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THE NATIONAL ERA.
M ' -
\i. BaILKY, EDITOR AND I' R o I' R | i; TO R JOHN G. WHITTIBR, CORRESPONDING EDITOR.
VOL. IV MO. 42 WASHj\(;T(>\ THURSDAY,OCTOBKR 17. ISoO, WHOLE NO 198
yd, ItiliiiHl Kra U I'ublished Weakly, ?u Jivveoiih
Street, opi>a>ite tl.ld FVIIowV llnll.
TERMS.
!'ffo '1 illars per annum, payable i? advance.
\dvertiseinentfl not cxceediug ton lines inaerutd
-,-i-e times tor one dollar; every subsequent in* rti
>?, twenty-fire cents.
\ll communications to the Em, whether on
t, i-ines* of the ptper or for publication, should
I, vl'lrewtd toO. Hailky, Wankingtaa, D C.
4UK1.L <fc KI.ANt HAKti, PKINTKKS,
>i *th street, * fee <l?ora south of KermeylTania tvt nus.
HIE NATIONAL ERA
w VSIHVC.TO^. OCTOIIKIl 11 18M>
r? ,i
I'rom Cli.iniWre's Edinburgh Journal.
JII8ABEAI - W WKI'DOTE (IF HIS mutt
LIFK.
'I he public life us well as the private character
of Mirabeau are universally known; but tbe
toll-i* iug anecdote has not, we believe, been rer
.fli'd hi any of the biographies. The mtrticu- j
\ r, w<re included in the brief furui?h#dh^ \)
i ia'.iu itie ri voc ite-geurrni in the Parliament
,/ Provence. when he was retained lor the de- '
fence of Madame Mirabeau in her husband's i
process against her. M de G.ilitz ine afterward
tallowed the Hourbons iuto exile, and returned J
with them in 1*1-1; and it is on his authority that I
the story is given as fact.
Mirabeau had just been released from the i
dungeon of the cas'le of Vinccnnes near Paris j
II had been confined there for three years and !
a half, by virtue ot that most odious mandate, |
a I'ttre ilt ciich-t. llis imprisonmeut h id been of!
n most painful nature; and it was prolonged j
at iLe iii-'itn" of hit* father, the Marquis ue
,\lir?l < iu On his being reconciled to his father,
the confinement terminated. in theyenr 1780, when
Mini be* u w .8 ihirty-oue years of age.
One of bis fitber's conditions was. that Mirabrvx
should reside for some time at a distance
from I'iris: and it his settled that he should go
en a visit to his brother-in law. Count du Sail- j
l int, whose estate w ts situated a few leagues from '
the city of List '.be nf 'be .[.imousin ,
Accordingly, the Count went to Vincenues to re- |
ceive Mirabeau on the day of his liberation, ;
and they pursued their journey at once with all i
speed.
The arrival of Mirabeau at the ancient manorid
chateau created a great sensation in that remote
part of France. The country gentlemen
residing in the neighborhood had often heard
him spoken of as a reins < i. able man, not only on j
account of his brilliant talents, but also for his !
violent passions; an I they hastened to the chute
.11 to contemplate a being who had excited their
curiosity to an extraordinary pitch. The greater
portion oI these country squires were mere sportsmen.
whose knowledge did not extend much beyond
the names and qualities of their dogs and
horses. and m whose houses n wouui nine u?en
almost in vain to seek for any other book than the
lo :il alumnae, containing the list of the fairs and
markets, to which they repaired with the utmost
punctuality, to loiter away their time, talk about
their rural affairs, dine abundantly, and wash
down their food with strong Auvergnc wine.
Count du Saillant was ?juite of a different
stamp from his neighbors, lie had seen the world,
he commanded a regiment, and at that period his
cbfttctu was perh ips the most civilized country
residence ln'the Limousin. People came from a |
considerable distauoe to visit its hospitable owner ; j
twai . t&eng the guests there was a curious mixture j
of provincial oddities, clad in their (juaint cos- I
tunics. At that epoch, indeed, the youug Limousin
noblemen, when they joined their regiments.
to don their sword and epaulets for the
tirst time, were very slightly to be distinguished,
either by their manners or appearance, from their
rustic retainers.
It will easily be imagined, then, that Miraheau,
'vhn wis fit'ied with Urillant natural qualities,
cultivated ami polished by education?a man.
moreover, who h.ul seen much of the world, aud
hi id been engaged in several strange and perilous
adventures?occupied the most conspicuous post
in this a >ciety, many of the component members
whereof seemed to have barely reached the first degrees
in the scale of civilization. His vigorous
frame , his enormous head, augmented in bulk by a
lofty friz/lpd to'ffNf ; his huge face, indented with
scars and furrowed with seams, from the effect
of small.pox injudiciously treated in his childhood;
hi t piercing eyes, the reflection of the tumultuous
passions at war within him ; his mouth,
?hose expression indicated in turn irony, disdain,
indignitioo, and benevolence ; his dress, always
treiully attended to. but in an exaggerated style, 1
giving him somew hat the air of a travelling char- |
l it >n decked out with embroidery, large frill,and
rallies: in short, this extraordinary-looking in- [
individual astonished the country folks even be- I
inn* ne opened iiih mouth. I>ut when bis sonorous
voice w is he?rd, nnd his imagination, heated by
some interesting subject of conversation, imparted
a high decree of energy to his eloquenue, some of
the worthy rustic hearers feltusthongh they were
in the pr-si-nce of a saiut, others in that of a
d< vil and according to their several impressions,
they were tempted either to fall down at his feet,
or to exorcise him by making t he sign of the cross,
and uttering a prayer.
>' tied in a large antique arm-chair, with his
feet stretched out on the tloor, Mirabeau often
contempl iied. with a smile playing on his lips,
those men who seemed to belong to the primitive
ages so simple, fr.nk, and at the same time
el wnish, were they in their manners. He
listened to their eonversations, which generally
turned upon the chase, the exploits of their
logs, or the excel! nee of their horses, of whose
breed and qualifications they were very proud.
Mirabeau entered freely into their notions;
' "ilt an intereat in the success of their sporting
projects; talked, too, about crops; chestnuts,
of which large quantities are proluced in
the Limousin live aud dead stock; ameliorations
in husbandry ; and so forth ; and he quite
won the hearts of the company by bis familiarity
with the topics in which they felt the most interest,
and by his good nature.
This monotonous life was. however, frequently
wearisome to Mirabeau; and in order to vary it,
and for the sake of exercise, after being occupied
for several hours in writing, he was in the habit
f taking a fowling-piece, according to the custom
"f th" country, and putting a hook in'o his gtinebig.
he would frequent ly make long excursions
' n foot in every direction He admired the noble
forests of chestnut trees which alstund in the Liinotisin
. the vast meadows where numerous herds
of cattle of a superior breed are reared; and the
running streams by which that picturesque country
is intersected. He generally returned to the
chateau 1.>ng after sunset, saying that night scenery
w ?s peculiarly attractive to him.
