Newspaper Page Text
r. . , 1 -J . f M ..-. - - v i'f' J '.i; .- 4 1, r ." : ; ; e . - ' ' '. '- '! C- afcsil c---2 r '' : '- - i v-rf ' J i-.-.V,'iKM it' .-rr - -it? ill m . eetpHaCSQa S3CES2T333 tSTXTQ? S20aiJ2La33.3rS3 CS3T GO3I2D---GE0RGE WASHINGTON i -,' fi ji: I,';" .ft , V A ll-) - .r . i m ay v a ' NEW, SERIES VOL. 3 ; ; CITY OP LANCASTER: PUBLISHED livEltY THURSDAY MOKNINO my e ei ihcutcb nTTn TOM S. SLAUGHTER, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR, ..office Old public Building Southeast corner oi ;i ' " ' ' ruu" i,'lulre- - TERMS On yuar In advance, 2,00; at the explr- tlonoftbe year,U;Clttbofwu, tli,W; Clubaof reuty-nrc, 3i),uo. Z . ' ; TERMS OF ADVERTISING. One Square, 10 linen (orlejn) three lnaertlont Each additional Uiaertlnn , 1,00 tMoMkt 8,00 . S,00 10,00 '. . 12,00 13.00 25 IS Month, 0,00 , 0,W 13,00 . ' 14,00 . 10,00 85,00 i OneSquara . . j f3,00 V,;,Tw - , ;,, ;., 4,00 . j Three . 5,00 , ..One-fourth column 7,tMi One-third 0,00 , Oue-half " 10,00 One . " . . 14.00 30,00 Yearly adfcrlisera have the privilege of renewing r their ndvertlaemoiita. TTyButineM Cnr.ls, not exceodlnir one equare will 1 Inserted,' for 8tibcrUiera, at 95,00 per year: non 'i ubscribera will be charged f 6,00. 40,00 Thursday Mornine May 17, 1855 A Sonnet by Panlcl Webnter, -rh. u-v,ir n-. ,.Mi.h-. .k- following lino by Mr. web.ter, written by him in the Album ofan American friend while on a visit to Eng- ;')and. Our readers, we believe, will agree with us in , thinking Ha hanpy idea, hanirily expressed: ;TIIE MEJIOBV OF THE HEART, -- - -- If stores of Dry and learned lore we pain Close keopthem In the memory of lit train; Knmes, tlilncvand fucti whut'ur we knowledge call, , Thcrt Is the coiumou ledger for them all; , And linages on this cold surface traced. ' , Make slight impressions, and are .soon oifaced. . 'f ! - Bit we've a paee more glowing, and more bright, " On which our friendship, and our love lo write, " 'That these may never from the-soul depart, ' -Wo trust thorn to the-fotaorv of the Heart: ' "There is no dimming no eiracement here, Each new puliation keeps the record clear; Warm golden lottfrn all the tablet till, " Kor lose the lustre till the heart stands still. ' London, November 18, 1K10. - - ' THE LOVE OriUV ' A SKETCH FlULU LIFE, :', ;' oy oCr Family pnrsicus.' '. . .1 had already some skill and no!iriety Jli tny treatment of pulmonary complaints; and traveling North one summer for health ? ' iand' rest, I stopped for a few weeks at, a .;' "boautiful littlti', .village near the St.. Law- ' rcriiip,- wrliere I was - somewhat known. ' ' I vi had only been ? in ihe village two days when I was 'called to the youngs daughter of a: weul thy farmer by the nam-e of Sum mer'. '." ;" 1 IdaSuinmrr had been : the belle of the v fcbun.ty aii!l,',hough only seventeen," her jiiarvelous beauty. had. already kindled a bright fire in the heart of manv a suilor in her favor.. ; Frank, ConOding. and at once ily. and, had the aristocratic de affixed to ; playful and' modest, arch, yet . innocent,- his name, although he could boast no pat J'ullof wild spirits, yet, utterly devoid of limoniul estate. oquetry to see her was to love herw ,s " j , young lady was of England's priv - 1 found the peerless girl whom I had re-j class-both noblo ami wcal.hy, Vniembered from the summer before as buov-.'. This, , ' however, our lover did not know ant and rosy with health, pale and wan as ' a summer chnia. and apparently in the last "cl ' vviiuij. . ajovb uegcis tove, anu wo '"'and closing. stages of a deep decline. ' At men are grateful; and the fair girl return caruful investigation'into the' Btateof her!'d tlle' young soldier's devotion. ,. They lungs convinced me. that herVwas a men-'" mut of ten how or where we cannot say; tal rather than a physical consumption. . Ii but rrisia large, , and English customs studied lie r case carefully, watched the var- j are convenient for young people. .This ious expressions of her speaking face, and was charmingly agreeable, but unsatis- at last came to the conclusion that her mal - '" ady was one of the hftirt.' ' ' ' .; :''' One of unrequited- att'ction? I could .'.-not think that;, beautiful and' good as she '"' was.1: -: - - ,.