a few instances and for
particular reasons, the fundamental law not iusprntlnl
in its operations by thai very ml, the fundamental
law of lilnrly is destroyed, and the
right of a man to his liberty is no longer an uml
i itnable 11xhi, but must rest on some legal decision
. or court of record.
i Again let the advocates of this doctrine ronw//tr;
for, if it is true that slavery under the Coni
stitution has equal rights with Freedom, under
the force of StHte laws as well as by inherent
right in said Couatitution, it follows that the yot.l,
uf nil the N/utn are resnonsihle for its exist
i ence in any particular Stat*. Our right to legis'
late on the subject become* inhrrtnl in Congrrss
j under the Constitution, and Congresa may at any
. time abolish slavery throughout the Htates when;
ever the opponent* of slavery hare the power
The advocated for the fundamental law of freeI
dorn, in all placea where the United Ntatee auI
tbority ie eacluaive, have never claimed to oxerf
ciae it in the States. Then by constitutional proI
visions, this fundamental law was suspended as
f respects those held to servioe or labor in such
States according to thr loan thrrrof, but slavery
received no am pan en by this Constitution, nor
I had conceded to it any extra-territorial force, eii
rept us by law provided for the return of fugitives
. from labor, but not any such law as that of 1793
) either, or such a substitute as the bill of Mr. Mat
son proposes That m not thr. prut antr.nlIt. They
I both lack the constitutional provision?due jnof
ctt o/ law.
i As the fundamental law of Idrerty is not sus.
pended by einntuutioruil provutoiu in the District
t of Columbia or in the Territories of the United
. .States, therefore there is no UkuI way whereby
t tlai'ty can have a/'go/ existence under United
States laws, nor oan it be allotrnl by any authority
\ without a violation of constitutional provisions.
I Stuara.
for the Nation*) kr?
" THE MORMON UDTIIKIR CITY (IP
KKPPCK."
^Hr. Bailky : Under this caption. in the A'uti>??Em
of August loth. I notice an article o*er
signature of ' J Q. W " la that article our
"Vned'-iu iker friend has expressed his sytn
|g for the uoforturiate and oppressed. This
nj^YCteristic of him . and I rejoice he 94) often
of maf 'r0<y' ft*'1"*- ^ot 'he sin-cursed race
thies h?l one lleing whose sympaexcrciiMruf
HUf* righteous, and who, in their
pressed^" not C0Tpr 'he fiults of the opoi)t>res*iolinju"^
condenin the instrument of
lible, neitl^ur fr,en^ ''J G W." is not iofalwith
the eu\ I percei*e. fully acquainted
held his rei\0' wh'ch he treats, lie has not
counties in VKP in J 'ckson and surrounding
js__ ?>?? - 'l-irzzt ...
neighbor to the > Illinois. Ii.d he been a
kW"w? ? e- * 1-v a
rerenv wi.AuWiM.**- *"? uwV*tftfta>ed a aif
uected with their dNt?H someof the factsconw.-.
-rt kr.- 1--?
.-u I nr w?.? <-apui?iuU rroni I n (.(.?
Illinois near twent W>m hf?-n in the .State of
been adjacent to the V and hi* residence has
may be as well qualifiHPU lit1 ultien. and he
wrong of the matter asYlge 01 the right and
setts friend ; and lest no tote. n,? l M
ed to writing for the publW, more ucousutn
to correct a few mistakes inyl I feel d??P'
1 attempt to do it in my plainrticlealluded to.
When the expul-ion frtun
in the winter of lh.'lh-'y, aftidavhnri
affair were "given before the eivV"ern'nK !
Missouri, and filed, and forwardwl\l>oritiee < (
by the Senate of the United StatesVpublish' i
pat hies of Illinois were elicited on tah? "J"1
aud as the fugitives tied across the MiiV"".
our State, they were met by the hospital'1 !
the people, and sheltered, and fed, and S? ''
"A large number arrived opposite Huitfif!
February and March, when the ice in the t?"
was running so fast they were obliged to eocaf
in the open woods, without clothes or sbelt?\
The citizens of Uuincy, to the honor of themselves,
ot civiliiition and humanity, expressed
tfteir abhorrence and detestation of the princ/p/etr *
of the authors of their calamity, and entered on a
course of vigorous and systematic eff orts to relieve
their necessities, and provide for their fuiuie
wants" As a community, we fel/.thst they k?J ?
been outraged in our sister State, anflf they were
welcome to our borders Had they taken up
their abode among us, like other emigrants, they
would now, doubtless, be enjoying our privileges
in common with others; hut this was not according
to the genius of Mornionism. Their famous
leader, Joe Smith, stuck a stake at Nauvoo, and
there gathered his followers, lie, it is well
known, had full control over their consciences,
I and regulated all their religious and political
acts. Party Bpirit was a powerful engine at the
lima an. nnklla ....... Tk. ,.i> iL.