It w is during and after supper that those con'emtious
took place for which Mirabeau supplied
' >e principal an l most interesting materials He
|osW-?.,| knack of provoking objections to
what he might advance, in order to combat them,
he did with great force of logic and in enerf'
tic language ; and thus be gave himself lessons
in argument, caring little about his auditory, his
v niin being to exercise his mental ingenuity
"il to cultivate eloquence Above all, be was
t' I of di-tgissing religious matters with the ourf'
'he parish. Without displaying much latitud'Otrianism,
he disputed several points of doctrine
' a I certain pretensions of the church so acutely,
'"i (tie pastor could say but little in reply. This
s'onbhed the Limousin gentry, who, up to that
'one h td listened to nothing but the drowsy di?"trjes
of their cur^t, or the sermons of some ob "iire
mendicant friars, and who plac-d implicit
ith in the dogmas of the church The faith of a
' * was shaken, but the greater number of his
!," irers were very much tempted to look upon the
'id'crae an emissary of Satan, sent to the chateau
"s'ruy them The curf, however, did not der
of eventually converting Mirahesu.
^ this period, several robberies hud taken
p! -,t n0 |jrett distance from the chateau four
r f'?e farmers had been stopped shortly nfter
' 'khtfall on their return from the market-town-,
,n I rotibed of their purses Not one of these
I rs oh had offered any resistance, fur each prerr,'d
to make a sacrifice rather than run the
r:,k of a struggle in a country full of ravines.
<nl covered with a rank vegetation very fnvort'
to the eiploits of brigands, who might be
f)"g in wait to massacre any individual who
""ght resist the one detached from the band to 1
I'uiaod the traveller's money or his life There \
'"r kges ceased for a short time, but they soon 1
r 'ommenc, d, and the robbers remained undis- j
covered
"ne evening, about an hour after sunset, a
*'c?t srrived at the chateau, lie was one of
^ unt du S illlant's most intimate friends, an I '
w " ou his way home from a neighboring fair, j
Thin gentleman appeared to be very thoughtful.
uuJ spoke but little, which surprised everyl<ody,
inasmuch as he was usually a merry companion.
His gasconade had frequently roused
\1irubesu from his reveries, and of this he wns
not a little proud. He had not the reputation of
being particularly courageous, however, though
he of en told glowing tales about bis own exploits;
and it must be ndmittcd that he look the roars of
laughter with which they were usually received
very good-hunioredly.
Count du Raillant being much surprised at this
sudden change in his friend's manner, took him
aside after supper, and begged that he would accompany
him to another room. When they were
there nlone, he tried in vain for a long time to
ohtain a satisfactory answer to his anxious inquiries
sh to the cause of his frieud's unwonted
melancholy and taciturnity. At length the visitor
?
"Nay, nay; you would twver believe it. \'<3U
.tj j teJIin^ vou one of my
tableau. w (am mem; ant per
haps this time we might fajl out."
" What do you mean ?" cried Count du Saillant.
" This seems to be a serious alf tir. Am I.
then, connected with your preseutiuieuts?"
" Not exactly you ; but "
" What does this hut mean ? bias it anything
to do with my. wife ? KxpWq yourself."
" No. the i^ast in the world. Madame du Saillant
is in nowise concerned iu the matter;
but"
' But f?hut ! you tire me out with your huts.
Are you resolved to worry me with your mysteries
! Tell nie at once what has occurred?what
has happened to you?"
'"Oh, nothing?nothing at all. No doubt I was
frightened."
" Frightened '?and at what ? by whom ? For
God's sake, my dear friend, do not prolong this
painful state of uncertainty."
Do you re dly wish me to speak out ?"
Not only so, but I demand this of you as an
act of friendship."
' Well, I was stopped to-night at about the dis
tance of half a league from your ch&teau.
"Stopped ! In what way? By whom?"
" Why. stopped as people are stopped by footpads
A gun was levelled at me; I was peremptorily
ordered to deliver up my purse; I threw it
down on the ground, and galloped oil". Do not
:iak ;dp any more ouestions "
' Why not ? ! wish to know all. Should you
know the robber again? Did you notice his figure
and general appearance ?"
" It being dark, I could not exactly discover ;
I cannot positively say. However, it seems to
me"
" What seems to you ? What or whom do you
think you saw ?"
" 1 never can tell you'.''
"Speak?speak; you cannot surely wish to
screen a malefactor from justice ?"
" No; but if the said malefactor should be "
" If he were my own son, I should insist upon
your telling me."
" Well, then, it appeared to me that the robber
was your brother-in-law, Mirahk*ii! But
I might be mistaken; and, as 1 said before,
fear "
"Impossible; no, it cannot be. Miraheau a
footpad ! No, uo. You arc mistaken, my good
friend."
" Certainly?certainly."
" Let us not speak any more of this." said
Count du Saillant. " We will return to the
drawing-room, and I hope you will be as gay as
usual; if not, 1 shall set you down as a madman.
I will so manage that our absence shall not be
thought anything of"
And the gentlemen reentered the drawing-room,
one a short time before the other.
The visiter succeeded in resuming his accustomed
manner ; but the Count fell into a gloonty
; reverie, in spite of all his efforts. He could not
; banish from his mind the extraordinary Btory he
had heard?it haunted him; and at last, worn
j out with the most painful conjectures, he again
i took his friend nside, questioned him afresh, and
the result was, that a plan was agreed upon for
! solving the mveterv It whs arranged that M
] De should in the course of the evening men,
tion casually, as it were, that he was engaged on
a certain day to meet a party, at a friend's house
i to dinner, and that he purposed coming afterward
; to take a bed at the chateau, where he hoped to
j arrive at nine in the evening. The announcement
was accordingly made in the course of conj
versatiou, when all the guests were present?
1 good care being taken that it should be beard by
1 Mirabcau, who at the time wns playing a game of
j chess with the curd.
A week passed away, in the course of which a
farmer was stopped and robbed of his purse, and
at length the critical night arrived.
Count du Saillant was upon the rack the whole
eveniug; and his anxiety became almost unbearable
when the hour for his promised arrival had
passed without his having made his appearance.
Neither had Miraheau returned from bis nocturnal
promenade. Presently a storm of lightning:,
thunder, and heavy ruin, came on; in the midst
of it the bell at the gate of the court-yard rang
loudly. The Count rushed out of the room into
the court-yard, heedless of the contending elements;
and before the groom could arrive to take
hi-* friend's horse, the anxious host was at his
side. His guest was in the act of dismounting.
" Well," said M. He , "I have been stopwvAsl
lr iu saailu 1. ft I t'O/iAOH I fli'i I h I IT) IllT
,c .? ?v...V "V . ? I -fectly."
Not a wonl more was spoken then , but as soon
as the groom had led the horses to the stables, M.
I)e rapidly told the Count that, during the
storm, and as be was riding along, n man, who
was half-concealed behind a very large tree, ordered
him to throw down his purse. At that moment
a fiieh of lightning enabled him to discover
a portion of the robber's person, and M. I)e
rode at him; but the robber retreated a few
pares, and then, levelling his gun at the horseman,
cried with a powerful voice, which it was impossible
to mistake, " I'tsa on or you are a dead man!"
Another (lash of lightning showed the whole of
the robber's figure?it was Mirabeau, whose voice
had already betrayed him! The wayfarer, having
no inclination to be shot, put spurs to his
horse, and soon reached the chateau.
The Count enjoined strict silence, and begged
of hie friend to avoid displaying any change in
his usual demeanor when in company with the
other guests , he then ordered his valet to come
again to him as soon as Vlirah- au should return
Mali an hour afterward, Miral?eau arrived He
was wet to the skin, and hastened to his own
room; he told the servant to inform the Count
that he could not join the company at the evening
meal, and begged that his sapper might be
brought to his room; and he went to bed as soon
as he had supped.