-.': ; . ' - iTha case wa a difficult one. -Tendeilv ' : and irontlv 1 niobed cverv. soundinnr. but could arriva at no oni-lusion. Tims much tl'nX discovered;, that she possessed no par-i ti.o fa; ... or near, whose name I could tret hold of. And notwithstanding all my efforts, she: in teemed rapidly declining- . j " - I made minute inaurv into her Dast ilife:; ' " but cautiously, as not, to let my motives be , ... , apparent, i learned that -she had tpent a, ." "'. ol "g". '-lergyman " ' few weeks of the winter preccdinrr with an mny marry them without parental leave. ,; '..intimate friend in an Adjoining town, where , My Lord and My Lady are made con- . repaired; but by closest enquiry could scious that their fair and gentle daughter ... ascertainnothing more." " ';' . , has a will of her own, and also A patient The clergyman of the church which she determination to gratify that ,will. , They had attended was a young man, but one tome to parley and enter into negotiations . given to study aud seclusion. She . had wit' the young people.' consequently seen nothing of bim except'- -The lovers are to be' separated for two Vr." in the - pulpit. ) l liad made a pretext to: yearsT't shall not be considered an en ;:; :caH onhim,:and found him aman altogeth-" gagement and the yonng lady shall re i 'r made after the model of which might ceive the addresses of other suitors.' be the highest sspirationa of a woman's On the other hand, the lovers are to be heart , j permitted to correspond, and if they re in fact; all the unengaged young, ladies ma' lovers at the end of two years, they .-j of his parish wero well ; nigh crazy, about hira.' But W a 1 he accorded nothmirbuta friendly -frreetinff: and leaviner them all sought the privacy of his own study. , ' He ', . --was eminently handsome, and, . added to ' his1 tall manly form and beautifully chiseled y -'rfeatures, he possessed - a benignity of ex t,l' preision that, was nearly divine. ' ;';r;I had much conversation with him, and Ju", among other things Casually mentioned Ida Rummer,, and her evidently ; dying; state, - 'Blarging somewhat on her ; beauty and .:, ; goodness. , His color deepened somewhat 1 '. an he assented to my remarks, and express- ' V ed his own regrets at her untimely fate; ' but otherwise ha manifested no emotion. '" I remarked him that it was time for him : " ''to triva hi nrntfv Tiftrannftrre a mistress. J .-MT. S- ---r J r o 'I may, many years from now,' replied he; with asurlrlAn anrl rlflonnnincr sadness: " Dtit i eany learned to distrust the dislntern ugiucuou inio monins.ana no ieer cneer S ested and tbidintr AffeetW of our modern d the sick heart of the poor cirl.. The ... ,- fyoung women. ;. I( I marry, I shall; prob mn'; ably marry late in life. ,V v ;, a. fallacy, take my word forit.Mr, Stu art. Our modern women, tome of them, . are as fond and true as any of the dames of old.; -The thing is to nd the right one,' : and thus saying, I bade bim good morn-! ing.' - "-'i ''-";;--;-..;-:' - NO. 2 On my return I found my patient ratber lower man wnen l Ictt her. 1 told her I had been to the village of . Sudden ly and tumukuously the warm blood rush ed up to her bosom and face, and sbe look eu ai me witu ner sott enqumnz eyes. 1 told her of her friends and equally mentioned the name of the young clergyman, Robert Stuart. To her clear blue veined temples the same truant blood ' Sped with fearfnl force, r t, j f . , .. i 1 had seen enough. I knew her dis ease, ana most probably us remedy. 1 I instantly wrote a note to Mr. Stuart, merely saying: 'If you would save a life, lose not a moment in hastening to (the name of the town.) I will await you at my lodgings,' I signed my name, and dispatched it by ft private messenger. feooner than I expected, the young clor gyman was at my hotel. I had prepared Ida for a conversation with a clergyman, specifying, however, no one in particular. j 6aw her blush and start of joy and modesty. What then and there transpired, noone ! but the rrpnf. fiAnrMioi rtf Vtoncta onA tl,a f , ? . . .. ... . two of hischoicesthandiworkthusbroiiL'ht together a dying girl and a minister of Heaven can answer. 1 left them alone as long as I thouo-ht her Weak State might i Lq, UnJ f A,..,,l il. j T r.?j vv.... , aljU ,1 x UUIIICU .LlJ MUUI X 1UU11U opei him sitting beside her bed, her slender hand fast locked in his, and his soul-beaming eyes pouring life and love upon lwr. My eyes filled with tears as I caught sight of her radiant face, so full of peace and serene bliss and life,' "but the , tears I shed were the tears of joy. ... . My patient, with almost one bound, re gained her health and strength, and the glorious representuiive of God's minister upon earth, changing his mind upon the subject of matrimony in favor of the 'right one,' is now one of the truly happy men on earth; happy in a life-marriage "with one every way congenial with him, und every way worthy of him. , A rilEACII STOKV. The winding up of a romance in real life has recently taken plaoe in the quasi offi cial world of Paris'. Thus runs the story: . At a Court ball, some twenty years since, a young officer of the French caval ry met and was charmed by a beautiful English girl. ;i lie obtained an introduc tion, and danced with her as often ns he cjuld, without challenging the remaik of his urace, the vomit; ladv s papa. Our hero was handsome, . amiable,, witty, and m every way a person to win the good W'H sex. - He was of good lam- wllen first l'8 bowed bofore the charms of i ictory; tor, uieirs was a nirtation. wan a serious intention affixed to it marriage! ' 'At length our heroinediscloses her wish es to her parents. They are horrified; their daughter marry a Frenchman, mere ly a lieutenant, a man without estate! It - ' not to be, thouu-ht of. oho r.stens to first weakness their decision in tears; A passed, however; f-he feels nature's die tate and the (strenL'th which love ifives. Slie next boldly and firmly declares to her parents that she loves the young officer with her whole heart, and him alone' will 8e marry. They will not permit her to judge of her own hnppiness. she can wait ..l'i :.i ---...I.'