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The star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, October 23, 1851, Image 1

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B. W. Weaver Proprietor.]
Is published every Thursday Morning, by
"OWTCife— up stairs in the New Brick building
on the south side of Main street, third
square bcluw Market.
Tr.RMi -.—Two Dollars per annum, if paid |
witljin six months frrm the time of subsoil ;
bing; two dollars and fifty cents if not paid ,
" within the year. No subscription received
for a less period than six months : no discon- I
tinuance permitted until all arrearages are
paid, unless at the option of the editors. i
ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding one square
will be inserted three times for one dollar,and j
twenty-flve cents for each additionl inser- \
tion. 4 liberal discount will be made to those
who advertise by the year.
RAINY and rough sets the day—
There's a heart beating for somebody ;
I must be up and away—
Somebody's anxious for somebody.
Thrice hath she been to the gate-
Thrice ha* she listened for somebody ;
'Midst the night, stormy and lite,
Somebody's waiting for somebody.
There'll be a comforting fire—
There'll be a welcome for somebody; j
One, in her neatest attire,
Will look to the table for somebody.
Though the star's fled from the west,
There is n star yet fot somebody,
Lighting the home he loves best—
Warming the bosom of somebody.
There'll be a coat over the chair
There'll be slippers for somebody ;
There'll bo a wife s tender care—
Love's fond embracement for somebody. ,
There'll be the "little one's" charm"—
Soon 'twill be awakened for somebody :
When I hare both in my arms,
Ob, but how blest will be somebody !
"Isn't she a glorious creature said my
young friend Merwyn, glancing-, as tie spoke,
toward a beautiful girl named Florine Mal
colm, the daughter of a merchant reputed lo
b rich. We were at a party, and the object of
remark ant, or rather reclined near us on a
eofa, with a graceful abandon, or rather in
dolence, in 'net whole air and attitude, that
indicated one bcrri and raised in idleness
and luxury;
"She is a fine looking girl, certainly," I
"Fine looking!" said my enthusiastic
' young friend, in surprise, half inclined lo be j
offended at the coldness with which I ex
pressed myself.
"Fine looking, indeed ? She's a perfect
Hebe; a very impersonation of youth and
"No one can deny that the is a very lovely
and beautiful girl,,' said I. to this. "But she
lacks animation."
"What you speak of as a fault, I consider
her greatest charm. I never met one so fre 0
from all vulgar hurry and excitement. An j
exquisilo ease distinguishes her actions, and ,
the reminds you, in nearly everything, of j
those oourtly ladies who give such a charm ,
to foreign aristocratic society. Certainly, 1 1
have not mot, in this country, with any ono
who hat so perfectly the air of a high-bred
lady as Florine Malcolm."
To understand this perfectly, the reader
must bo told that Merwyn had recently re-!
turned from a tour through Europe, whither !
he had been permitted to go by a woalty
father, and where ho had discovered, like
most of our young men who venture abroad,
that in our forms of special intercourse, nnd
Jr. all that gives fashionable society its trno
(excellence and attractiveness, we are sadly
deficient. Foreign manners, habits, nnd
drees were brought home and retained by
the young man, who, as a natural conse
quence, became a favorite among the ladies,
and was thus encouraged in his silly imita
tions of things anti-American, and, there
fore, in America ridiculous. In the eyes of:
sober-minded, sensible people, who did not j
know him well enough to see that there was j
a more substantial groundwork in his char
acter than all this would lead a casual obser
ver to infer, Merwyn was viewed as a mere J
fop, whose brains had grown out upon bis '
upper lip in the shape of a moustache.
Such a maitvwas my friend, Henry Mer
wyn. I knew his better qualities, and es
teemed them ; at the seme time that I saw
his weakness, and bore with them for the
cake of the good that was in him. He had
been raised in a sickly atmosphere, and his
mind had taken an unhealthy tone ; but ha
xvas honorable, and rigidly just in alt his ac
tions towards others.
As for the young lady he so warmly admi
red—Mice Florine Malcolm—l only knew
her as we know those into whose society
we are but occasionally thrown. She was a
fine, showy s> rl a f c e of more than
ordinary bendy; but, to or.e of my tastes,
uninteresting for tho very reason that she
proved so charming ic Merwyn. This gen
teel languor, this olegant indolence, this dis
tinguishing repose, never much suited my
fancy. I like lo see tho soul flow into the
bodily organiem, and thrill its very nerve
with life and sentiment. I like to see the
•ye burn, tho lips quiver, and the whole
face glow with animating thought. These
make beamy ten fold more beautiful; and
give to even paleness a charm.