All went on as usual with the party assembled
below, eicepting that the gentleman who had had
so unpleasant an adventure on the road appeared
more g<y than usual
When his guests had all departed, the master
of the house repaired alone to his brother-in-law's
apartment. He found him fast asleep, and wis
obliged to shake him rather violently before he
could arouse him.
What's the matter ? Who's there? What do
you want with me?" cried Mirabeuu. staring at
his brother-in-law. whose eyes were flashing with
rage and disgust.
" What do I want ? I want to tell you that you
are a wretch P
'' A fine compliment, truly P replied Mirabeau,
with the greatest coolness "It was aoarcely
worth while to awaken me only to abuae me , go
away, and let me sleep "
" Gin you sleep after hating committed so bad
an action? Tell me?where did you pass the
evening? Why did you not join us at the supper-table
?"
"I was wet through?tired?harassed; I had
been overtaken by the storm. Are you satisfied
now I Go, and let me some sleep ; do you
want to keep me chattering all night?"
" I insist upon an eiplanation of your strange
conduct. You stopped Monsieur De on his
way hither this evening. This is the second time
you have attacked that gentleman, for he recognised
you as the same man who robbed him a
week ago. You have turned highwayman,
then P
' Would it not have been all in good time to
tell me this to-morrow morning?'' said Mirabeau,
wi'b inimitable innt;/rout. " Supposing that I tint
stop your friend, what of that ?"
" Th it you arc a wretch!"
" And that you are a fool, my dear du Saillsnt.
Do you imagine that It was for the sake of his
money that I stopped this poor country s<juire ?
I wished to pu' him to the proof, and to put myself
to the proof I wished to ascertain what degree
of resolution was neci-mary in order to place
one's self in formal opppoaition to the most sacred
la ws of society ; the trial was a dangerous one, hut
I have made it several times. I am satisfied with
myself?hut your friend Is a ooward "
lie then felt in the pocket of hia waistcoat
which lay on a chair hy hit bed side.anl, drawing
i a key from it. said?
" Take this key. open n>y trrvioif*, and bring
me the second drawer on the left Lund."
The Count, astounded Ht so much coolness, ml
carried away hy an irresistible impulse tor MirI
abeau spoke with the greatest firmness?unheard
| the cabinet, and brought the drawer to Mir
, beau. It cont-iined nine purses; some rn.de ot
' leather, others of silk; each purs<- w t? encirc'td
hy a label cn which was written n date it was 1
that of the day on which the owuer had been
stopped and robbed; the sum contained in the
j purse was also written down
"Yon see," said Mirabeau. "that 1 did not
| wish to reap any pecuniary benefit from my proceedings
A timid person, my detr friend, could
never become a highwuyniin . a soldier who fightin
the ranks does not require half so much cour1
eye. w? f tyui You are not the kin I of man to
, uudentand me, therefore I will not attempt to
! make myself more iptelligible. You would talk !
] to nie unoov noiior?wwvuv tengion . t>*n itiesc
I have never stood in the way of a well-cousidered
i and a firm resolve. Tell me. l>u Stillant, when
; you lead your regiment into the heat of (tattle, to |
1 conquer a province to which he whom you call ;
' your master has no right whatever, do you consider
, that you are performing ?better vti.m than initio
j in stopping >#ur ft leud on th King's highway
and demanding his purse?
" 1 obey without reasoning.'' replied the Count.
"And I reason without obeying, wheu obedience
appears to me to be contrary to reason." rejoined
Mirabeau. "I study all kinds of social
positions, in order to appreciate them justly. 1
do not neglect even those positions or cases which
are in decided opposition to the established order
of things ; for established order is merely conventional,
and may be changed when it is generally
admitted to be faulty. Such a study is a dangerous.
but it is a necessary one, for him who wishes
to gain a perfect knowledge of men auJ things.
Yuu are living within the boundary of the law,
whether it he for good or evil 1 study the law.
and 1 endenvor to acquire strength enough to
i piiinliut if if if K.ii) ulu n flip t.r.>r?pr tinip *hitll
arrive/'
"You wish for n convulsion, then ?" cried the
Count, - ? * . .1
" I neither wish to bring it about, nor Jo I desire
to witness it; but, should it couie to pass
through the force of public opinion, I would second
it to tlie fuVi extent of my power. In Buch a
case you will hear me spoken of. Adieu I shall
depart to-morrow; but pray leave me now. and
let me have a little sleep.
Count du Saillant left the room without saying
another word Very early on the following morning
Mirabeau was on his way to Paris.
From the Hume Journal.
AX ED1T0KI.IL VISIT.
BY THF.ODORK S. FAY.
I was passing from my office one day, to indulge
myself with a walk, when a little, hardfaced
old man, with a black coat, broad-brimmed
hat, velvet breeches, shoes and buckles, and goldheaded
cane, stopped me, standing directly in my
path. 1 looked at him. He looked at me. 1
crossed my hands before me patiently, forced my
features into a civil smile, and waited the developement
of his intentious; not being distinctly
certain, from his firm, determined expression,
whether he was " a spirit of health or gohlin
damned," and whether his intents were " wicked
1 or charitable "?that is, whether he came to discontinue
or subscribe, to pay a bill or present
one, to offer a communication or a pistol, to shake
me by the hand, or pull me by the nose. Editors
now-a-days must always he on their guard. For
my part, I am peaceable, and much attached to
life, and should esteem it txccedmgly disagreeable
to be cither shut or horsewhipped I am not
j built for action, but love to sail in quiet waters;
; cordially eschewing gales, waves, water spouts.
I sea-serpents, earthquakes, tornadoes, and all such
j matters, both on sea and land. My antipathy to
i a horsewhip is an inheritance from boyhood. It
j carried me across Crcsar's bridge, and through
j Virgil and Horace. 1 am indebted to it for a
I tolerable understanding of grammar, arithmetic,
geography, aud other occult sciences It enlightened
menot a little upon many algebraic processes,
which, to speak truth, presented, otherwise, hut
slender claims to my consideration. It disciplined
me into a uniform propriety of manners, and
instilled into my boaaom early rudiments of wi~dom,
and principles of virtue. In my maturer
years, the contingencies of life have thrust me,
rather abruptly, if not reluctantly, into the editorial
fraternity, (heaven bless them! 1 mean them
no disrespect) and in the same candour which
distinguishes my former acknowledgments, I confess
that visions of this instrument have occasionally
obtruded themselves somewhat forcibly upon
my fancy, in the paroxysms of an article, damp_
.i. _i *
CUIllg lUf glUn VI WIIIJTO.IIUU, ?u>l V?UI-1UK ..vita
in qualifying interlineations and prudent erasures.
prompted by the representations of memory
or the whispers of prudence The reader must not
fancy, from the form of my expression, that I
have ever been horsewhipped I have hitherto
escaped, (for which heaven he | raised!) a'though
my horizon has been darkened by many a cloudy
threat and thundering denunciation.
.v one-pulling is another disagreeable branch of
the editorial business. To have any part of one
pulled is annoying; but there is a dignity about
the nose impatient even of observation or remark ;
while the act of taking hold of it with the thumb
and finger is worse than murder, and can only be
washed out with blond. Kicking, cufling, being
turned out of doors, being abused iu the papers,
kc, are bad, but these are mere minor considerations
Indeed, many of my brother editors rather
I pique themselves upon some of them, as a soldier
does on the scars obtained in fighting the battles
of his country, They fancy that, thereby, they
are invested with claims upon their party, and
suffer indefinite drestnsof political eminence to be
awakened in their bosoms I have seen a fellow
draw his hat fiercely down over his brow, and
strut nhout. with insufferable importance, on the
strength of having been thoroughly kicked by the
enemy.