.. - .1.- :.- i "".u ral4rrj wim iuii consent anu appro- canon, v The young lady consolos her anxious lover with assurance that her love is un changable, and that the two years' absence will only serve to prove their affection for each other and endear them to one another still more., ,They parti The English party return home, During a month they exchange . Otters daily and euch letters! Of what a icngui, ana now iuii or terms oi enaear ment! How poor lantruaee seemed to them! But one day, our fair heroine listened in vain for the . postman's knock, so well known to every Londoner. He came not, The next day passed,' and the next and The next day passed, no 'tidings; and thus--many days passed, and brought disappointment only. Weeks third month came round, and her hopes be' oame fait t. Then My Lady condoled with her daughter,, upbraided the young solr dier, and urged the acceptance of Lord- as a suitor for her band, -y .'... ''.'it "It was thus that a true English heart should resent an insult." : Three months more i passed, .Meanwhile the .unhappy LANCASTER, OHIO, THURSDAY MORNING, MAtf 17, 1855 damsel writes letters and sends them in every possible way, in the hopes of obtain ing an explanation of this long silence. None comes; doubt becomes conviction she is deserted. , She stifles the love in her heart, and pride comes to strengthen her self respect. 1 Having no longer a desire of her own,8he yields to that of her mother. 'My Lady, I will marry Lord , but since I have so decided, let us be married quickly.' . . . It was done. Fifteen years passed by. Our heroine is a widow. Five years more, aud 'My Lady' lies ill until death. , She calls her daughter to her bedside, and confesses that she had detained the letters of the young officer that he had been faithful. The proofs of it were by the hundred in . such a desk. 'My Lady' dies. Our heroine seeks these letters of the lover of her youthful days, and finds heaps of his, and also those she had written in the vain hope of obtaining an explana tion oi nis silence. Twenty years of disappointment were forgotten in reading the ardent expressions oi altcctton and devotion , which they wreathed. She was young again, and her heart had known no care it was again the spring time of her life. She took these letters with her, and went to Paris. She sought information from tho Minis ter of War, of him who was lieutenant in tho cavalry in 1834. ' The authorities re plied that the lieutenant at that time was now Commander General, and that he was now stationed in one of the Southern De partments. The widow wrote to the Gen eral that she was at Paris, and desired to see him. -.lie obtained leave of absence and hastened to meet the lady.'- All is ex plainhd and our lovers are married. To be sure, the General is no longer young; but his manners have tho same charm, and his elegance and 6tyle lessen his apparontage Ihe lady carnos her inadmissible forty years as if they numbered but thirty. The latter twenty years of their lives are likely to oe imppiers than either ot the hrst. : And so ends a real life romance, that i very like one in a story book. . , A HuGK Pile of Serpents. Baron Humboldt says: ... , ,.. "In the savannahs of Izacuba, Guiann, I saw the most wonderful and terrible spcctable that can be seen, and although it be not uncommon to the natives, no travel er has ever mentioned jt. ' We were ten men on horselmck, two of whom took the lead, in order to sound the passages, while I preferred to skirt the great forests. ,One of tho men who formed the vanguard gal lop and called lo me, 'Here, fcir, come and sec serpents in a pile." He pointed to something elevated in the middle of the savannah or swamp, which appeared like a bundle of arms. One of my company said, "This is certainly one of tho assem blies of serpents which heap themselves on each other after a violent tempest. I have heard of these, but never saw any; let us proceed cautiously, and not gov too near them, , , ; t-i .-When we were within twenty paces of it the terrorpl or horses prevented ourap proaching nearer, to which none of us irT dined. . On a sudden .the pyramid mass became agitated; a horrid hissing issued from it: thousands of serpents rolledspirally on each other, and shot forth out of the circle their envenomed darts and fiery eyes to us. .I own I was the first to draw back, but when I saw this formidable phalanx remain at its post, and appear to be more disposod to .