Newspaper Page Text
SU* W**klu iftniott.
.'(•iwoUjÆai««/. MO J. I*. M'GUIGAN, Editor* FüBLISHFÎJ F.VBRY FlitUA* MÖÄKtifd AT Qeergeioten, Dfilucnatt TEfcMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: ixe CopV, dNr r K ah, (payment invariably Hit ia*i *1 M in advance,) » • - )kb c'drV payment at the üiOse of the year, Fon a Ottfe or im conns to one address, 1ft 00 ÎWRNTT copies to one adjircas, payment in advance as above, Ttao above ratea will be carried out for larger will send a copy of the year to the getter up of a olab 2 00 clubs, mid in addition paper gratis for oftifty.. „ Ju. $be Qott fi ®orn*r. TT [ Written for the Union,] Qfi AURA. By .Delaware. Dark the dajr, and chill the rain aSwraps in «howars aoro«a the plain, Black the night is closing round, O'er tho sullen, wintry ground. Boreas cortos on rolling our, Loud proclaims a diror war, Rivers rush, and forosta moan In a solemn uudbrtone. Where art thou lair Aur*? say— llcarcst thou the stormy ddy? Ah no storm shall ever moro, t Rolling from the Northern shore, Wake thy slumber deep and still, In the durk tombs, bine and ohill; Spring shall oome, and ilowers shall bloom daily o'er thy mournful tomb, Zephyrs bend the long grass low, Phoebus shine with milder glow. . .Summer spread luxuriant o'er, Cynthia shino as ne'er before; Autumn turn to sadness all, Forest, mountain, field and mall ; Idiot winter old and stern Wrap in sn*w thy funeral urn, llowl along the durkened sky, On black wings in tempests tty,— Yet thy sleep shall silent be, storm shall waken tbee. Milton , Del., Moo. 18<A, 1863. Sun, LOST IN THE ICY SEA. Whéfc sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old Borrow wakes and ones. For I know there is dawn ix tho far, far north, And a scarlet sun doth riie; Like a scarlet fleece the snow field spreads, And tho icy founts run free, And the bergs begin to bow their heads, And plunge and sail in tho sea. , own love, <Ok, my lp8t love, and my And my love that loved mo so ! In tlutfo never a chinck in tho world above Where they listen for words below? Nay, I spoke wnoo, and 1 grieved theo sore, I remember all that I said, And now tbou wilt hear Till the sea gives up her dead. moro, no moro, the ship, and sail Thou didst set thy foot To the ice-fields and the snow; Thou wert sad, for thy love did naught avail, And tho tnd I could not know How could I tell I should love thee to-day, Whom that day 1 hold not dour? How could I know I should lovo thoo away, I did not love the anear ? We .bail »»Ik more 'trough the sodden plain With tbo f.ded D.' nts °,'' r, P r " ul > . . by the seething main : ves o'er head, nd and the rain, Wo stall stand so more While the hock vraek dr< • We shall part no more in the Whore thy last farewell was aai\ a > . But perhaps I shall meet and know w. llCC u ß aul * gives up hor dead. When tho Sale. I Sale. MILLIE LEE. JIV CLEMENT F. HABE. "There," said a iriend to me one day, a heroine." I looked around, 4 there goes . , , . . but seeing only a little girl trudging bare foot along the road, with a basket almost as large as herself. I turned my eye with a glance of inquiry to the hptaker. He answered it by pointing to the unromantic .I mean her, Mil bject just described, lie Lee. You think she is only a poor, shoeless, stockingless oliild ; but I tell you she is a heroine with a nobler heart than «ver beat in the bosom of Joan d'Arc, or Margaret d'Anjou." My friend was not accustomed to talk at random ; hence my cliriosity was excited and I drew from him, as we sat in the shade to rest, the story of Millie Lee. " Five years ago there came to our vil lage a laborer named Robert Lee. He was idle and intemperate, his wife feeble and heart-broken, their children so pale, so hungry, and so siokly-looking, that it made my ''heart ache to see them. They had been beneath the shadow of a father's gleet—a mother's hot tears hud fallen on their faces as they drew nourishment fnm her breast, and lay upoh her breaking heart. Ilow could they he like other children? On the desert shrub, every leaf tells by its permature searness, of the arid sand in which the root is withering. Hence those children never played or smiled. They crept about so still and sad _they ate their hard dry crusts with such a melancholy look, that you would have, thought their home must have been a house of death. And so it was. Their father would lie for hours as one doad !