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Jun &«, if your repentance ig sincere, implore tl e divine goodness; it will not abandon you. Fake your confession.” Thereupon, the priest uncovered himself, and after pronouncing the sublime words, which opefl to the penitent the gates of heaven, he hsteni ti to the beggar. “ Tho non of a poor farmer, honored with the nffriclions of a family of high rank, whost lands rtty father cultivated, 1 v;aa from my in fancy welcomed at tiie castlo of my masters. Destined to be a valed de chambre to the heir of the family, the education they gave me, rny Mpid progress in study, and (he benevolence of my u islers, changed my condition; I was raised to the rank of secretary. I was just turned out of twenty-five vents of age, when the revolution first broke out in Fiance, my mind was easily seduced by reading the newse papers of that period; my ambition made me tired of my precarious situation. I conceived the project of abandoning for the camp, the casile which had been the asylum of my youth. Had I followed that first impulse, ingratitude would have saved me from a crime. The fury of the revolutionists, soon spread through the provinces; my masters, fearing- to be arrested in their castle, dismissed all their servants A surn of money was realized tn haste, and se lecting fr<>m their rich furniture a few articles precious tor family recollections, they went to Pans to seek an asylum in the crowd, and find repose tn the obscurity of their dwelling. I followed them, as a child Os the house. Terror reigned uncontrolled throughout France, and nobody knew the place of concealment of my masters; Inscribed on the list of emigrants, confiscation had soon devoured their properiy; but It was nothing to them, for they were to gether, tranquil and unknown. Animated bv a lively faith in Providence, they lived in ihe expectation ol better times. Vain hope ! the only person who could reveal their retreat, and snatch them from their asvlum, had the baseness io denounce them This informer is myself. The father, the mother, four daugh ters, angels in beauty and innocence, and a young boy of ten years of age, were thrown together into a dungeon, and delivered up to to the horrors of captivityr Their trial com IDcnced. The most frivilous pretences were then sufficient to condemn the innocent; vet the public accuser could hardly find on< motive for persecution against that noble and virtuous family. A man was found, who was the con fid'mt of their secrets and their most intimate thoughts; he magnified die most simple cir , curnatanci s "f their lives into guilt, and mven ted the frivolous crime of conspiracy. This calumniator, this false witness. 1 am he. The fatal sentence of death was passed upon the whole family, except il;o young son, and an unhappy orphan, destined to weep the loss of nil bis kindred, and curse the assassin, if he ever knew him. Resigned, and finding con eolation in their virtues, that unfortunate fam ily expected death imprison. A mistake took place in the order of the executions. The dav appointed for theirs passed over, and if nobody bad meddled with it, they would have escaped vho scuffuld, it being the ove of the ninth of Tbcr mtdor. A man impatient io enrich himself with their spoih, repaired to the revolutionary ribunal, caused the error to be rectified; his zeal was Fewaided with a diploma ofcivism. The order for their execution was delivered immediately, and on that very evening the frightful justice of these timga had its course. The wicked informer, lam he. At the close of the day, bv torch fight, the fatal cart transported that family to death ! The father, with the impress of profound sorrow on his brow, p in his urnm his two youngest daughters; the mother, a heroic and Christian like woman, did the same with the two eldest; and all mingling ’heir recollections, their tears and their hopes, were repealing th funeral prayer. Tliev did ~wi wtitu the name nt their assassin. And it was late, me execution. Ln(Io accus tomed to the horrible work, the valet on the way, begged the assistant o of a passer by. The tatter consented to help turn Ins ignoble function. This man, is myself. The reward of so many crimes was a sum of three thou sand francs tn gold; and the precious articles, st ill deposed heio mound me are the wttneses of my guilt. After I had committed this crime, I tried to bury Hie rrcollrclirrn of it in debauchery, .he gold obtained I y intumons conduct was hardly spent, when remorse took possession of m\ soul. No project, no enterprise, no labour ot mine was crooned with success. I become pn< rm d infirm. Charity allowed me a privi leged place at the gate of the church, where I have passed so many years. The reinem- 1 brance of tny crime was overwhelming; sot poignant, that despairing of divine goodness, I t'.rvi r dared implore iho consolation of reli gion, nor enter the church. The alms i re- ! rei'ed, yours especially , Mr. \bbe, aided nip ' to hoard a sum equal to that I stole from mv f >nuer masters; here it is. The objects of i 1 txt : y winch you remark tn mv room, tins watch, this crucifix, this book, »h-s*e y«-’e.