-defend itselt than attack us, I rode around in order to view its order of battle, which faced the enemy' on every side. I then thought what could be tho desmn of such an assemblage: and I con eluded that this species of serpent dreaded some colossal enemy; which might be the great serpent or cayman, and they reunite themselves after Seeing the enemy, so as to resist the enemy in a mass. - , - i - " ' - " - Destruction of Ants. A correspon dent ot the f hiladelphia Ledger says: . we gave you a sure remedy procure a large spunge, wash it Well, press it very dry; by so doing it will leave the small cells open lay it on the shelf where .they are most troublesome, sprinkle some white sugar on the sponge (lightly over it,) two or three times a day, take a bucket of hot water to where the sponge is, carefully drop the sponge in the scalding wator, and you will slay them by the thousands, and soon rid the house of those troublesome in sects. When you squeeze the sponge, you will be astonished at the number that had gone in the cells. 7 . ! .;:'. ' 7, i j ' Another correspondent of the same pa- per says, mat a smaii uoiuu ot turpentine without any cork, plared.in the place which the auts frequent, and ahttle ot it sprinkled on the shelf or pioce of muslin,, will drive them off the smell of turpentine is enough for them, and (hey leave on tmell. Moths like it no better. .., .- . , - . , v War is Costly. The English are dis covering that it is impossible to carry on a cheap war, and the taxes are beginning, to press upon the nation. : Jt ne London Tunes, reflectingupon the thirty millions of pounds a year which the war now costs, says that in order to pay for one soldier at the seat Of war,' or one borse, or to supply a Lan caster giln for halt an hour, they must pay what would maintain four or five families in comfort, keep up a good parish school, provide -an active clergyman .for a neg lected district, or do some other good work that; may be; will never now be done. As there is now no prospect of a peace,, new expenses mutft be incurred to carry on the war successfully .j ' 'a v h'-ii 5 : THE OlCATiSDTIIE FAHTHfXtt. ' BT MART HOWITT. A ducat and a farthing had just been Coined in the great mint where all the gold, silver and copper pieces are made. The two lay close side by side, clean and beau tiful, and tho clear sunlight glittered upon them.' ;: ' ' - "Thou ragsmuffiti! cried the ducat, off with' thee! . Thou art only made out of vulgar copper,' and are not worthy to be shone' upon by the sun. Thou wilt soon be black and dirty, and noone will think it worth a while to pick thee up from the ground.", I, on the contrary, am of costly gold; I shall travel th tough the world to the great people of the earth to princes and kings I shall do great things, and even at length, perhaps, become part of the king's crown." '. At the same moment, a great white rat, laying near the fire, rose up and turning round on her side, remarked: ; "The under must be uppermost to make all even." .' And the fate of these two coins was somewhat the same. ' 1 The gold piece came into the possession of a rich mii-er,woh locked it up in a chest among a great number of other gold pieces, The miser, fearing that he should soon die, buried his gold in the earth, so that no one should possess it after him; and there lies the proud ducat till this present time, and it has grown so black and dirty, that no one would pick it up if he saw it. The farthing, however, traveled through the earth, and came , to high honor; and this is how itoccurred: . .. A lad from the mint received the farth ing in his wages, and the lad's little sister admiring the bright little coin, he gave it to her. The child ran into the garden to show her mother the farthing; an old lame beggar came limping up, aud begged a pieco of bread. . "I have none," said the little giil. "Give me then a farthing, that I may buy myself a bit of bread, said the beggar. And the child gave him the far thing. The beggar limped away to the baker's. ' Whilst lie stood iu the Bhop an old acquaintance, dressed as a pilgrim,witU his cloak, staff and bag.came up the street, and gave the. children prettey pictures. of saints and holy men, and the children dropped pence into the box which the pil grim held in his hand. The beggar ask ed, ' "Where are' you going?" The pil grim replied, - "Many hundred miles to the city of Jerusalem, where the dear Lord Jesus was born, and livod, and died; I am going to pray at Jiis holy grave, and to buy the release of 'my s brother, who has been taken prisoner by the ' Turks. " But first, I am'collooting money in my box." 1'So take my mite,", said the beggar, and he gave the pilgrim th? farthing. , . The beggar was walking away, hungry as ho came, but the baker, who had look ed on, gave the poor old man the bread he was about to have bought. . " ;. Now, the pilgrim traveled through many lands, saild over sea in a little ship, and at length reached the 'city of Jerusalem. When the pilgrim arrived, -he first prayed at the sepulchre, then presented himself 1 r .1. - cv . 