—dead to all the beauties of nature, to the activities of the world, to all the claims and suffer ings at his family, to all the nobility of the nature that he was horning to a cinder of everlasting remorse with the fires of rum. Often have I accosted those children, crouching together by the door of their wretched home, and tried to draw from them a smile ; I gave them food when I knew that they were very hungry, and they would thank me sweetly ; but not a gleam of sunshine would pass over their faces. They were grateful but could not Ü ne *"We tried to do something for his fami ly but the wretched father would not let anv of them leave him, and would squan der for rum, or destroy for spirits whatever ve them. He had a great deal ol kindness ■we maualin independence, and he scornfully refused as an officious inter férence with his a flairs. Hence we could only carry food to his starving wife and children when he was at the dram-shop. " At last Mrs. Lee died. Never saw I such a scene before, and Ged in mercy from ever witnessing the like aga Lee was rolling on the floor, too drunk understand what was going on, or even to rise. But hiB tongue was loose, and he aooompanied the groans of h s wife, and s of his children, with suatohes of ribald songs and curves that made my blood curdle in piy veins! " 1 need not dwell iipon the funeral. We managed to keep Lee sober until ills poor wife was under the ground. But he »•anted to hava little feeling ; ha went to in! save me to the ü. Hv *à a)ê ï **:*<" <► 0 É ; U a A <$> -v VOL. I. GEORGETOWN, DEL., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1803. NO. 12. thcN'hureh and to the grave like a man stunned or in a dream. We left the fam ily at night with everything nice usury fur their comfort, intending to find homes for the childrep the next day. "In the morning, having made our ar rangements, we went early to the cabin. We heard, as we approached, a diveord of mingled curses, screams and blows. We entered and there was Lee, in a drunken rage, with the poker in his hand. He had driven the children into a corner, and before the younger ones stood Millie; covering them as a hou cov ers her brood, nnd meeting the eye of her father with such a look of reproach and sadness that, demon as he was, he quail ed beneath it. After we had gone away thenightbofore, the wretched man had sto len out to one of those dons where they would sell rum to a grinning skeleton if it only had three cents in its hand. There pawn ing the clothes that had been given him for the funeral, he prepared himself for the scene we witnessed. " Having disarmed him, and released the trembling orphans, we insisted upon taking them all away. Millie said wc might take Sallic and Georgie and the baby, but she would stay; for since her mother was dead, there was no one else to look after her father. "But, Millie, he will beat you; he will kill you !'* ' " Maybe he will, sir," she answered, "but yet I must not leave him. He gets drunk, I know and then he is cross; but still—ho is ifiy father." " I looked with wouder on that feeble child. I thought of all she had suffered from that brutal man, who never smiled even ou her childish prattle; I thought of all she had yet to fear from him, alone in that cabin, and I felt that no recorded in stance of female heroism exceeded hers. Wc-reasoned and we plead, but Millie was firm. Wc were obliged to leave her, though with many sad forebodings. " We heard nothing from her until the next day. When she ran up to see tho baby, which was at my house, I asked her: " Dow are you getting on at home now, Millie?" "Pretty well, I thank you," washer re ply. "Did your father get drunk last night?" She tried to keep back the tears as she auswered : " He came home very ■ Tna iic uuai yuu, nil "Oi'i not Jmlc h' He only struck me twice "an.J otree it was with nothing but his hand." . . „ T U And the otter time ?—yes, I see it made cross, sir. une :• and fall and U And the otter time ?—yes, I see it w... w,'Ji the poker, and he made a deep ■ -heail! You must not stay gash in y oui *•'»**" there Millie." t me muoh and "Oh, sir, it did not Hu. _ when he saw the blood it seen."" . ^ , little, aud he threw down the and told mo to tie up my face and go to' bed. Aud after I was iu bed he sat by the fire and muttered to himself, and I thought, by what 1 heard, that he felt sor ry because he struck me ; and I don't think that he will do so again." " Poor, patient, lovely, hopeful Millie ! She kissed the baby, and hurried back to get supper for her father. " That night I was out late. I returned by Lee's cabin about eleven o'clock, approached, I saw a strange looking objeot under the low eaves. A cold falling. It was late in autumn. I drew near, and there was Millie asleep, Her father had driven her out somd'hours before ; she had laid down to listen for the heavy snoring of his drunken sluinbers, so that she might But before she heard him As I cowering raiu was wot to the skin. of of creep back to bed. it, nature beoarnc exhausted, and she fell into a troubled sleep, with the rain drops lattering on her. I tried to take hor lome with me, but no ; true as a martyr his faith, she struggled from my and returned to the now