This is a long digression, but if passed rapidly
through my mind as the little, hardfaced old gentleman
stood before me, looking at ine with a
piercing glance and a resolute air. At length,
unlike a ghost, be spoke first.
" You are the editor?"?Kc.
A slight motion >f acquiescence with my head,
arid an atiirmative wave of my hand, a little leaning
towards the majestic, announced to my unkown
friend the accuracy of his conjecture.
Tk? r.M cr#?nt l#?m ?n\ ftri l.uTp !?-hp tnnk
off his broad-brimmed hst and 1hi<i it down with
his cone ctrefully on the table, then seised my
haud and nhook it heattily. People are so polite
and friendly when shout to ask a favour.
" My dear sir," eaid he, ''thin in a pleasure I
hare long sought vainly. You must know, air, I
ant the editor of a theatrical weekly?a neat
i thing in its way?here's the hat number." He
fumbled about in hia pocket, and produced a redcovered
pamphlet.
" I have been some time publishing it, and,
though it is admitted by all acquainted with fta
j merits, to be clearly the best thing of the kind
: ever started this aide of the Atlantic, yet people
do not seem to take much notice of it. Indeed,
i my friends tell me that the public are not fully
aware of its existence. Pray let me be indebted (
; to you for a notice 1 wish to get fairly afloat.
; You see I have been too diflident about it. We
modest fellows allow our inferiors to pass us
'often. I will leave this number with you Pray,
| pray give it a good notice"
I le pitted in my hands th eleventh number of
i the' North American Thespian Magazine'' devoted
to the drama, and also to literature, science,
history, and the arts On reading over the prospectus
I found it vastly comprehensive, embracing
pretty much every subject in the world. If so i
extensive a plan were decently filled up in the
details, the 'North American Thespian MagaI
xine" was certainly worth the annual subscription
I money, which was only one dollar. I said so un- j
der my " lierary notices, in the next impression .
of my journal, and, although I hud not actually
read the work, yet it sparkled so with asterisks,
da?hes, an l notes of admiration, that it looked inI
added in mv criti<ine, tbat it was
elegantly got up, that ita typographical execution ,
r> Hected credit on the publi*berB. that iu failure
| would be a grie*0110 reproach to the city, that ite
editor wax a scholar, a writer, arid a gentleman,
' and waa favorably known to the literary circleM
hy the eloquence, wit, and feeling of his former
productiona. What tboae pr oduction* were. I
hould have been rather puixled to aay, never
. baring read, or even heard of theui. Thi*. howerer,
waa the cant critici*ui of the day, which ia
ao exorbitant and unmeaning, and so universally 1
cut in one mould, that I waa in aome tribulation. ,
1 on reading over the nrticle in print, to find that ,
j I had omitted the worda " native genius," which j
possess ? kind of common-law right to a place in all
articles on American literary productions Forth,
however, it went to the world, nnd I experienced
a philanthropic emotion in fancying how pleased
the little, hard-faced old gentleman would he with
these flattering encomiums on his '"Thespian
Magarine."
The very day my paper was out, as 1 was sitting
" full fathom five'' deep in an article on '"the advantages
of virtue," (an interesting theme, upon
my views of which 1 rather flatter myself.) I wis
startled by three knocks at the door, and my
a come in" exhibited to view the broad-brimmed
hat of the hard-faced old gentleman, with his
breeches, buckles, gold-headed cane, and all. He
laid aside his hat and cane with the air of a man
who has walked a great way, and means to rest
himself a while. I was very busy. It was one of
my inspired moments. Half of a brilliant idea was
.leettaly ^Wo paper. There it lay?a fragile
tit?a flower cut oft in the bud?e mere outline
?an embrvo : and rnv imagination cooling like a (
piece oi red-hot iron in the open air. 1 ratsed my
<U4:s to the old gentleman, with *\ooNi oi solemn
silence, retaining my pen ready for action, with
uiy little finger extended, and hinting, in every
way, that I was uot i' the vein." 1 kept my lips
closed. I dipped the prn in the ink stand several
times, and held it hctring over the sheet. It
world da Tkv old ^reffetnan w,u> ? ? ? t?
uriven on ins ground r>y snaxes 01 me pen, inkdrops.
or little fingers Me fumbled about in his
pockets, and drew forth the red-covered "North
American Thespian Magazine," devoted to the
drama, &e., number twelve He wanted "a xoo/l
notice. The last was rather general. 1 had not
specified its peculiar claims upon the public. I
had copied nothing That sort of critique did no
good. He begged mo to rem! this (artfully?to
analyze it?to give it a cauilul examination ' I
wis borne down by his emphatic manner: and
being naturally of a civil deportment as well as.
at that particular moment, in an impatient, feverish
hurry to get on with my treatise on the "advantages
of virtue," which I felt now oozing out
of my subsiding brain with an nlurming rapidity,
I promised to read, notice investigate, analyze to
the uttermost extent of his wishis. or at lea^t of
my ability.
) L could scarcely keep myself screwed dow n to
common courtesy till the moment of his departure;
n proceeding wbieh he accomplished with a
moot commendable self-possession and deliberate
politeness. When he was fairly gone, I poked my
head out. and called my boy.
" Peter."
"Sir."
" Did you see that little old gentleman l'etcr?"
" Yes, sir."
" Should you know him again. Peter?"
" Yes sir." ?
" Well, if he ever corne here again. Peter, tell
him I nm not in "
' Yes, sir."
I reentered my little study,and closed the door
] after me with a slam, which could only have been
perceptible to those who knew my ordinary still
and mild manner There might have been also a
slight accent in my way of turning the key. and
(candor is a merit!) I could not repress a brief
| exclamation of displeasure at the little old gen!
tleman with his magazine, who had broken in so
provokingly upon my essay on virtue " Virtue
or no virtue," thought I, "1 wish him to the <1?
My room is on the ground floor, and a window
adjoining the street lets in upon me the light and
air through a heavy crimson curtain, near which
I sit and scribhle. I wis just enlarging upon the
1 necessity of resignation, while the frown yet lingered
on my hrow, and was writing myself into a
inore calm and complacent mood, when?another
knock at the door. As 1 opened it, I heard Peter's
voice asserting, sturdily, that I had (,gone out."
Never dreaming of my old enemy, I betrayed too
i much of my person to withdraw. Hnd 1 was recog!
nised and pounced upon by the little old gentle;
mau. who had come hack to inform me that he inj
tended, as soon as tie increase of his rul?scription
i would permit, to enlarge and improve the " North
1 American Thespian Magazine," and to employ all
the writers in town. '' 1 intend, also," said he,
ami he was in the act of again laying aside that
ovcrlnsMiig bat i?u>i c ns, wheti a ery of fir? in
the neighborhood, and the smell of the hurtling
rafters attracted him into the street, where, as I
feared, he escaped unhurt In many respects fires
are calamities; but 1 ne?er saw a more forcible
exemplification of Shakspeare's remark, " there
: is some spirit of good in tilings evil. man in me
| relief afforded me on the present occasion 1
I wrote, nftir that, with inv door locked. This I
' knew w is, from the rnntined air, prejudicial to
| my health , hut what wua dyspepsy or consumption
to that little, hard-faced old gentleman?to
| those breeches?to that broad-brimmed hat?to
' those buckles?to that gold headed cane 1
Remember, Peter," said I, the second morning
after the foregoing, " I hare gone out."