1 . L. tj. t! 1 .1 eiore vneu.tan, w o ncm n.s orotner . captive. He offered the Turk a great srflnf 01 money,-11 ne wouia oniy set nig oroiner free. ' But the Turk required more: ; ' "I have nothing more to' offer thee,"" spake the pilgrim, "than this common farthinp-, .which a beggar gave ' me out of compas sion." ' "Bo thou also compassionate, and the farthing reward thee." mi.. 0..1. ,1. ,i . i' 1-- .. aneounan put u.e lurtuing in "ispocK-j et, and soon forgot all abou t it,.; The Em- pcror ot Germany came to ueru, ami waged war against the Sultan. ' The Sul-, tan fought bravely; and was never .wound ed. Once an arrow; was shot straight at his breast it struck him but foil 4 bask a gain without having wounded him. ;;. The Sultan was much surprised at this, and af ter the battle, his' clothes were examined, and in the breastpocket, the farthing was found against which the arrow bad struck. The Turk held the farthing in great honor, and had it hung with a golden chain to the handle of, his seimotaf. Latei ' on In the war the Sultan was taken prisoner by the Emperor, and was forted to yield np his sword Into the Emperor's possession, i Whilst the Emperor sat at table with a beaker of wine his hand, ' the .Empress said She- should like to see the Sultan's sword; and it was brought.' As the Em peror exhibited it to the Empress, the far thing -fell from the golden ohain. into the beaker of wine.- The Emperor perceived this, and before he placed the beaker to his lips, he;, took out - the farthing. ' "But the farthing was grown- quite "green. Then every one-saw that there was poison in the wine.. A wicked attendant had poisoned the wine in order to destroy the Emperor. The attendant was condemned to death; but the farthing was placed in' the Imperi al crown.--' -' ', 1 -' ' H ' Thas the farthing had delighted a child, had procured a beggar bread, had released a prisoner had saved tlie life of a Sultan, and of an Emperor. Therefore it was set in. the Imperial crown, and is there to this day if one could cnly see that crown! To Shake orv -, Trouble. Set about doing good to somebody; put on your hat and go and visit the poor; inquire into their wants and administer unto them; seek out the desolate, and oppressed, and tell them of the consolations of religion.. I have-often tried this method and have al-, ways found it the best medioinc for a heavy heart. Howard - There Should be Wore fanner. Zoboastxr, the Persian prophet and philosopher, taught that "he who sows the ground with care and diligence, acquires a greater stock of religions merit than be could gain by therepetition of ten thousand prayers;'? and the maxim might at this time be jndiciously impressed upon the American people, enforced as it would be by the very high prices which every spe cies of agricultural produce now commands in every section of the United States. This state of things, considering the abun dance, cheapness, and productiveness of land in this country, is an anomaly. Reas oning a priori, one would naturally come to the conclusion . that this should be one of the cheapest countries to live in; but tbe fact is quite the reverse. And why? One reason maybe that labor has a higher val ue here than most other countries; and as labor is the prominent-ingredient of all productions,' whether agricultural, me chanical or scientific, it becomes, in a great degree, the standard of value, as it is the measure of cost, of every article. Anoth er reason is the tendency of labor iu the United States to seek employment in other branches of business, such as the profes sions, trade, commerce, manufactures, banking, brokering and speculating. The American people generally have an over weening desire to become rick suddenly rich and have not the patience to wait for the natural growth of the tree t ob tain its fruit, but must have the fruit now, immediately. - Agriculture is therefore too slow in its process to suit them- An idea irevails among them too, that farming is a ess genteel employment than those we have named, or even than living by their wits, or upon their relatives. Prompted by this false notion, the sons of farmers, even instead of following in the footsteps of their fathers, and becoming respectable farmers, generally leave their rural homes, study professions, become clerks in stores, engage in trade, commence manufacturing or speculating, or Something else; some taking to gold digging or