dart anil cabin. Things went on so for weeks and months. But at length Lee became less violent, even in his drunken fits, to his self-denying child ; and one day when he awoke from a heavy slumber after a de bauch, and found her preparing breakfast for him, and singing a sweet childish song, he turned to her, and with a tone almost tender, said : " Millie, what makes you stay with me?" " Because you aro my father, aod I love urms silent to I you." You love me !" repeated the wretched "love me!'' He looked at hisbloatr ed clothes. - " Millie, man; ed limbs, his soiled and ragge " Love me," he still murmured, what makes you love me ? I am a poor drunkard ! everybody else despises me. Why don't you ?" " Dear father," said the little girl, with éwimming eyes, " mother taught me to love you ; and every night she comes from heaven and stands by my little bed, and says, !' Millie, don't leave your father ; Millie, love your father, he will get away from that Rum Fiend one of these days, and then how happy you will be." « Lee buried bis head in his hands, and tears, the first for a long time, trickled through his fingers. He said but having eaten bis breakfast, he went That night he came home sober— the first time for many years. He gave her a dollar that he had earned, and talked with her kindly until it was time to go to bed. I to he my ills he to no more out to "Oh! how'bright and glad was the heart of Millie Lee ! For hours she lay awake and wept for joy. After she fell asleep, the angdls came to her in dreum ; and oh ! how sweetly her mother smiled. Next morning she exerted her childish skill to prepare u nice breakfast for her father. She sung and prattled with a light heart, l a edness she had never known before ; and Lee gazed with something like a parent's pride and fondness on her. He went out to his work, and at night—late at night, after the pour little child had waited for long, long hours—he reeled home drunk. Oh! what a bitter disappointment! It ulmost crushed her. But the angel came again and whispered, 1 Courage—love never faileth—hope never faileth '—and that night she was repaid by the early return of her father in his right mind. " We learned afterwards that the rum seller, when Lee tried to reform, would waylay him coming from hig work and en tice him back to the den of death. If the tempter found him, he would yield and fall. 1 Otherwise he would come home a sober man—a kind father to his mother less and loving child. Her patience and cheerfulness were unsealing the fountains of his heart, and had there been no human spider to thread a snare for his feet, he would then have been restored. But alas ! ever and anon the meshes were too skill fully woven and too strong." " And is he still a drunkard ?" I asked. " Wait a moment—my tale is nearly told. Millie heard one day of Mr. Dar land, tho eloquent reformed drunkard, of Westville. At once she concluded that she could save her father. So, without a word to any one, she set out, as soon as her father had gone to work, and walked the whole six miles to Westville. She sought out the lecturer, and told him her artless, touching story. He came back with her. and took his seat in the cabin, and sent Millie to bring her father from his work. Mr. Darlaud knew how to ac cost him, how to encourage him, for he had gone through the same fiery ordeal and fully conquered the appetite for While the Washingtonian and tho drunk ard talked, Millie listened and prayed. She thought she heard the rustling of an an gel's wing in the cabin, and as the Bun beams played upon the walls, she imagined it was her mother's smile of love and hope ! That night her father signed the pledge, and by the help of kind friends, he has kept it to this day. " It is now six months from that mem orable night, and though they live in the same cabin still, and are poor, there is not a happier home in all the place, nor a hap pier, nobler heart, than beats in the breast of little Millie Lee. What do you think now of my heroine ?" I answered! '' She's an angel 1 and as I touted „t the dolirnte child carrying her basket along the dusty road, I thought how many an embryo cherub may be trudging along the paths of human poverty and scorn, and how we shall wonder at the reverlutions yet to be, when tho tinsel shall fall from the false greatness of the earth, and its true nobility shall rise to shine for ever in the holy light of Heaven. „ In $li$f*Unntau 0 . STIRRING APPEAL T# ftiî ? wlE ARKANSAS. The Submission of a Prominent ^ e ' 5e ' Address of Hon. E. W. Gantt, di the Rebel Congress. DAVIS FLAYED ALIVE. Tht Rebellion Conquered,—The last man in the field.—Submission no mote humiliating than surrender.