"By a high-bred lady," I replied to Mer
wyn'* particular praise of Miss Malcolm,
"yoti mean, I presume, a woman who is en
"NO|" he quickly answered, "yoOt put n ]
oonstructionoo* my words that I do not ac
knowledge to be fair. By a high-bred lady, |
I mean one who possesses that peculiar ease
and grace, that exquisite repose, and that
charming elegance of manner that coroes
from n refined taste and long association
with those who move in the highest rank in
society. In fact, it is hard lo fix in words all
that goes to make up a well bred lady ; but,
wheu you meet her, you know her at a
"And you say Miss Malcolm comes near
er to the high-bred, courtly lady, than any
woman it has been your fortune to meet on
this side of the Atlanlio?"
"She does. In Paris os London she would
find herself at home iu the first circles of
fashion. Now, just look at Miss Watson,
who sits near her, bolt uptight, and stiff as a
poslj and then obserro how gracefully Flo
rine reclines on those cuthioes like a very
queen. There you have the exact difference •
between a mere vulgar girl, and a true lady." j
There was a difference between the two !
fndividuals thus referred to—a very marked
difference. Miss Watson looked like a girl
of thought and action, while the other repo
sed languidly among the cushions of a sofa,
the very picture of indolence.
"I see nothing vulgar about Miss Wa'.son,"
said I. "And I know that there is nothing
vulgar about her. She is a true lady in eve
ry sense of the word."
Merwyn half vexed me by his dissenting
Just then he observed rhat Miss Malcolm
looked pale. Going over quickly to where
she was, he inquired if he was not well,
and learned that some particular perfumo
used by a lady who sat near was so unplea
sant as to make her feel faint. Ho immedi
ately proposed that she should go into an ad
joining room where were fewer persons, and
get a place near one of the windows, offer
ing his arm at tho same lime. She arose,
and I saw her pass out slowly. She was in
good health ; in fact, in ilia very prime and j
vigor of yonng life; yet, surrounded as she
was by every luxury and elegance. slio had
grown inactive, and felt even a small effort
as burdensome. Trifling causes affected
her ; and she imagined a physical inability
to do a thousand things that might have
been done with scarcely an effort.
The very sympathy and concorn'manifes
led by Merwyn, who was the lover of Flo
rine, made her fall that she was really indis
posed-; and she languidly reclined on tho so
fa to which he had conducted her, with the
air of an invalid. Finding that she did not
grow any better, Merwyn, in a little while, j
proposed that she should go home, and had j
a carriage ordered. Wandering into the j
apartment to which they had gone, I" saw j
him bring her shawl, without which she j
could not pass into the dressing room for fear j
of cold, and saw her meet the attention wiih |
a half averted face, and a want of effort, i
that made me feel as if I would like to have
aroused her by moans of the wires from an
electrical battery.
"A beautiful couple they will make," said
Ito ir.yself, as Florine arose and went out,
leaning heavily on the arm of tho yonng
man, to pas through the storms and over
tho rough places of this troublesome world.
A summer breeze will be too rough for that j
young creature, and the odor of violets too ,
stimulating for her nerve."
A lew mo.nths subsequently to this they i
were married, and not long afterwards I re- j
moved from tho city, ami did not see them
again for some years. But, I learned, in the
meantime, with sincere regret, that in a great
"commercial crisis" through which the
country passed, both of the families of this
young couple had been reduced from afflu
ence to comparativo poverty. A sigh for the
human summer flowers I have mentioned,
was my simple response lo the news. A
couple of years afterward I met them again.
During a journey through the western part
of Ohio, I had occasion to stop for a few
days in the litilo town of R ■ -■ On the
| day of my atrival.a man whose face struck
me as being familiar, passed tho door ol (he
tavern in which I was standing. A sort of
doubtful recognition took place on both sides,
but neither of us being'certain as to to the oth
er's identity, wo did not speak, and tho man
passed on. I looked after him as he moved ■
down the street, wondering in my mind who
he could be, when I saw him stop, and af
ter appearing to hesitate about something,
turn round and walk back toward the hotel.
He was a yonng man plainly dressed, and
! looked as if he was a clerk in a store, or,
1 it might be a small store-keeper himself. As
ihe came back, I fixod my eyes upon his,
; face, trying to make out who it was that
, bore such familiar features,
j "My old friend Merwyn 1" I exclaimed,
| ashe paused in front of where I stood.