gambling, being ready for any thing that promises rich re wards for little or no labor, and really fit for nothing. Those born and reared in towns or cities, become accustomed to and fond of excitement, company, theatres, parlies, billiaid rooms, nine pin alleys.oys ler bouses and hotels, and are thereby un fitted for rural life; of course they couldn't think of burying themselves upon a farm, Tn. the" country. Hence we rarely, very rarely see cit turn farmer. - We are sorry, but are constrained to say that the same distaste of a country life pervades the fair sex; those especially who have been bro't up amidst the turmoil and excitement of a town life, and accustomed to all the idle dissipation of which it is so largely consti tuted. . : , : From these various causes, and others. there is at the present time a disproportion between the producing class and the con suming. Owing to the same causes agri culture is less esteemed as an employment than it should bo. In England it ranks above all others. It is there the peculiar employment of the nobility and gentry, who take as much pride in their crops and cMe g9 do be; the pOSsessors of knded esta It is U) cJrkd on in a scientihe manner and upon an extensive scale. It employs an immense amount of capital', and the reputation of being a sue eessfularmer is not beneath the ambition of a Luke or i'rince. it is upon their "es tates' in the . country that the higher and middle - classes of England feel most at , Rnd enjoy ife with the highest zest, j T is there thaJt tl0y re(!e;Ve nnd return vis- it8 Bnd.entertain their friends. ; It is there ,,,,. lf .m1, m.. ,ho. ,, that; family reunions take place, that the , Christmas holidays are spept, that chil - dren are taught to love their , homes; that they acquire memories of them which are the b wee test recollections ot their after life. , In this country farming , is becoming . more of a science than it formerly was, and requires more intelligence to carry it on successfully; r the best educated men are now found to make the best farmers.. . As such men devote themselves more and more to this branch, of business, it will gradually rise as an employment in the es timation of the community, until, as in England, it shall come to be considered the most honorable,, as it is the most impor ts nt of ahV:::jr1- . S. : . An Old Pbwter. Thurlow W.Brown, in a communication from the Cabin in the Maples, ih Wisconsin, to his paper, the Cayuga Chief, Bays that he has found a typographical curiosity in the Plain Dealer office-at Waukesha. . Mr. Ilunt, now an active and hale old man, aud still perform ing the journeyman's labor at the "case" was a "jour" in the London Times office as long ago as the proprietors of that estab lishment, were making efforts to print by machinery .1 , He well remembers . the effort to run a press by horse. Mr. Hunt worked for thirty years in one office. lie remembers Lord Byron well, and has "set" his manusoript. ( Byron used some times to review his own poems, with un stinted f commendation. Such '. articles went to Mr. Hunt in the poet's own hand writing.. ' ,. ., ,.' Pbids.- Pride is a louder begger than want and a great deal more saucy When you have bought one fine thing you must buy ten more that all' may be of a piece. But poor Dick says "It is easier to sup press the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it." t And it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich as the frog to swell to equal the bull. " '':' v .':;..':' i . . . . KIRWAN'S LETTERS. ' TO TRS BIGHT EEV. J0H3 HUGHES, BISHOP OF SEW YORK. LETTER 71. - ' " Mr Dsak Sia.-In my last letter.in which I sought to illustrate that the influence of ropery is to make the masses superstitious, and the intelligent, infidels.m all the coun tries where it predominates, I made the fol lowing assertion: ,"it has rendered our noble-hearted, noble-minded, impulsive coun trymen, the hewers of wood andthedraw crs of water, in all the countries to which they emigrate. The degradation of Ire land which has made it a by-word.I charge upon Popery." To some of the evidences of the troth of these assertions I wish to call yonrattention in the present Jetter. Perhaps the present state of feeling in our country towards famine-striken Ireland maysccure for what I shall say to you some attention. That Ireland is a degraded country, as to its masses, with all our pride of country, neither you nor J can deny. Its general poverty, its pervading ignoraDce, its mud hovels, its innumerable beggars, its insub ordination, are the sad and tangible proofs of iu degradation. They lie upon the sur face of the country, where every traveler can behold them.