—An eloquent appeal to re turn to the Union. E. IV. Gantt, elected to the National Con gress in I860; subsequently of tho Rebel Congress, and still later a Rebel General, has issued an address to the people of Ar kansas, dated Little Rook, October 7, 1863. The fore part of it is devoted to the local poli tics of Arkansas. That we omit for the sake of placing before the public in full that part of it relating to the great question of the toration of the Union, the defeat of the Re bellion, and his eloquent appeal to the South people to abandon their useless war. We commence our extract ot a point where Mr. Gantt does fall justice to tho scheming head of the conspiracy JcCferuon Uavl«. raa This gentleman lias proven himself totally With the whole unsuited to the emergency, cotton crop and wealth of tho South at his disposal, aud the friendship of many European Powers, he has accomplished nothing abroad. His foreign policy has been a stupid failure' He has permitted himself to be overreached and out-managed iu everything, liis policy at home, while proving him to be strong in some respects, has shown him to be weak, mean aud malignant in others. He is cold, selfish, aud supremely ambitious. And un der the cover of outward sanctity and patriot ism flows concealed the strongest vein of hy pocrisy and demagogism. He has never been up to the magnitude of the undertaking. Ho refused troops for the war in May A. D. 1801, because he did not " know that they would be noeded. His idea at first seems to have been that hostili ties would soon cease, and he bent his energies for a cheap war. His preperations aud outfit were accordingly contracted and parsumo noius. Awokoned to a sense vf his error, his next aim seems to have been to conquer liis foes and put down every man that had crossed his pathway in liie. The latter suc cess at all event*, Instances of this aro nu merous ; but that of Senator Brown, the peer of Mr. Davis iu everything, hissuporior in many and his rival, and suçcesful competitor for the United States Senate, is pointed. He joined a company in Davis' army mid was I cdaeWd captai». Hs had capacity for any I to ; to the lay fell ; position. Yet Mr. Davij, not lucking to the public interost, but to tl own private feelings, s to strike an old rival, ai refused him in nil promhion, and left him the alternative of wearing h inself out as captain of a company, or seekin position elswherc. Mr. Brown's election to. he Confederate Sen ate terminated the mati r. He drove General rustavus W. Smith from the army. He w. onco ready to re move "Stonewall" Jac sou, and only the success of the latter, ba ted by a powerful and excited party, prei pled it. He ovor slnuhed and oppressed leauregard. because he let the people know' \h*l move on Washington at of' Manassas fight and was plcvcnted by Davis. He drove Gen. Walker, oftieurgia, out of the servico. He refained Hidman in Arkansas, with a positive knowlede of his outrages. He removed him but to iiiirsehis acts. Ho retains Hühners here to gk'tify tho Johnsons at tho ruin of our people. lie has pursued and oppressed Gen. Price, «cause, I suppose, the latter was made a Brjadier in Mexico und Davis was not. He rmilK'd Pemberton in command against the wihos of the army and the country, and, to ad insult to it all, sends him to Mobile to tub command where just of to : gratification of his » this opportunity ( ombraces it. He t he desired the o after tho first he is execrated by every aan, woman and child. By a trick and . swindle ho got General J. E. Johnston avay from his com mand in Virginia, and gvo him no other definite position until thee was a pressing omnrgancy. nnd a cJ*anja to damage him t thereby showiug both his umfidence in him and his malignity towards him. He drove Gen. Pike out of the arm) to gratify Hind man and tho Johuson's, aid thereby lost to the whole Indian county, and if the war continues, will place the tomahawk at the throats of women and clildren. us U8 and It the and inefficent cabinet, He retains a week aud and never calls them in a^uncil, that he may people. He reign as sole despot ovir our has had at his disposal physical force enough to carry out acts the mos He has used mat force. He has arbitrary and up pressive. shown his selfishness and disregard for the interest of the people by his appointment of Hoath, Van Dorn, Dick Taylor, Davis and Mansfield Lovell, all relatives of his, and all alienated Ihe tho T cy to for " at alike incompetent. He tho Confedercy ackno^rU od to-day, Geor t »oaxxa in two y ears und op him. • i 1 6*" — I heard a Confederate General, of great prom inence, who understands the feeling i State, so declare. And as significant of this, Govener Brown, of Georgia, gave to General G. W. Smith, meanly aud spitefully driven out of the army by Davis, the Presidency of the Etowah Iron works, with a salary larger than hie salary as Lieutenant-General. IIo falsified all his promises to Kentucky, and took General Humphrey Marshall's command away from him, turning it over to his old political rival, General Preston, to gratify the partisan requirements of Kentucky citizens who had suddenly risen from the obscure position of pork-packers to that of Senators and Representatives in the Confederate Con „ re8g and jugglers in that political Sodom. In a word, - he has e nriolied nnd 1,onored his friends, rained a." d impoverished his enemies; has given over the pe^. 