" Where have you gone?' inquired Peter, wi'h
grave simplicity "They always ask me where
have you gone, sir. The little man with the hat
was here last night, and wanted to go after you."
" Forbid it heaven ! 1 have gone to Albany,
Peter, on business "
I can hear in my room pretty much what paaaes
in the adjoining one, where visiters first enter
from the street. 1 had scarcely got comfortably
seated, in a rare mood for poetry, giving the last
touch)s to a poem, which, whatever might be the
merits of llyron and Moore, I did not think altogether
indifferent, when I heard the little old
gentleman's voice inquiring for me
I rmi.si see hiiu, I have important business," it
sail.
" lb- has gone out," replied Peter, in an under
tone in which I could detect the consciousness
that he was uttering a Itouncer.
' Hut I must see him," said the voice.
" The scoundrel J" muttered I.
" lie is not in town, sir," said Peter
"I will not detnin him n single minute It is
of the greatest importance. Me would be very
sorry, t>ry} should he miss me."
I held 'my breath?there was a pause?I gave
tt.v-vlf III. fur ln-t ?Put,.r r,...I;,.,I firlt.lv
"v -r ? j i
" I le is in Albany, air. Went off at five o'clock
this morning "
" He buck noon ?"
" Don't know."
4 Where does he stay ?"
41 Don't know."
41 I'll call to-morrow"
I heard his retreating footsteps, and inwardly
resolvi d to give Peter a half-dollar, although he
di-wcrved to he horsewhipped for his readiness at
deception, i laughed aloud triumphantly, ami
slapped my hand down upon my knee with the
feelings of a fugitive debtor, who, hotly pursued
by a sheriff's officer, escapes over the line into another
county and anap* his fingers at Monsieur
Hailiff I was arointed from my merry mood of
reverie by a touch on my shoulder. I turned
suddenly. If was the hard-faced little old gentleman
peeping in from the street (lis broadbrimmed
hat and two-thirls of his face were just
lifted above the window-sill, lie was evidently
standing on tiptoe , and the window being open,
he had put aside the curtain, and was soliciting
my attention with the end of his cane
l Ah!" ssid he, 41 is it you? Well. I thovqhi
it was you, though I wasn't sure I won't interrupt
you Here are the proofs of number thirteen
. you'll find something glorious in that?just
the thing for you?don't forget me next week ?
g>od-byp I'll see you again in a day or two."
I shall not cast a gloom over my readers by
dwelling upon my feelings. Surely, sure|y,there
arc sympathetic bosoms anions them To them I
appeal. I said nothing Pew could have detected
anything violent or extraordinary in my manner,
as I took the proofs from the end of the little
old gentleman's cane, and laid them calmly on
the table. I did not write auy more about 41 vir
tue ' that morning. It whs out of the question |
Indeed, hiy mind scarcely recovered from the
shock for several days
When rny nerves are in any way irritated, I
tiri'l a w ilk in the woods u soothing and agreeable i
sedative. Accordingly, the neit afternoon, I (
wound up the affairs of the day earlier than
usual, and set out for a ramble through the groves
and along the shore of Iloboken I was soon on
one of the abrupt acclivities, wherf, through the
deep rich foliage of the intertwining branches. I '
overlooked the Hudson, the wide hay, and the
superb, steepled city, stretching in s level line of
magnificence upon the shining wsters, softened
with an overhanging canopy of thin haxe. I
gazed at the picture, and contemplated the rivalry
of Mature with art, striving which could most
delight. As my eye moved from ship to ship, I
from island to island, and from shore to shore? 1
now reposing on the distant blue, then revelling
in the nearer luxuriance of the forest green, I
heard a step in the grass, and a little ragged fel- 1
low came up and asked me if I was the editor of
the I was about replying to him affirmatively,
when his words arrested my attention. |
"A little gentleman with a hat and cane," he,
said,ha<l been inquiring for the editor, be., at
the adjoining hotel, and had given him sixpence |
I i
to run up into the woods ami find him." I rushed
precipitately, i.s I thoucht, into the thickest recesses
of the wood. The pith, however, being
very circuitous. I suddenly eainc into it, ?nd
nearly ran against a person whom it needed no
second glance to recognise, although his back was
luckily toward me The hat. the breeches, the
caue. were enough. It not, part of a red-covered
pamphlet, sticking out of the coat-pocket, was
1 If must be number thirteen I exclaimed ; and
as the little old gentleman was sauntering north,
I shaped my course with all possible celerity in a
southerly direction.
In order to proteet myself for the future. I took
precautionary measures; and in addition to having
myself denied, I kept the window down, and
made my egress and ingress through a door round
the corner, ag Peter told me he had several times
seen the little old gentleman, with a package in
his h&ud, standing opposite the one through
which we usually watered, and looking at the j
office wistfully,
i By meatis of these arrangements, 1 succeeded
j in preserving my solitude inviolate, when, to my .
indignation, I received several letters from differ- ;
\ ent parts of the country, written by my friends. j
and pressing upon me, at the solicitation of the ;
little old gentleman, the propriety of giving the
"Thespian Magazine" a good notice. 1 tire the
k St I s, ewwS- ?ni> we ! rcud (heui, into ibree
and dropped them under the table. Business
calling me, soon after, to Philadelphia, 1 stepped
on board the steamboat, exhilarate.t with the idea
that I was to have at least two or three weeks resI
pite. I reached the place of my destination about
: five o'clock in the afternoon It was lovely
weather. The water spread out like unrippled
' glass, and the sky was painted with a thousand
cnrrln. .,( ?I ?.1.1 Tl,. I.. I
j J "? ~ " a v. . I/Muirvu ,.uu f,.n.. "<- ? >
j touched the shore, and while 1 was w itching the :
! change of a lovely cloud, I heard the splash of a
' heavy body plungedjnto the water. A sudden
1 sensation run aloug the crowd, which rushed from
1 all quarters towards the spot; the ladies shrieked
| and turned away their heads; and I perceived
that a ni in had fallen from the deck, and was
struggling in the tide, with only one hand held
convulsively above the surface. Being n prac- i
ticed swimmer. 1 hesitated not a moment, but
Hung oil" my hat and coat, and sprung to his res- [
cue With some ditlieulty 1 succeeded in bearing
him to a boat and dragging him from the stream. ,
I had no sooner done so, than, to my horror and \
I astoniwhmeut, J found I had saved the little hard- )
; faced old gentleniau. His snuff-colored breeches]
j were dripping before me?his broad-brimmed hat
I floated on the current?but his cane (thank I leaven
!) had sunk forever He suffered no other
ill consequences from the cativstrophe, thau some
injury to his garments, and the loss of his cane.
His gratitude for mv exertions knew no bound-.
He assured me of his conviction that the slight
acquaintance previously existing between us.
would now he ripened into intimacy, and informed
me of his intention to lodge at the same hotel
with tne. Ho had come to Philadelphia to see
about a plate for his sixteenth number, which
was to surpass all its predecessors, and of which
he would let me have an early copy, that I might
| notice it as it des'-rved
WASHINGTON CITY-NIKS. SOITIIWORTII.
Pu i lai>ki.pii i a , Stj't'inUr ,'tO, lsr>0
To the E/lit or of the National Era:
Mv Pkak Sir Your beautiful city?our beau- j
I tiful city of Washington, in much in fault towards
those who cannot sit at hor queenly feet
! forever. 1 low she spoils every other place for us !