- And the untravelied American has the evidences of this degra dation brought to his own door. He sees it in the perfect ignorance of his Irish ser vant in the squalid appearance of the Irish beggar in the deep-rooted supersti tion of the Irish papist-in the Irish brawls in low tippling-houses in the furious pas sions ofan Irish mob in tbe .large pro portion of Irish convicts in our prisons.and of vicious Irish in our places-of moral re form. It is, my dear sir, With feelings of regret and shame that I make this state ment. My love ofcouutry has never for saked me for an Lour. With all its faults, 1 love Ireland still;and in the lowest depths of their degradation its children manifests sensibility and a nobility that would hon or those in the highest rnks of civiliza tion, and that evince what they would be under a riiiht develonment of their social and moral nature. AVhat are the causes of this degradation? . . I will not, I cannot omit from the list of causes what is technically called Absen teeism : the lordly proprietors of ' the land living in foreign countries, and expend ing abroad the hard earnings of their ten ants at home. This is one of the grievous curses of Ireland- ',.' Nor can I omit the system of letting and sub-letting, or renting and sub-renting of the land, by the richer to the less rich, un til between the owner and the actual cul tivator there may be six to , twelve land lords, each living upon those below himr and the actual tillers of the land supporting1 Al -ill mi f , . 0 iiH.-uj in is is iniusing into me curse 01 absenteeism an ingredient which multi plies its bitterness by ten. , It gives rise to a class ot landlords as, nnpitymg as fam ine. . .. Nor can I omit the system of tithes for the support of the Established Church of Ireland. . An. Lpiscopal priest is placed in every parish in Ireland; and if he has not one single parishioner to wait on his ministrations, he , is yet entitled to his tithes from the pariah. And these , tithes are drawn from the actual cultivators of the soil, the poor tenants. And , these tithes are usually let and sub-let, as is the land; and their collection usually falls into the hands of men as rapacious as vultures. Yes, and the priest for whose support these tithe? are paid may never have made the impress of his foot upon the soil, of his par ish! Yes, and when the tither calls upon th poor man to pay his tithes for the sup port of a minister he . has never seen, and for the maintenance of a religion, which his soul abhors, unless he is ready to pay, his only cow, more than one half the sup. port of his lamily, is driven tp the market and there sold lor half her value! And if that does not pay, his pig is driven and sold in the same way I Such is the system of tithes in Ireland! I have no language, my dear sir, in which to express my ab-! horrence of it. - The support of such a sys tem is a disorrace to the Protestant name; it is a deep, dark, direful r stain upon the equity of British legislation," . It is a public protest before heaven aud earth against the church that sanctions it, and against the craven-hearted, earthly-minded clergy that can submit to be thus supported! Out of your own church, sir, I know of no ecclesi astical nuisance so utterly offensive as that of the Established Church of Ireland! And' yet the very upholders of these schemes of robbery, yes, and some of the very individuals that, pocket the plunder thus legally and ecclesiastically niched from the poor people, write to ns about public taitii and honesty, and lecture us upon the subject of slavery as if they were" spotless as babriel! VI all this lean say, as Talley rand is "reported 'to have said f a lady that frequently annoyed him; -'Madam,' said he, 'you have but one fault.'- 'Pray, sir,! said she, 'whatis it?' 'It is,' said he, 'that you are perfectly insufferable.' Nor have I seen, among the various plans sug gested by Lord John Russell for the relief of Ireland, a hintat the abolition of this ne farious system of tithes, y ; ' ;, 7 Bad, my dear sir, as I think af these causes,' and much as they nave contributed to the degradation and impoverishing-of Ireland, they are but as the dust of the balance when Compared wito the influ ences of Popery. " And that yonrself may see this, bear me to the close, calmlyi ana without prejudice." ; , ' " ' " " ESTABLISHED IN 1826 iMaMjMi?i;.M-;.