...... ?... .... U- ? uc ,ulc Hi mr
Mormons wouM weigh heavily in one or the other
of the scales of political strife, au<l, of course,
each was anxious to conciliate those who perhaps
held or would hold the balance of power. Joe
Smith applied to our Legislature for sundry charters,
all of which he obtained without modification
Some of theni were of an extraordinary
character fur a sober, judicious legislative body
to grant. One "incorporated their city with peculiar
privileges;" another incorporated a standing
army, under the name of the Nauvoo Legion; a
third was for a company to build a temple worth
$100 000; a fourth for a company to build a tavern
house of the same value; another for a university
; and a sixth for a manufacturing company.
These privileges, thus granted, placed them
above all other communities in the State, and the
writer of this article, on learning how much the
Legislature had granted them, made the remark
to his frieuds, as early as 1841, "These charters
will end in bloodshed I"
As they gathered from various points in the
Union, and from Kngland even, to this favored city,
they soon obtained ascendency over the older inhabitants
of the county, and controlled the elec- ^
other religious seet assumed thp same amount of
political power, the community would have regarded
them with a suspicious eye; and why
should they not them f Would that this had been
all! Would that their "officers had been peace,
and their exactors righteousness!" They had
been, still, the happy possessors of their beautiful
city' Hut the inhabitants of Hunoock county
soon found, to their sorrow, that the same complaints,
male against these same people m, and
which was theostensiblcreasdn for their expulsion
from Missouri, were >7i//chargeable on them Their
prophet and their lenders taught thein thst they
were the Lord's people, that "the earth is the
Lord's, and the fulness thereof," and that it all helonged
to th'-m. At least, there wis a sufficient
number among them to act on thai principle; and
depredation upon depreciation followed upon the
property of the oitizens, till none held his
rights secure. Their oattleand their swine would
disappear from their prairies, and their bee-hives
?nd their tools from their out-houses. Nothing
was safe If any were prosecuted on proof suffi
cient to convict in a court of justice, they had the
sheriir, the justices, the constables, and the juries,
and no convictiou could be obtained
Such was the condition of Hancock county, and
that county was not the only sufferer The
Lord's people did not confine themselves to Nauvoo,
or Hancock oounty. They were scattered
abfoad among us, and we hsd all come to feel that
we could place no confidence in a Mormon He
would be a good neighbor, and deal fairly, till he
had you in bis grasp, then you were bitten, anil
the Mormon was in Nauvoo? verily, the " city of
refuge!" Such lias been the experience of hundreds,
not, inhabitants of Hancock county. Ami
what coubl the old settlers of that county do I
They could tnke the remains of their personal
property, and migrate to other parts in penury
and distress. Their farms they could not sell but
to Mormons, and at their own price. They were
in a desperate case And sinoe they could not
get redress at law, they took the case into their
own hands. They rose in their might, and determined
to r*efend their property and their
homes And who were th>y? As respectable a
community as in any other county in the State,
and I b' pe our friend does not think we are nil
"the blackleg and nomadic rascality of the Mississippi
valley," for such are his own words. A'<>,
mt; as good men as society affords rose, as our
ancestors rose in the Revolutionary struggl e, to
defend the rights that they could not otherwise
retain Nor could they have contended success
fully, had not the friends of order and peace from
surrounding counties volunteered for their assistance.
It was a common cause. Ami for any
to assert or insinuate that the Mormons were persecuted
here fir their religion, ie a grow), though
it may be nn ignorant slander, utile** lawlessness,
robbery, ami the ipuitunl wi/< \y<t>m, are the religion
of the sect. 7'//e.r? were " thoee absurdities
or novelties of worship and faith, which were
made the eicuae of a new Christian unmade on
the part of the blnckieg and nomadic rascality of
the Mississippi valley"
Our friend quote* from a "brilliant discourse
before the Pennsylvania Historical Society," and
naya he derive* " many of the material* of hia
sketch" from it. If *uch i* the character of
I listory. 1, for one, cun put no trust in iU record*.
Our friend again tnytt, "the author of the Discourse
before us denies emphatically the charge*
which have been preferred against I heir habitual
purity of life, integrity of dealing, * * * their
regard for law, ami their devotiou to constitutional
government." Hi* denial will not bliud
the eye* of ten thou*aud witnesses to the existence
of ficts, proving the contrary. We have
those in our families who left Nauvoo, ami father
and mother and frieutl*,and cast themselves upon
strangers, rather than be subject to iosultn from
those of high standing In the church! Purity?
We feel that a poison haa been spread around us,
that to this day rankles and festers among our
population!
Hut the Mormons suffered?yes, extremely.
The expulsion was cruel in its effects on indi- >
viduals. It is so in all the dispensations of Pr?videnoe.
The innooent suffer with the guilty. Hut
we are not charged with plundering They
were permitted to take all they had , and the
sympathise of the people, that responded am** to
their departure, sent clothing and provisions and
medicine to the destitute ami sick , and the little
city of (luincy, a near neighbor to Hancock,
while they in public meeting felt constrained to
guard against an access of population from their
sister oily, Nauvoo, made up a contribution of
some five to seven hundred dollars, to help thein
on their pilgrimage. Probably no oounty in the
State of Illinois would have dealt more mercifully
with them than did the oounty that deteruiioed
on their expulsion That every act of the expelling
power was the most judiciously chosen,
or most kindly exeouted, would indeed he a woos~
- i mi?we JM