He called my name in return, and then we
; grasped each others' hands eagerly.
"The last man in the world I expeeted to
meet," said I.
I "And certainly, I as little expeeted to
1 meet you," was returned. ' This is indeed
a pleasure! When did you arrive, and how
long do you stay in R ?"
"I came here yesterday, and hopo to re
sume my journey to-morrow."
"Not so soon !" Merwyn said, still tightly
holding my hand. "You must stay longer."
"I am doubtful as to that," I returned.
"But is this your place of sojourn in the
world ?"
"Yes, for tho present, seeing that I can't
I find • better."
There was a manly eheerfu'iiess in the
way this WHS said, which I cotild not have
believed it possible for the young man to
teal, under the gieat change of circumstan
ces that had taken place.
"And yout ladyl felt some hesitation
even while I asked this question.
"Very well, thank you !" was cheerfully
replied. "We live a mile or two from town,
and you must go out and ape id a night with
us before you leave. Florino will be deligh
ted to see you."
"It will be quite as pleasant for me to
meet her," I could but answer; yet even
while I spoke I felt that our meeting must
remind the wife o f my friend so strongly of
the past, as to make it anything but pleas
"How long have yon lived hero ?"
"About two years."
"It is almost the last place in which I ex
pected to meet you. What are you doing *"
"Merchandizing in a small way. I had
no profession, w-hen kind fortune knocked
us all on the head, and so had to turn my
hand to tne first thing that offered, which
happened to be a clerkship in a store at three
hundred and fifty dollnrs a year. This was
barely enough to keep body and soul togeth
er ; yet, I was thankful tor so much, and
tried to keep down a murmuringpirit. At
the end of a year, having given every satis
faction to my employer, he said to mo one
day—'You have shown far more business
capacity than I thought you possessed and,
I think, nre tho very man I want to go out
west with a stock of goods. Can you com
mand any capital ?' 'Not a dollar, I fear,'
was my reply. 'l'm sorry for that,' said he,
fer I want a man who is nble lo take an in
terest in the business. Don't you think you
could raise a couple of thousand dollars in
cash ?' I shook my head, doubtfully. We
had a good deal more conversation on the
"When I went home, I mentioned to my
wife what Mr. L ,my employer, had
said, and we talked much about the propo
sition. I expressed a great deal ol regret at
not being able to furnish capital, as the offer
I had received was plainly an advantageous
one, and would give me a fair start in the
world. 'Would you be willing to go off to
the west?' I anked of Florine, while we
talked over the subject. 'Wherever you
think it beef to go, I will go cheerfully,' was
her brave answer Thus far she had borne
our change of fortuuo with a kind of hero
ism that more than anything else helped to
sustain me. We were living with my fami
ly, and had one chrld.—My father, of whose
misfortunes you are aware, tiad obtained the
office of President in an insurance compa
ny, with a salary of two thousand dollars a
year, and tins e abled him still to keep his
family around him. and, though luxuries had
to be given up, his income afforded every
comfort. We had a room with them, and,
though my i icome was small, we had all
ttiat health and peace of mind required.
"On the day aftor the conversation with
my wife about the west, she met me on
coming home to dinner, with so happy yet
meaning a smile nn her face, that 1 could
not help inquiring what it meant. As I sal
down by her side, she drew from her pocket
a small roll of bank bills, and, handing
them to me, said—'there is the capital you
want.' I took the money, and, unrolling it
in mute surprise, counted out the sum of two
thousand dollars !—•Where did this come
from l ' I inquired. She glanced across tho
room, and my eyes followed the direction
hers had taken. I missed something It
was her piano ! —'Explain yourself, Florine,'
I said. 'That is easily done,' she replied,
as she looked tenderly tn my face. '1 have
sold my piano and waloh, my diamond pin,
bracelet and ring, and every article of jew
elry and bijouterie in my possession, but
this,' holding up the weddiug ring, 'and there
(you have the money.' I cannot tell you
J how much I was affected by this. But, no
| matter. I used the two thousand dollars in
j the way proposed, and here 1 am.—Come,
l walk down to my store with me, and le* us
chat a little about old times, there."
I went, as invited, and found Merwyn j
with a small, but well selected stock of I
goods in his store, and all the evidences of a
thriving business around him.
"You must go home with me this after
noon," said he, as 1 arose to leave him, after
having hati an agreeable talk for an hour. "I
live, as I told you, a short distance in the
country ; so you will stay all night, nnd can
come in with mo. The stage leaves
here at live o'clock and passes within a hort
distance of my house, Florine will be de
lighted to see you."