-L?. piM Why this Absenteeism, of which. w so bitterly and justly complain? , I am not tv bout to excuse it; but one of its reasons it the opposition of tbe priest to the efforts of the land proprietor to elevate bis tenantry and the fierce jealousies which Ihe priest excites in tbe minds of the people. There is but little Absenteeism in Scotland; wb is it so general in Ireland? The cause w find in the difference of the religion of the two people. If the parish priest of Ireland was like the pariah minister of Scotland, the Marquis of Sligo would bare as - pleas' ant a borne upon bis estate as the - Duke of Buccleugh, or the Marquis of Broadal' bane. . - ... , ,., ; Popery does nothing for the education of the people of Ireland. . With the wealth of the middling classes under its control and almost at its beck, where are its schools and its colleges for the education of its people? You send to Ireland for money to establish them here; why erect none there? Connanght, where your church has complete control, is an almost unbroken mass of ignorance. And Munster is pre cisely like it. And these are the portion of it where the famine is now raging, - Ig norance brutalizes, and . sensualizes, and rendera men improvident. It tlacts our higher in subjection to our lower nature; and in withholding education from the people popery has degraded Ireland. And wherever its children are. carried by the tide of emigration, their want of education places them in the lowest grade of society: and they are more dreaded as a ' burden, than hailed as an accession. . Without the high aspirations Which knowledge impart, and without tbe self-respect which it cre ates, they are satisfied with .being menials where they might be masters to be car rier. of mortar, where they might be chief builders on the wall. , Jf the ignorance of Ireland has any thing to do wall the deg radation of Ireland, J charge thut ignorance upon Pofirry.t ,; . . , '..,, ' ,:.'. . And if Absenteeism, and sub-letting, and the tithe system do much to impoverish the people, Popery does yet more. ' It meets them at the cradle, and dogs them to the grave, and beyond it, with its demands for money. When the child is baptized, the priest must have money., ..When the moth er is churched, the priest must have mon ey. , When the boy is confirmed, the bish op must have money. . When he goe to confession, the priest must have money.' When he partakes , of the Eucharist, the priest must have money, When visited in sickness, the priest must have money. If he wants a charm against ' sickness or the witches, he must pay for it . money". When be is buried, his friends must , pay money After mass is said over bis re mains, a plate is placed on the coffin, and the people collected together on." the occa sion are expected to deposit their contribu tion on the plate. Then the priest pockets the money, and the people take '' the body to the grave, , And then,' however good the person.his soul has gone to Purgatory; and however bad, his soul may have stop ped there.'' And tlieri . comes tlie, money for prayers and masses for deliverance from purgatory, which prayers and masses are continued as long is the money continues to be paid. Now when we. remember that seven out of the nine millions of the peopler of Ireland are papists, and of the most big oted stamp; and that this horse-leech pro cess of collecting money, whose ceaseless cry is 'give, give,' is in operatk in every parish; and that as-, far as possible every individual is subjected to it, can .we won der at the poverty arid the degradatfcn of Ireland? Can we wonder that its Bobfe hearted, noble-minded ' people, are every where hewers of wood and drawer ' of wa ter? Shame) shame, upon your church, that it treats a' people so confiding; and faithful so basely! Shame, shame upon it, that it does so little to elevate a people that contribute so freely to its ' support!,. O, Popery, thou hast" debased my ;', country thou hast impoverished' its people- thou hast enslaved its mind! ' From the hodman on the ladder from the digger of the ea nal from the ostler - in ' the stable from the unlettered cook in the kitchen, and the maid in the parlor from the rioter in the street from the culprit at the bar from the state prisoner in his lonely dungeon from the victim of a righteous Jaw stepping into eternity from the callows, for" a mur der committed under ihe delirium of pas sion or ' whisky, I hear a protest acainst thee as the great cause of .the deep degra dation of as 'noble a people as any upon which the sun shines m the;' circuit of ,k " glorious wayt ''"J:y?', 'V ''"f 5 . My dear sir, your 'religion (s for the benefit of the priest, and not that of the - ople. Its object is not to spread fight. ut darkness, not to advance civilization but to retard it, trot to elevate but to de press man, that he may the more readily be brought under your influence. And we -, hare in Ireland a type of what our happy land will be when the priest wields ' the power here which he wields there. ';'' I own, dear sir, that I have digressed a little from my original object i these let ters.' But 111 my nest I shall commence with the reasons which on the most mature reflection yet prevent me from returning, 0 the pale of your enurem " ' 'Z -With great rcspest, yours,. ' '. God's people are l'ke stars, that eh me brightest in the darkest night; they are lika cold.' that is brichUr for the furnace: like incense, that becomes fragrant from hurniW: like the camomile tlant. thai grows fastest when trampled on. . i t