'hose of Arkansas especially, to plunder and oppression by b.s instance punished the ilit i \ favorites, and in no offender. I admit that in some things he looms up above other men, but he has so many defects and weaknesses beneath others that it reduces second-rate character. of him to a very poor never change him. His life His And you can has been warped by political intrigue, prejudices have been narrowed and his hates embittered by years of partisan strife. And had as well take the oak which has been y°w bent while a twig and beat upen by the storms of centuries, when its boughs are falling off and its trunk decaying, and at tempt to straighten it up towards heaven, as to attempt tho strightening of a character warped and bent by years of political storm and intrigue. What Shall We Do ? This question naturally comes up after all that has preceded. If Mr. Davis, when he held the lives and fortunes of many millions in his hands, so blundered as to lose his op we hope from him now of blackness, of anguish and dcs of I it many ysars. Etsn wkiU wt as* arrayed portunity, what that a scene dation reigns were wealth, h ppiness and plenty smilod ? If he wpuld not protect Ar kansas when he could, but instead gave itover to plunder and oppression by his pets, what have we to hope now that ho trembles in Richmond for his own safety, and wakes up at last to tho terrible reality of his folly, wcak and indiscretion ? If we were not pro ness tected when we could have been, and if we cannot now bo protected, what must we do? Some say oontinuo the struggle ?»let the last man die, Ac. I think differently. We ought to end tho struggle and submit. But yuu say it is hu miliating. No more than to surrender whon whipped. We have duno that often when we could do no better. I have tried the experiment twice and found it by no foolish. Submission is but surrender. We are fairly beaten in the whole result, and should at once surrender the point. lwaye means If we don't get the happiness we eftjoyed in the old Government, wc can get no more misery than we have folt under Jbffbrson Davis. But I look for peace there. We had m against it, I find that hostile forces i midst give more protection to citizens than they had when Holmes and Hindman hero. It is truo the Johnsons tell you that Genoral Steele has imprisoned and oppressed people here. Not a word of truth in it. And they know it is all false. In a few months, when no more Confederate money can he in vested, and nothing more be made out of the people, they will sneak back and claim his protection. But we are whipped ; fairly beaten. Our armies aro melting, and ruin approaches Will continuing this struggle help us ? Every bottle we might gaiu ought to wring tears from the hoerto or «v-., -- — just that much weaker, that much nearer our final ruin. Anguidh sorrow and desolation meet us wherever wc turn. Tho longer the struggle moro of it. Don't let yourselves bo deceived with the hope that the United States will abandon the struggle. They can never do it. They have toiled and spent too much to see tho solution of the problem, and not foot up the figures. They scarcely feel the war at home. Their cities aro more populous and thrifty to-day than ever. For every man who dies or gets killed in battle two emigrate to the country. Their villages and towns, their fields and country flourish as fresh as ever. They could sink their armies to-day, and raise new levies to cnish us and not feel it. How is it with ns? The last man is in the field. Half our territory ovorrun. Our cities gone to wreck, people alone by the aged, the lame and half ana women 'nm. u—~. while deserted towns nnd smoking ruins, and plantations abandoned and laid waste meet all sides, and anarehy and ruin, disap and discontent lower over all the in our us. us on pointment land! Foreign Intervention. You rely upon foreign intervention, and alas! Howmany lives, hope ■ and fortunes _, been buried under this fatal delusion ! It has held us on to a hopeless strugglo while the belt of desolation has girdled us closer, and the sea of anguish and sorrow rises higher, flushed with tho tears of ruined and France will not interfere. Alas have bereaved onos. Napoleon has at heart the building ot Louis tho transit route connecting the two oceaus. T ^mtrnkA»î^ i ka)^toJ^lS-- unt i 1 that iB