I consented, well pleased with this arrrnge
roent, and, at five o'clock was seated in the
stage by the able of my old friend, who
bore as little resemblance to one of your
curled, perfumed, and mouslached exqui
site—what he had once been—as could well
be imagined. His appearance was plain,
substantia!, and business-like.
Half an hour's ride brought us to our stop
ping place.
"I live of! to the right here," said Mer
wyn, as we left the stage, "beyond tlitu
piece of wood. Ten minutes' walk will
bring us to my door. Wo prefer the coun
try for several reasons, the principal one of
which is economy. Onr cottage with six
I acres of ground, oots us only fitly dollars a
year, and we have the whole of the land
worked on shares by a neighbor; thus more
than clearing our rent. Then we have plen-
Ity of fruit and milk for ourselves and chil
| dren, and fresh air and health into the bar
i ggin."
Troth and Right—Bod and dor Coootrj.
"But don't Mrs. Merwyn find it very
lonesomo out here?" I inquired.
"Oh, no. We have two children, and
they, with a vory clever young woman who
lives with us more as a friend than a domes
tic, although we pay her wages, give Flo
rine plenty of society through the day, and I
come in by night (all, and sometimes earli
er, to make the evenings all she could wish-
At least I have Florine's own declaration
for this." The last seutence was uttered
with a smile.
As we walked along, the nearness of my
meeting with Mrs. Merwyn, turned my
thoughts back to other times. A beautiful
girl was before me, languidlj reclining up
on a sofa, overcome by the extract of some
sweet herbs, the perfume of which had fal
len Unhnrmotiiously upon the son3e. A hot
house plant, how was it possible that she
could bear the cold, bracing atmosphere of
finch no lif* no thai she*'—a. nnW livina '
When last I saw her, she was but a tender
summer flower, on whom the warm sun
shone daily, and into whose bosom the night
dews came softly with refreshing coolness
Silently I walked along with my mind full
of such thoughts, when an opening in the
woods through which wo were passing, gave
me a glimpse of a woman's figure, standing
on the second rail of a fence, arid apparently
on the look-out for seme one. The inter
vening trees quickly hid her again from my
view. In a minute or so afterward we emer
ged from the trees, but a short distance from
the woman I had seen, who was looking in
another direction from that' in which we i
were coming. We were close upon nor be- j
fore she observed us. Then the voico of
Merwyn, who called "Florine !" startled j
her, and she turned upon us her beautiful
young face, glowing with health, surprise •
and pleasure. I paused in astonishment. !
VVas that the indolent, languid city belle, '
who could scarcely sit erect even with the i
aid of cushions, now standing firm and j
straight on a fence-rail, and looking more [
lovely and graceful than she hail over seem-1
ed in my eyes.
She recognized me in a moment, and,
springing from tho rail, came bounding tor- i
ward, full to overflowing of life and spirits, j
Grasping my hand, she expressed the warm- !
est pleasure at seeing an old lace, nnd asked 1
me a dozen questions before I could answer i
1 fourd them occupying a neat little bird's
nest of a cottage, in which were two as;
sweet little children as I have ever seen, j
While 1 sat and talked with Merwyn, holding
one child upon my knee, and ho the other,
Florine busied herself in supper. Her,
only domestic was away. "Ever and anon I
caught a glimpse of her as she passed in and
out of tho adjoining room where she had
spread the table. A very long time did not
elapse before I sat down with my old friends
to a maal that I enjoyed as well as any I
have ever eaten. The warm, white biscuits
were baked by Florine; the sweet butter
she had herself churned, so she said, and the
cake and preserves were her own.
"I am surprised at all this," said I, after j
tea. "How is it possible for you to be cheer-1
ful and happy under such a change ? How i
was it posiiblr for you to come so efficiently
into a mode of life, the very* antipodes of I
(ho one lo which you were born, and in ■
which you were educated ?"
"Misfortune," replied Merwyn, "brings
out whatever is efficient in our characters.
This has been particularly the case with us.
We had both led artificial lives, and had
false views of almost everything, when, at a
blow, the golden palace in which we had
lived, was dashed to pieces. We were then
thrown out into the world, with nothing to
depend upon but our individual rnsocrces,
which were, at first, you may well believe,
exceedingly small. The suddeness with
which our fashionable friends turned from us
and the entire exclusion from fashionable
society that followed, opened our eyes to the
utter worlhlessness of much we had looked
upon as ol primary consideration. The no
cessity of our circumstances turned our
thoughts, at the same time, lo thir.gs of real
| moment, the true importance of which tirew
j daily more apparent. Thus we were prepa.