I hnve just been walking in Chestnut street, a
' twin in toy fancy, until now. to the "goldenest"'
j street I used to read of in the Arabian Nights when
! I was a baby-student on the banks of the Detroit.
| But this narrow avenue, those walls of dizzy altij
tude, those Dashing colors, crowded all together ,
i those majestic fronts, glorious with architectural
1 symmetry,crushed between commonplace piles of
red brick?they are half-wasted to my eye?very
much?let uie soar loftily for a simile?very much
like graces of diction, and "ornaments of rhyme,''
squandered amid the unreportnble absurdities of
A Cotigi rnsiunai r/illtl.
How my thoughts go back, regretfully, to the
patrician exclusiveness of your fine edifices! The
1 I grand Capitol, sitting like a monarch on her own
1 royal eminence?the Smithsonian, keeping her
! state like a noble abbess in her broad domain?
the City Hall, the Patent OHice, each at the
bead of her own fair avenue, and the elegant
Presidential mansion, dwelling in gardens like
the cherished daughter of a proud ntid loving
nation.
' Comparisons nrr odious." and I must not forget
Philadelphia's thousand admirable points, but
as it is difficult to repress comparison in this particular,
while the strong contrast, unpardonable
to her as to all great cities which I have seen, is
forcing itself on my observation in the streets, I
will ' shut-to the door,and lock myself up fori
an hour with other thoughts.
* ? ? - - *? .. nn t.nnL in I Kfl */t fr\W OAtnA
Illtve JUU l? I IIIIIH r IIUUR >11 .u?
of those stray thoughts ? They are not doves nor
falcons, but they will take up with sny restingplace?from
an eagle's eyrie, perching on a cliff, to
a whippoorwill's leafy covert, nestled by the
ground Perhaps they are somewhat between
geese and swans; in that case, they will glide
gently enough, as on their own element, down the
sometimes sparkling, sometimes turbid stream of
weekly journal-reading. Shall I send some of
thein now-aud-then to you?
I cannot promise to be witty, philosophic, or
poetical, but I will tell you what I see and what
I think , and if there \houb/ come in an occasional
| flash of poesie, like a meteor in a mist^ or a tranI
stent aura of such philosophy as my experiences
have taught me, or a chance gleam of humor here
and there, like dew drops on a dandelion, why, I
suppose you will like it none the less
I am just liriiithwii front the perusal of Mrs
South wort It's wonderful book, ''The Deserted
Wife." WIihI a glorious dreamer she is, this fair
concuo)"tim of yours! Cool-headed and qtiickthoughted
as her own charming llrighty?unique
in her eloquence of speech and fancy, in her unfettered,
true-hearted, and world-clasping charity,
as her wild llsgar of the West reclaimed. My
head grows diiiy, and my heart faint, thinking of
the high genius and piquant originality of this
woman, conversing with her various and perfectly
sustained characters, looking through the diamond
lenses of her clear vision at life, its purposes, its
de-tiny.
Ilut is it true? Is affection, the sentiment, so
much the bond-slave of casualties?so like the
nursling of intuitive, tineipressod sympathy?as
the estrangement of ({agar and Sophie, the babyidol
and the girl-worshipper, would make us despairingly
believe? And is love, the passion, so
cruelly orphaned in this world, so completely at
he mercy of caprice, of circumHtancea, of erratic
fancy and uututoreil impulne, hh we would ehudderingly
own?looking at the dark hiatory ?.(
llagar* married aorrow*? No! a Ihouaaml time*
no! The gentle iioaoma which have pillowed our
head in infant aleep, received. a* a safe Oarcanet,
our precioua jewela of confidence, hope, tenderneaa
and a?rrow, (thu* it bad been with Hag>tr
and Sophie.) *e d? n"' (frow ranged from
hem?we mutl understand them?they are our*'
The key which unlocka their golden claapa, is it
not aafely garnered away in our own heart* in
nermoat chamber*? Are we not aure of hem
forever? J u*t a* we know that the hle**ed aun
ia nhitiing all ihe while, though black cloud* ol
anger or gray mists of diatruat do aometime* overahaduw
it.?joat a* liagar knrw Ihe glad, glad aolution
of her own life-problem when *he wrote
to Raymond?" Vour faith in me will *ave you
Raymond ; will make you whole, will redeem you,
will bring you back."
And loir. It ia not a mad chance ; only a fearful
infatuation , only a aimilarity of apiritual
atructure, coaxed, cheated by habitual intimacy
into a fancied oneneau of aoul , an illuaion, to be
dissolved by the tranait of aome new planet, disaipaled
t>y the lotul tclipit of death
I know not rightly what it may be , but I ahould
any that it i* ihe manifeatation in time of our
deatiny for eternity, the recognition in human
heart* of the volition of f?od, electing them tor?
giving thein to?each other.
' What Uoil hath joined together" are the soleinu
and inapiring word* of Scripture. Can any
one eerioualy beliave that they refer to the mere
eiternal ceremonial which I* conventionally aaid
to " consecrate" the union of pure heart*? Oh !
no, for it I* loir which nanciifir* the marriage
vow* , love, the "inward apiritual grace," which
give* to the outward vi*ible sign all it* sacrednee*
dignity, and value.
Thiu ennobled, ihu* oonsecrated, marriage Indeed
become* a holy sacrament, awful in this life
with mystery and the shadow* that fall earthward
from the lifted pinion* of Hope hut for the life
which 1* to come, " full of grace and truth "
Hut these are high theme* for a lay-sister in
the great cloister of life. I'erhap* I have gone
beyond *' my branch of the subject," ua the eldest
Miss Spenlow would aay i
I won!.I like to rea<l a story from Mrs Southworth's
I'm. of a truly Christian hero?suffer- ,
ing striving. conquering. tuvr "overcome of evil,
hut overcoming evil with good one indulgent
towards others, ami consistent with himself, who. [
if his heart happened to have heen an arsenal of ;
deadly steel, or a magazine of ready explosives
yet held the key in his own keeping?subject to j
orders from nhw?and w ho had traced over the 1
iron doorway, in letters of silver, this writing? I
" Holiness to the Lord!"
Will you do it, sweet lady? Gifted woman,
magnificent syhil that you are! Will you strike
that troubadour's harp of yours to the grand story
of some CW C<iPij^<nlor on the field of Christian
w ir f " Carapeador nlrrri^i?Campeador not
through his own strength, but through his great
faith, his warm love, and his soul-felt acknowledgment
that these elements of conquest are not
his own. but lent him, w ith usury, from Heaven '
And, uot with more adiuXMUou pv rati pa?for J
th.it amy he ?but with more hopeful- I
ness au<l higher joy.w? wan \utur yxraior \ut i
noble tank
" I'etenniatd, ilaml, *n t done;"
and grow better for the example, and stronger j
for the annotation
I have visited Mrs South worth with so long a
iitfu-ttity that time is only left for my parting
ourtwir to the liditor of the Km, and my grnteful
adieus to those who have accompanied me
with friendly patience until now
Respectfully, yours, II. C.I 1
HITTER TO J. CLKXEM PROM t P\('T0RV
OPERATIVE.
Stark Mills, Manchester, N.H.,
Ptbmary 1W, IS,10.
Sir: The interrogatories contained in yotir
famous letter, addressed to '/. S. Wallingford, of
Hover, in this State, respecting the condition of
the factory operatives at the North or "slaves,"
as you in the ardor of your gallant patriotism are
pleased to call them, have hpen fully and fairly
answered through the medium of the public journals.