cy on the ocean goes out before him, and the mercial world hecomes subsidiary to him. To keep up this stauggle he wili ae lude us continually with false hopes, recking nothing how much we bleed and suffer. I suspect the pretended loans to France rest upon a policy of this sort, and that he is at the bottom of it. But if Louis Napoleon does propose to in terfere and take us under his "protection," what then? Another Maximilian for us— for American ? " Forbid it my countrymen I ■rims H- III i \ an of for American ? " Forbid it my countrymen I Forbid it Heaven !" Our fathers threw off colonial dependence upon a European crowned head. It would be ignominious in us to go back a half century and more to accept what they freed us from , muoh less to risk a des pot over us. So eager are some of our leaders for this interference that I am told it is pro posed to give Napoleon Texas as a bonus for his good graces and his kindly aid 1 And the " Lone Star" may be handed over bv Davis at any moment, so far as he can do it. The thought ought to mako the blood of every citizen mount to his cheek. Whenever this is I attempted I shall be one to meot the logions of France, under the old flag, to battle for the saoredness and safety of tutions. But suppose ho offers recognition alone ? It is a barren offering. Supposo he offers it coupled with assistance? It too lato. republican insti comes Dissensions in the North. Have no hopes from a divided North. It is on the surface. Scarcely goes to the bottom of their politics, much less shaking tlio great of their determined people. Remem ber, too, that much of the South is with them. There is no division as far as fighting us is concerned. The mildest of them simply pro pose peace by reconstruction. That rejected, they are to press us with redoubled energy. Let us not, after all our misfortunes, construe the struggle between politicians for place into a sympathy for ourselves. But how could they propose peace? AVho would bring the mes sage ? To whom wuuld it be delivered ? And should the proposition be made and rejected that much worse off for it. We must propose peaco, for we ought to know when we have got enough of the thing. Negro Slavery. I am asked if Mr. Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation will stand. If you continue the struggle, certainly. He has the physical force at liis disposal to carry it out. If you cease now, you may save all in your hands, or com promise on graduul emancipation. But let, I beseech you, the negro no longer stand in the of the happiness and safety of friends and mass« s wo are way kindred. The changes of sentiment upon this ques tion in the South hava been curious. Not many years since it was by no means unusual for the press and public men, as well as for tho people generally in tho South, to concede that Slavery was an evil, and regret that it should ever have existed, expressing, however, disposition or desire to be rid of it. Yet, a few years more, the demand for cotton having increased, the price of negroes having ad vanced, and the agitation of the slavery ques tion having increased in virulence, finds us defending slavery ae a divine iaetitutioa D, no m Bow « Review, and other Southern papers and periodicals, with Senator Hammond, of South Carolina, wore prominent in this defense. Tboir object was to educate the Southern mind to this belief. Suoh a course has be come vital to the existence of slavery, because, to concede that negro slavery was morally wrong was virtually to concede the whole argument to the Abolitionists. As tho con troversy warmed we become sensitive, and morbidly so that tho North might have threat ened with impunity to deprive us of horses or othor property, yet the whole South would bo ablaze if some fanatic took so one negro. Such was the public sentiment South, at tha, bloody struggle. But revolutions shake up men's thoughts and put them in different channels. I have recently talked with South ern slaveholders from every State. They tired of negro slavery, and believo they could make moro clear money and live more peace ably without than with it. As for tho non slaveholders of the South, I honestly thought the struggle was for him more than for his wealthy neighbor. That to free the negro would reduce to comparative slavery the poor white man. I now regret that, instead of a I ; to sustain slavery, it had not been a struggle at the ballot box to colonize it. This will clearly be the next struggle. I am of opinion that whether it is a divine institution or not, negro slavery lias accom plished its mission here. A great mission it had. A new and fertile country had beeu discovered, and must be made useful. The ito tno mstrtv r.. >• development. Negro slavery was mont to effect this. It alono could open up the fertile and miasmatic