1 red for othei steps that had to be taken, and
which, I am gla.l lo gay, we are able to take
I cheerlnlly. We now lead a true and useful
! life, and lam sure Floriue will join me in
| saying, that it is a happier life than we ever
[ led before."
"Yes, with all my heart," replied the
young wife —"I have good health, good spi
ff!*, and a e.lear conscience; and, without
these, no one can be happy."
"Still," remarked Merwyn, "we look to
growing better off in the world, and hope,
ono day, to bo surrounded at least by a por
tion of the elegance and luxury of early
times. But until that day comes, we will
enjoy the good thing's of life that fall to our
lot; and should it never come, we will have
lost nothing by vain anticipations."
When 1 parted with my old friends on the
next day, I felt that their lot was, beyond
comparison, more blessed than it would
have been had not misfortune visited litem;
and wished from my heart, that all who had
met with similar reverses would imitate their
good example. Still, I wondered at the
change 1 had seen , and, at limes could hard-
I ly realize its trcth.
t3T While one of the citizens of Lowell
was making a requisition one morning on
the milk can, just left at the door for the
breakfast table, a plump, live frog, mado its
debut in the pitcher. It is supposed the cow
which produced the wa* fed on bul
rushes and toad-stools.
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■ ! _ -! I ——
"Pray tell me my dear, what is the cause
of those tears ?"
"Oh such a disgrace !!"
"What disgrace
! Why I have opened one of your letters
1 supposing it addressed to myself. Certainly
| it looked more like Mrs. than Mr."
j "Is that all ? What harm can there be in
a wife opening her husband's letters?"
! "No harm in itself. But the contents.—
; Such a disgrace !"
"What has any one dared to write me a
I letter unfit to be read by my wile r '
; "Oh no. It is couched in the most chaste
language. But the contents !"
Here the wife buried her face in her hand
i kerchief and commenced sobbing aloud
! when the husband eagerly caught up the let.
ter and commenced reading the epistle that
had been the means of nearly breaking his
wife's heart. It was a bill from the Printer
for nine years subscription.
EP" President Fillmore has sent instrue
tions to arrest all the parlies to the Syracuse
outrage and their committal for trial on
I charge of treason.
I rp" Tharksgiving is appointed in New
Hampshire for the 27th ol November, Ike
same day as in Massachusetts.
The notes of tho new Bank at Bridgeport,
Connecticut, have a portrait of Jenny Lintl
on the one end, a"'l one of Barnum on tin
other end.
IT Macauley the essayist and historian,
has a novel in hand, besides the third and
fourth volnmes of hi* History of Englsnd.
The Itlglit Kiml of u Consul.-
A Candian paper, commenting upon tho
late summary massacre of Americans in
Havana, says that the impression is preva
lent that had a British or French tnan of
war been laying in the Harbor, as was the
United Stutes shop of war Albany, and had
a British or FrCttch consul been in the city,
such a wholesale tnassacreo of British or
French subjje.ts would not have taken place.
It then relates the following anecdote :
In 1820, two English sailors, who had
cammitted a crime in Havanna, were about
to be shot. They were clearly guilty, but
the British Consul insis'ed that they should
be tried. This the Government refused.
The Consul remonstrated and tlis Captain
General became insolent. The hour of ex
ecution came and the Consul was on the
spot; he brought with him the consular flag,
the British 'Union Jack,' and again earnest
ly remonstrated, but in vain. The officer on
the plaza was about to proceed in the exe
cution of bis duty.—The consul finding all
lurlhcr remonstrance useless, placed himself
in Iront ol" the men unfolded the Union
Jack, which he threw over the kneeling pris
oners, ami said, — 'Now SHOOT AT THAT FLAG
tr YOU DARE !" They were remanded to
prison, and that night they escaped
It is very natural that the most intense in
dignation should be felt by the American
people against the present American Consul
at Havana, but if it should rum out that he
only acted according to instructions of his
government, much of the opprobtium will
be removed from him. No doubt when
Cbngress assembles an inquiry will be made
as to whether Consul Owens had special in
structions from the Government to act a* he
is reported to have done.—N. Y. Sun.
[Two Dollors per Annas.