That these several answers to your inter- (
rogatories contain somethhig more to your purthan
unmeaning eurogies upon the moral
and intellectual culture of our laborers is a fact. '
which we trust you will have the fraukness to
acknowledge
If, sir. you are not bliuded by the influence of
deep-rooted prejudice, or infatuated by the im- |
pulse of a morbid ambition, matured nnd brought 1
into action by a misguided zeal in your <Harts to
bolster up and perpetuate the accursed system of
Southern slavery, at the expense of all that is s?- i
cred and hallow, d in the name of liberty, you i
! cannot but discover that the legitimate tendency <
j of your interrogatories and the answers resulting
from them has been to render your position a pe|
culiarly unfortunate one in the estimation of an
i enlightened public?a position which must be a*
j mortifying to your constituents, as it is dishonorl
able to yourself, as the representative of a tree
I people in the higher brunch of our National
Legislature.
Had the shafts of your hitter contumely been
hurled at those of your own sex, in your ignorance
of their true condition, you might be led
to suppose occupied the degrading position of
"slaves," there would have been for you aome
plausible excuse?some apparent ground of justification
for the extravagant and unqualified assertions
involved in your invidious comparison of
the condition of the factory operatives of the
North with the "black slavery" of the South
Hut let me remind you, sir, of the fact, that of
those "day laborers" to whom you allude as a
class, as being subjected to a " horrid tyranny,
compared with which the Southern slave is h ippy
indeed," seven-tenths of them are females?New
Ktigl.ind females?educated from early childhood
in the school of liberty, and having learned the lessons,
and imbibed all the principles of a just
equality, t!*y acknowledged no man as a "taskmaster."
Possessing sll the elements of a laudable
independence, they scorn the tyrant, and despise
slavery iu all its horrid and complicated
forms, as beiug the "llpas of the moral world,
under whose pestiferous shale nil intellect
languishes, and all virtue dies." You say,
sir, you allude to the Northern laborers in a
spirit of commiseration, and that you meant nothing
harsh or unkind to them. We thank you
kindly, sir. for this exercise of your generous
sympathy, not your influence iu alleviating our
condition. We are the arbiters of our own tortunes;
our time is our own, and what we acquire
by honest industry we claim. hii-I feel jierteotly
happy and contented in the sphere in which an
all-wise and gracious Providence has called us to
move and act.
Rather let your commiseration be lavished on
those poor, itnfortunate, down-trodden beings
which make up a part of your constituency, ami
who are now withering ami groaning under the
lash of cruel and relent leas task-masters. If your
commiseration for us has resulted in tears, let
them tlow in a channel hrouil and deep at the liase
of the altar of slavery, until they shall form a
mighty cataract, effectually undermining the disgraceful
fabric reared in blood and tears, and
baptized with the immolation of human victims
Were we, in fact, the poor, miserable, degraded
beings which your deluded fancy has pictured us
to be, and which your fervid imagination leads
you to believe we are, we might well deserve your
sympathy. If, sir, in point of native talent, education,
moral virtue, integrity of purpose, refinement,
of sentiment, to say nothing of personal attractions,
if in all that serves to constitute the
sum total of female accomplishments, the female
operative in New Kngiand will not bear a comparison
with your wives and daughters of the
.South and West, then most assuredly we have
not yet been so fortunate as to behold a specimen
of your first quality; yet. we have seen Southern
ladies whose pretensions would lead us to believe
that they were richly entitled to all the claims of
superiority.
For seven years in succession, I have been an
operative in the Stark Mills Cloth Room During
this period, three of my most intimate friends
and companions, operatives in the mills, have, by
a prudent husbandry of their time, and the improvement
of their leisure hours, acquired an education
competent to their becoming teachers in
any of our high schools, and are now reaping the
reward of our laudable efforts in the cultivation
of their minds, in the capacity of governesses and
teachers in private families in Southern cities.
Nor would we have you regard these as solitary
instances of self-educated females employed in
our mills, hundreds go from our manufacturing
villages yearly to the South and West, as teachers,
and are encouraged so to do hy Christians
sod philanthropists as being preeminent, not for
their beaut v alone, for this dwells only ill the
lustre of 11 well cultivated iiiiud, hut for their
moral, religious arel scientific attainment* You
will t?e ready, air, I think, to aduiit that my experience
as an operative, in the department in
which I am engaged, muat, in a meaaure at least,
qualify me to judge with acme degree of correct- l
ness, as to the moral and physical condition of the
operatives in our nulls, and having become thoroughly
acquainted with factory life in nil itn
various phases, you will allow me, in candor, to
state, that, so far as I am qualified to judge, in
point of general intelligence, and in all that pertains
to moral virtue and cheerfulness of disposition
ns u class, they would not sutler in comparison
with any other class of men and women
within the circumference of the world. And that
I may he sustained in my assertions, you have
only to visit our mills (Jo into any or all of the
different apartments of labor in the mills, and
you will not only lie greeted with bright eyes and
smiling faces, hut you will oteerve that neatness,
order and the utmost circumspection prevail, and
my word for it, sir, your ears will not ho pained
with words of crimination and recrimination, nor i
with loud and boisterous fault finding; hut on the '
contrary, you will find the utmost courtesy, nut- j
to il gistd feeling, arid a scrupulous regard for
each other s interests, universally prevailing
Should you visit us, you will find us busily engaged
in our usual avocations, nor do we wish to
di?gui-e the fact, that we are the ' sons and
daughters of toil," nor do we, from the fsct that
we tire such, require your sympathy We have 1
been educated from infancy in the huhit* of industry,
and thus we have learned to discover in
honest labor, free labor, if you like the terin bet- j
ter, a dignity which, in our view, makes even toil |
itself an intrinsic virtue. It may literally he said
of us that '' we earn our bread by the sweat of our i
brow," hut sir, this renders it not the less palatuhie
And, ns you have pertinently asked the question,
" what is the kind and quality of food we
consume? ' we answered simply that we did " not
live on bread alone," and living in the enjoyment
of excellent health, a good conscience, and a keen
appetite, we leave you to draw your own inference
in res|?eot to the quantity we should be likely to
consume. There are various sources, too, from
which we derive nutriment, for the mind ns well
us the body. We are oouslant in our attendance 1
on public worship Mont of us are teachers or
ttcbo1.tr* in the Sabbath school We nine hare
access to extensive libraries. and enjoy the pleasure
of listening weekly to popular lecture* before
the lvceutn. and in addition to many other
sources of information, we tike -the papers."
write for them occasionally, read political speeches.
and censure or applaud as we please, the efforts
of our public servants jr. Congress. as their politi
cal principles do or do not comport with our i<! as
of right or wrong. and when stigmatized
slaves, we take on honest pride in hurliue lutck
the vile slander into the very fuee and eyes of the
man who dares to tiller it My dear sir. you
have undertaken an Herculean task, if you thin':
to fasten on the Yankee girls the npprohious epithets
of "slaves." by anycompirison which you
can conjure up or dream of in your philosophy.
I close with an invitation for you to visit ns as
time and circumstances may suit your convenience
We should he hapgy to wyou. And should \yoi
come among us. as you behold us in the prosecu
>IUU VI WUt U?U< M UlltUK, lev % ut ?>< >? ui < >*?
mantle jour chveks, that in your ignorance of our true
condition, in your place in the Senate Chamber
of the United State* it was left for yon to
apply to us the lnathinr and disgraceful epithet*
attached to slavery in any of it* form*.