regions of the South, solving the problem of their utility, which theorist could havo reachod. It was the magioian which suddenly revolutionized the of the world by tho solution of tluB problem. It peopled and mado opulent the barren hills of New England, and threw its the great North no commerce powerful influence west. Standing as a wall between the two sections it caught and rolled northward tho wealth and population of tho Old World ; and held in their placos tho restless adventures of New England, or turned them nlong tho great prai ries and valleys of the West Thus New « —i- 1 s»*l its climax, and the North west was overgrown on tsugo, wmic me oimtv. with Its negro laborers, was sparsely settled uml comparatively poor. Thus slavery uaa done its uttermost for New England and the Northwest, and was a weight upon the South. If, at this point, its disappearance could havo clearly commenoed, what urflold suffering and might have been avoided. Its existence hadbocumc incompatible with the existence of the Government. For, while it had stood as a wall, damming up the cur rent and holding back tho people and laborers of the North, it had, by thus producing free intercourse between tho seotions, produced a acroHS I ' marked change in their manners, customs and And the two sections wore grow sentiments, ing more divergent overy day. This wall the Government one must give way. shock came which was to settle the question. I thought that the Government was divided, and negro slavery established forever. I erred. The Government was stronger than slavery. Reunion is certain, but not more certain than the downfall of slavery. As I have said, the mission of the latter is accomplished. And be subordinated to that of the white the foot I or The his happiness must always man, he must, err long, depart brints of the rod man, whose mission being accomplished, is fast fading from our midst. While I think the mission of the negro is accomplished here, I am clearly of the opinion that the time will come when civilization and learning shall light up tho dark abodes of four hundred million people in India, and when their wants and necessities will put the patient and hardy negro to toiling and open ing up the great valley of the fertile but mi asmatic Amazon, But such speculations are out of place here. Let us, fellow citizens, endeavor to be calm, look these new ideas and uur novel position squarely in the face. We fought for negro slavery. We have lost. W e may have to do without it. The inconvenience will bo while. The loss heavy. This, however, is already well nigh accomplished. Yet, behind this dark cloud is a silver lining. If not for us, at least foreur children. In the place of these bondsmen will come an îm meuso influx of Jicople from all parts of the world, bringing with them their wealth, arts and improvements, and landing their talents and sinews to increase our aggregate wealth. Thrift and trade and a common destiny will bind us together. Machinery in the hills of Arkansas will reverberate to the music of machinery in New England, and the whirr of Georgia spindles will meet respousivo echoes upon tho slopes of the far off Pacific. Protective tariffs, if needed, will stetch in their influence from the Lakes to the Gulf, and from ocean to ocean, bearing alike, at last equally upon Arkansian aud Vermonter, and upon Georgian and California. Differ of section and scutimcnt will wear away and forgotton, and the next generation be bomogenious and united then any And descendante on Let us great for a cnee HiiK-e more the day of the Revolution, of these bloody things will read, with as much pride and a* littlcjealousy, of these battles of their fathers, as tho English and Scotch descendants of the heroes of Flodden Field read of their ancoetral acheivementin the glowing lines of tteolt, or as the deoendant* »h< Wmi* Kaiai. J> p - M'Wioan, Editor. rviunu iriiT r*i*à.r MOKimro at Georgfoun, U'iuwor^ TE»*« OF ADVJiKTISlNCi: "** »OWIIW, (lOlhMCAtlau) °**« &<1UA«| UriM innartod or square* Two Sqpaub., * 7 # month, «« month«, '"'•year, X Mi • U «9 ** *• three-fourth« or a whole «Siïï -5.^' 0 "' h * ] 6 lower rate«, and muât bo modo tkV b * ult <m « arrangement. ***>ieot of ipeoioi of highland and lowland chiefs, allusions , 0 their fathers' conflicts in the simple strains of the rustic Burns. Let us live in hope my grief-stricken broth ers, that the day is not far distant, when Ar kansas will rise from the ashes of her deso lation, to start on a path of higher destiny than with negro slavery, she ever could have reachod ; while tho rc-unitod Government, freed from this cankering sore, will be more vigorous and powerful, and more thrifty, opulent and happy then though the scourge of war had never desolated her fields, made sorrowful her hearthstones, quit hojujleae «truggTe.'