Condition of (he Free Colored Ptofitt,
We lake no pleasure in reading such de
tails as the following, of the deplorable con
dition ot the free colored people in this
country; but the facts being such, it is prop
er they should be known. Their publica
tion may serve the useful purpose of dissi
' paling the notion that real libeity, prosperity
' and social elevation* can be enjoyed by the
people of color in any part of the United
Stalep. That great fact once admitted it is
hoped that the bitterist enemies of Colonize'
lion will become its friends. Already the
truth begins to break in upon long-cherish'
ed prejudices, as is evinced by the article
from a highly intelligent man, coo'
ied into this paper.
A writer in the Baltimore Patriot, who is
travling in Ohio, gives the following account
of the Randolph negroes, who, it will be re
membered, were driven- from the homes
which Itail been procured ioi a them, by the
Whites :
| "Troy, about twenty miles from Dayton,
is a small and rather dilapidated town, be
tween this place and Pequa. Along the ca
nal, the majority of the Randolph negroes
are located. It was in the adjoining county
of Mercer that the large tract of land was
purchased for their settlement, from which
the) were forcibly ejected by the white in
habitants. The condition of these poorcrea
tures is a sad commentary on the miserable
policy of emancipating negroes, and allow
ing them to remain in this country. The
majority of those once invaluable servants
are now worthless pets upon the communi
ty among whom they are located, and often
want for the common necessities of life. I
heard several of them express an ardent wish
to return to the shores of Roanoke again,
whore they once had plenty, and did not
know what it was to suffer lor want.".
The following irom the New York Even
ing Post , shows what it is elsewhere :
"Fugitive Staves in Canada and England—
William Wells Brown, formerly a slave in
the United Sn.les, addresses a very sensible
latter to the London Times, on the condition
ot the fugitive -iaves in England. Ha says
very many of those who have been compel
led to tly into Canada, Irom persecutions re
selling fiom the la o I'ugi ive Law, are with'
out employment. HJ estimates the number
of fugitives in Canada at thirty thousand;
and as these people, ho says, ate mostly
without education, and have but little knowl
edge of the mechanical branches, they find
many difficulties in the way of getting em
ployment, and thereby earning for them
selves an honest living
"Many of these people have, within the
last six or eight months, gone ro England to
seek employment, and encounter the same
difficulties there, as in Canada, and, conse
quently, soon become a burden to the benev
olent, or inmates of the'unions. He there
fore recommends that provision be made fol
sending such of them as are willing to goto
the West Indies, to labor in those islands
where slavery has been abolished, and where
a deficiency ol labor is now experienced.
"What Mr. Brown asserts in regard to the
necessities and distresses of his brethren in
exile, is undoubtedly true. Their case must
be the same as that of their masters would
be, were they by a harsh and unexpected
law compelled to lake tefuge on foreign
shotes and in unaccustomed climes. But
whether the plan of sending thera to the
West Indies promises anything effectual for
their relief, we doubt. The owners of es
tates in the British islands will probably soon
learn, if not yet convinced of it, that it is
not mere hands they need so much as an
improved system of management and agri
culture. The relative density of population
in all the West India islands is far greater
than in any slave State, ana none of the
numerous attempts to colonize them with
laborers have resulted beneficially.
"Wages, in all the British West Indies,
are now at the starving point, and it would
J be madness for colored people to go there in
j quest of labor. If, however, they have or
■ can procure a little capital, say from one to
j five hundred dollars, which they can afTord
j to invest in the soil, then we should unhesi
tatingly advise them to seek a home in one
; of those islands, where the best of laud can
be bought at from five to ten-dollars an acre
I where five acres will support a small family
I comfortably, and where the highest social
ami political privileges are within tho reach
of all who merit them."
I A HONEY MOON. —The New Orleans Pica
yim • of tho 19th, gives the following account
j of a honey moon and its results:—
Dorothea Walker was yesterday charged
by her husband Adolphe Walker, who lives
I at No 115 St. Peters sireet, with having, du-
I ring a (our weeks marriage, quarrelled with
him, threatened Ilia lite, burnt him with a
hut iron, stabbed htm in the cheek, and beat
and kicked him. A warrant was issued. If
j the law don't take hold of this woman,
! then there are no snakes.
j GEOHOI*. —The majority for Howell Cobb
! the Union candidate for Governor is about
I rue Congressional delegation stands six
Union men to liyo Secessionists.
| CP" Rcssignation if U. S Senator Davis, of
Missippi. —The Vicksburg Sentiel teams by
1 a de-patch Irom the Mississippian that Jef
feison Davis has sent in his resignation at
U. S. Senator.
CP" The State Debt in
ceeda $8,000,000. - * 9 *

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