Yours. Ate., Nam v P. (Iicai.kv.
llj't J. rirtrioii, *V ' m :.
FREEDOM TO IMISTElim
To ih' Kilt'or of lit? National Era:
Dm; Sir In looking over the sp-ei he* tl,,
have been delivered during the presfot session ( i
Congress. I ant happy to discover a professed <ii
position on the part of all to '-stand by the forstitution."
Perhuf>s there is no clas* of speak-r
who have dwelled longer or piped louder up< u
this topic than the propagandists of slavery. Iv
the term " propagandists of slavery. I mean the
whole compromising host. To this clissof speak
ers. I beg the leave of submitting through y< ur
crowded columns a few particulars
First for what was the Constitution framed '
Verily, you say. go to the preamble, that i* the
pvnouent of those irinciules for the protection i
which thin "supreme law of ihe land w?? orand
established. Well, in consulting said *
preamble, I am led by the exercise of my 1'r?i!
powers of resisou to conclude that there ore a
number of clauses there whiyh come in fearful
contiiet with the pcrpetuttrr-f *y compromise'trl
otherwise, of the " peculiar institutionone only
of which shall burden your attention at this time.
'Tin this " We, the people of the United Statein
order to secure the blessings of mhkkty to our
selves and uonr po.mofi/," do ordain and est able h
this Constitution for the United States of Ameii
os." This clause makes ^ till yo\ttri'y's (t> ;
therefore all who acknowledge the supremacy ol'
the Constitution must give their " posti nh, lr. e
dom. Now then it is a notorious fict, conceded
by all, that many, very many of American slaware
mulattors, not negroes Whence came this
white blood that courses through their vciiis '
\nswer this ye who would -'stand by the Constitution,"
ye who daily ga/e upon their bleeding
backs and sweating brows, ye who of a truth do
know Answer this, mut htvxh tor thnm-.
It is said of old. "that a word to the wise is
sufficient," and at present, we pursue our theme
no farther than to add the prayer, that, during
the adjournment of Congress, the Secretary of
State, accompanied with Senators and Represent
atives, will take his travels Southw ml, well sup
plied with "preambles," and find bow many wh >
now taste "unrequited toil" by virtue of tint
preamble, arc freemen; and then in the second
session of t he Thirty-First Congress, show, he by
his ollicisl influence, and they by their votes, th at
tkeir respect for the Constitution is not nil ;
fusion, but that facts. Constitution, and con
science, win work a noble work
A. H Had
NlW Lyme, Ohio, Stfit. 2'l, 1850.
Nparia, Ranhoui'ii Co,, Inn, Srpt i, In.'.o,
To tlf Kilitor of tin National Km:
l?i ah Sim :?Although this section of country
is nut little known, and consequentiy koiiiuis 1.
little attention abroad, yet it is somewhat important
in an anti-slavery point of view, being tin*
most sunt born niirt of the State where there is
tiny anti-slavery organization, or indeed. any
anti-slavery IVt>liii|r in (hat respect. almost like an
Oasis in the desert. If wan partially nettled near
thirty yearn ago hy emigrants rnostlv <>f the
Associate Keformed Presbyterian, and Reformed
Presbyterian denominatietis Irani Newliery, Fsittield,
and Chester dislriotn, South Carolina, who
tied from the prison-house of Southern bondage
to escape the evils of slavery This population
has hern augmented from time to time hy accessions
from New England, New York, Pennsylvania,
Ohio, and a trw front some of the other
States, and of late years a very respectable and
steadily increasing emigration from Scotland
True to the old proverb, "birds of a feather llock
together." A large majority are still anti-slavery,
the free-noilern polling doable the number of votes
of all others in this precinct For intelligence,
morality, and religion, this vicinity will compare
favorably with any portion of the country East or
West, Within a circle of twelve or fourteen
miles each way from this place there are no less
than sixteen churches, one or two in progress of
erection, mostly large, valuable brick edifices,
the most of Ihctn belonging to the different Presbyterian
denominations, with some to Methodists
and liaptists
l!y a statement in the rule of three, your
readers will be able to tell, or at least to come
near enough to the number of school-houses in
lie same hounds, as I believe they will generally
ie found to be in proportion to each other. 8011th rn
Illinois is sometimes called Egypt. the name.
i? we lire told by Home, originating in the fact of
lie far-famed American bottom being ho producivo
of corn, ;in<l for many years furnishing the
nore northern parts of the Slate, in times of
icnrclty, with that very necessary article?by
ithem, originating from the intellectual darkness
ind rather henighteil Htate of the inhabitant*
We hare no objection to the name, from whatever
t may have written ; but you will recollect, there
was a Goshen in Kgypt, and we would suggest
whether this he not the place. Sparta in in the
Northeastern part of the country, forty-five
mi leu from St. Louis, ami .sixteen miles from
theater, on the Mit-sissippi, to which a turnpike
road is contemplated, in surrounded by n fertile
ind flourishing country, many gooti firms with
iiibstantial am) oomfortahle houses and barns, n
goodly number of tine orchards; some of the finest
teaches in the United States are raised in this
rioinity Two newspaper* are published here,
(tie free soil, the SjmiiIii Eiwiuih, edited ami pubished
hy J. N, Coleman, Ih ably and tastefully
londucted, and is exercising a healthful influence
>n the liternry, moral, and anti-slavery sentiments
if the community. A large number of new majors
and periodical* from a distance tire taken
lere?among newspapers 7*//' National Era and
Hnturilai/ l isit'r come in for a large share.
The village, hy the eenstis just taken, numbers
17.*? inhabitants has six stores, two apothecaries,
mil no groennnt. There is more business done
jere than in arty place of i?* sire I have ever been
ici|iiainted with Ksst or West There are a conliderahle
number of mechanics of which, however,
there is great lack in most branches There
ire two churches in the place one A It i'resby.
terian, end one Methodist, with others nt no inJOnvenient
distance a steam saw ami flouring
mill, and an additional one projected to be of
large capacity.
An excellent steam-power-loom woollen factory
lias gone into operation this season. Persons
rrorn Nleubenville and I lay ton. Ohio, who have
visited this place, consider it a good location for
manufacturing from the abundance and cheapnesa
of coal, which is supplied lit present from
pits a mile uri'l n hftlf <iin>unt. They lire some
Lwenty-llve feet deep, the cuftl seven feet in thick
nee# it i< raised to the surface by horse power,
Mid is of eicellent (|iiality. Home of the bent
|udges Hre of opinion tliat, taking into consi lenlion
the ooitt of dams, the loss of time by freezing,
t>y high uml low water, that where fuel is so cheap
ih here, that steam is, on the whole, a more profitable
power than water. The cheapness of provisions,
the low price of wood, uud the opportunity
which tho surrounding country presents for dinpotting
of goods of the heavier kinds, it in thought
will be favorable to thin place ax a manufacturing
point. The health in an good here ax in moat
parts of the West. The uae of bituminoua coal
ia thought by medical men to be in tutiie measure
an antidote to fevers and other di*ea?es to which
portions of the West are subject Last winter,
some .'>00,000 lbs of pork, worth $i per 100 lbs,
were salted here, and I "J,000 gallons of castor oil,
made, worth $ 1.80 per gallon. The eastor ho in
is more eitensively raised in this vicinity than
in any other part of the country; it is ensy of
production, not more dillioult than corn, and iH
cultivated much after the same manner. It generally
pays the producer well, the average yield

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