^In?" prosperity will return. or ««r um«, and 52f>«wr vur day* of Why I lleiiltatcd—The Situation» The Remedy. I hesitated lung, my folloi^ citizens. before I determined tu issue this address. I dislike to be abused and slandered. But, more than all, dislike to live under a cloud with thosu friends who havo not yet reached my stand point, and, besides, all I possess is in tho Confederate linos. Their loadors will deprivo my family at slaves, home, property—debts due me—in a word, reduoe thorn from compe tence and ease to penury. Aside from what not pay for tho paper tlîi»' "a8üle#f u Vil written upon. But it may all go. Did I desiro future promotion, and could bring my conscience to it, I would do like the Johnsons, safe from bullets and hardships themselves, they assist in holding you on to this hopeless amt ruinous struggle, and at the end of the conttic, ..... ... ,.,, , 8ar ._• I B taid with yon to the last." "Honor me aim mine!" God deliver me from such traitors to humanity, aud to tho interests of our bleed ing people! To mo, the path of duty is plain. It is to lend my feeble aid to atop this useless effusion of blood. And though it beggar my family and leave mo no ray of hope for the future. I shall follow it. I have witnessed the desolation of tho Southern States from one end to the other. This hopeless etrugglo but widens it. Each day makes new graves, new orphans, and new mourners. Each hour flings into this dreadful whirlpool more of wrecked hopos, broken fortunes and anguished hearts. The rich havo mostly fallen. The poor l.ayo drunk deep of the cap of sorrow, while surely and not slowly, the tido of ruin, in its resist i cens toward the middle. cImwb. campaigns and they will torm part of the general wreck. Each grave and each tear, each wasted fortune and broken heart, puts up that much further off from tho object of the struggle, and that much further off from peace and happiness. Viewing it thus, the terrible question was presented to me, os to whether I should con tinue my lot in an enterprise so fruitless and so full of woe, and help hold the masses of to this terrible despotism of Da tt survo. F ew more the people on vis, whore the only ruin awaits them ; or whether I should be a quiet observer of it all, lastly, whether I should assiBt in saving tho remnant of you from the wreck. I have chosen the latter. I shall send this address to every hill and corner of State, to tho citizens and soldier, at home or prison, and shall send with it my prayers Almighty God to arrest them in their path way of blood and ruin. Why trust Davis any longer ? Had he twice our present resources he would fall. With success he would be a despot. But the whole thing is tumbling to pieces. Soldiers are loaving disgusted and disheartened, and whole States have gone back to their homes in the national galaxy. Maryland and Delaware will never again be shaken. Kentueky lias intrenched herself in tho Union behind a wall of bayonets in tho hands of her own sturdy sons. Missouri is as firmly sot in the national galaxy as Massa chusetts. Tennessee, tempost-tossed aud bolt-riven, under fho guidance of hor great pilot, steers for her old mooring, and will be safely anchored before the leaves fall ; while the rays of light from the old North State, flashing out fitfully from her darkuess across the troubled waves, show that she stirs, is uot lost, but is struggling to rejoin her sisters. None of these States will ever joui tho South again. Then, with crippled armies, with devastated fields, with desolate cities, disheartened soldiers, and worse than I T to with ■ ■ ■ all, with weak and corrupt leaders, what hope is left to the few remaining States, but especially to poor, oppreased aud down-trod den Arkansas? Nonul Better got our broth home while they are left Ui us. Open the way for tho return of husbands, father, and sonB, and bind up the broken links of the old Union. Tho people must act to do this. I tell you now, in grief and pain, that the leaders don't care for jour blood. Your sufferings move them not. The tears and wails or your anguished and bereaved fall on heart* of flint. While they can mate a dollar or wear an epaulet they'are content. Finally, with a grief stricken aud aorrowful heart, I implore mothers, sisters, wive, and daughters to assist, by all their arts, in saving their loved ones from this terrible scourge, ere ruin overtakes you and them irretrieva bly. While God gives me strength, daunted by no peril and swerved by no consideration of self, I shall give you my feeble aid. ones To break the force of those utterauc» hon estly, patriotically and sorrowfully made, ihe Johnsons and certain reptile« who crawl around little Rook, under Fedaral promo tion, together with nil other like men, who, Conflu&d on jounh poff. idLiil 0