|. portraits, wee taken from inv victims. Oh! how l“ng and profound has my repentance I been, but how powerless ’ Mr. Abbe, do vnu j believe i can hope lor pardon from (iod ?” ; “ My son,” replied the Abbe, “ your crime • rn doubt is frightful: the circumstances ot i ( u»e atrocious. Orphans, who were deprived ( «>f their patents by the revolution, understand 1 bcttei than any one else, all the bitterness <> I iS- a' giHsh suffered by your victims \ who't I ■ | s . d m tear', is not too much tor ti.e < \;>t; ~ii nos such a crime. Yet lhe treasures « f tin me mercy are immense. Relying on ' u repent nice, and full of confidence in the it.« * * wi.tible goodness ot God, I think 1 can b'- . e you of his pardon.” Th«-pries t then rose up. The beggar, as if a moated by new life, got out of bed and fan it down. The Abbe Ptuhn de Saint (’. yr ereurev the rowerful werds which bind or loosen the sing of man* whan the beggar cried out: “ .Father, wait ! before I receive God’s pardon, let me get rid of the fruit of my crimes. Take these object’, sell them, distribute the price to the poor.” In his hasty movements, the begenr snatched away the crape which covered the two pictures. “ Behold I 4 ’ said he—behold the august images of my mas ters I” At the si.’hr, the /Abbe Paulin de Saint C. let these words escape “My lather Imy mother !” Immediately, the remembrance of that hor rible catastrophe, the presence of the assassin, the sight of these objects seized upon the soul of the priest, and yielding to an unexpect ed emotion, be fell upon a chair. His bead leaning ou his hands, he shed abundant tears ; a deep wound had opened afresh in his heart. The beggar, overpowered, not daring to lilt up his looks on the son of his masters, on ihe terrible and angry judge, who owed him ven gence rather than pardon, rolled himselt at his feet, bedewed them with tears and repeated in a tone of despair— 44 My mastei ! rny mas ter I” The priest endeavored, without looking at him, to check his grief. The beggar cried out : “ Yes, Tam an assassin, a monster, an in famous wretch, M. Abbe dispo-e of my life I W hat must I do to avenge you ?” ‘ 4 Avenge me’” replied the priest, recalled to himself by these words—“ avenge me un happy man?” •• Was I not then right in saying that my crime was beyond pardon ? I knew it well, that religion itself would repulseme. Repen tance will avail nothing to a criminal of so deep a dye; there is no forgiveness for me no more paidon—no forgiveness I” These last words, pronounced with a terri ble accent, reached to the soul of the priest, his mission and his duties. The struggle be tween filial grief and the egercise of his sacred functions ceased immediately. Human weak ness had for a moment claimed the tears of ihe saddened son. Religion then sttred the soul of tho servaat ot God. Tl e priest took hold of the crucifix, his paternal inheritance, which had fallen into the hands of this unhap py man, and presenting n to the beggar, he said in the strong accents of emotion, “ Chiistian, is your repentance sincere ?” “Yrs.” “ Is yojr crime the object of profound hor ror?” 44 Yes.” 44 Our God, it/molated on this cross by men, gran s you pardon. Finish your confes sion.” Then the priest, with one hand uplifted over ihe beggar, holding in the other the sign of our redemption bade the divine mercy descend on he assassin of his whole family. VViih his face against the earth, the beggar remained immovable at the priests feet. The latter stretched out his hand to raise him up— he was dead. John Dudley, of Deerfield, was a Captain in the militia. H<! was an old bachelor, had an old maid lor a housekeeper, and tilled the ground like an honest man. He was acquain ted with Governor Wentworth, and frequently called upon him when at Portsmouth, that he might tell his rustic neighbors how thick he was with his Excellency. To add to this im portance, lie once invited the gov rnor to cal upon bun at Deerfield, on his way into the country; and tho Governor promised to do so The captain expected ihe visit some time in a certain week, and kept near his house busily engaged as usual. One very warm day ht> house keeper came puffing into the field to inform him that a grand carriage, which must he tho Governor’s was at a little distance. The captain ran into the house and hardly hau time to slip on his military red coat and cock ed hat, ere his Excellenc drove up. With his trusty sword in hand, D ran into the street and assuming a true captain like sirup, paid a martial salute to his Excellency, who on be holding him, burst into a hearty laugh. This rather discomposed ihe man of the sword; bu bur he was put to immediate flight by the fol lowing speech of the Governor. “ Captain Dudley, I am glad to see xou, but think vour appearance as a military man would be imnro ved, if you were to add to your uniform a pair of breechesan article which the good cap tain tn lus haste to Ins respects, had entirely forgotten.. An old Connecticut farm a r, who cherished an inveterate antipathy against pedlars, was once accosted by one of these travelling mer chants with—- ” Good morning, sir. Couldn’t I sell you some of my goods to day ?” “ Well, I don’t know —very possible you nil; >’ —let’s see what you’vu got ” i'h? pedlar accorJiug’y tinshonlde red his park, and displayed them temptingly to the examination of the farmer. Is that all you have to sei! !” said the farmer. “ y< «—what more do you want ?” “ W by, I want a good largo sized grind st<»ne.’’ “ Do you suppose. «ir, that I would carry grindstones no h rs< t.ack “ I beg paidno,’ s.itl the farmer, “ I reallv thought yon was a foot.''— Jietirt Con. Irons. have somewhere met w.’ii ihe following anecdote, tn my veers since:—\n t-creutnc L wv« r. by tno name <>i J u, m some p-n of \\ orcester romi’v, [Ma". I now dc-.«.i, was in the habit of em'k ng and cati*»gany sort es amino! or repftle ibat came to hand. At a public house m M or i cester, a young limb of the lan, jokmg him oa I nis omnivorous projiensity, m<imr* d if he ever Ie tadpoles. “ I never d J. but ehou’d no: sea” :? do so : though i have no doubt they tvould prove Fatal to you.” 44 Why so?” inquired the young lawyer. “ Because,” replied Johnson, 44 farmers say that tadpoles always kill goslins.” Typographical Error,The funniest typo graphical error that we recollect, was "one iu Freneau’s paper, in Philadelphia, when Con gress met tn that City. It was the rule in that paper it.at the names of speakers should be set in small capitals. On one occasion the cus tom was departed from by the compositor. One of the members, the day previous, had made a flourishing speech, which was reported in full- Thu name appeared at top, in prin ters parlance, in lower case. The proof rea der struck his pen across the name, and wrote on Ihe margin, 44 small caps.’’ So the correc tor foilowing copy, as in duty bound, inserted the Words literally, and the Philadelphia Ga zette came out on that day with a close page, at the head of which were the woids, “ Mr. Small Cap’s Speech.” Folly.— Nonsense is to sense, like shade to light, making by constrast what is beautiful still more beautiful; it is like an intended dis cord in a delicious melody, making the next concord sweeter; like silent sleep after sor rowful wakefulness; the calm which succeeds a storm; like cheerfulness after care; conde scension after hauteur. POL IT SCAD? From the Democrat. Remarks on South Carolina nullification and the founders of that school, Messis. Calhoun, McDuffie, Ilavne and Hamilton, embracing their new allies. NO. 11. All the Republics that have gone before us have disappeared. The Grecian Republics were once the pride and ornament of the hu man race. They were the seal of the muses. They were the nursery of poetry, philosophy, eloquence, and all the fine arts. They en dured for .several hundred years, the purest democracy that ever existed. The Roman Republics comprehended the forest portion of the earth, and were the great rivals of Greece tn all these splended attainments; nnd, like her, for a long time maintained their demo cratic principles under different forms of gov ernment. They were both swept from the face of the earth, ages ago, and blotted out forever. Their proud cities, where once the unrivalled eloquence of Demosthenes and Cicero, poured forth in defence of civil liberty and the rights of man, made tyrants and trai tors crouch beneath its torrent, have long since become the haunts of wild beasts, or the abodes of despotism. In modern times the United Republics of Holland shed new hopes upon the rights oj democracy. But alter spilling oceans of blood to shake offthe yoke of a Spanish despot, and uniting in solemn league for their mutual de fence and protection, this boasted democracy lasted not more than one hundred and fifty wears. This republic is now divided out into petty despotisms, where the common people have no more share in the administration of the government under which they live, and under which their rights are insolently tramoled in the dust, than the horses or tho oxen that graze in their fields. These are deplorable and melancholy histo rical facts that nobody will question. Those people in the days of their prosperity believed iheir liberty imperishable. They enjoyed ihat liberty in a higher degree and greater pu rity than we have ever done. They believed, is many people in our country now believe, • hat whilst they were there to watch over it, io human device could destroy a well estab lished Republican government, in which all he people enjoyed equal rights. But we know tney were deceived. May we not be deceiv d? Have we any more right to count on tie continuance of our democratic govern ment than the Greeks and Romans had, if the <iiiir cause for its destruction exist with us which existed with them? If we will but ex amine, impartially, without regaid to men or measures, the causes that produced the over throw of iheir governments, we shall find to exist in a much higher degree in our country. The Grecian and Roman Republics did not fall by the hand of a single tyrant, but by the <>v< rwhelrning corruption of their Senators, • ravelling orators, and their public councils. Men selected by the people to watch over their public liberties, but who betrayed that sacred trust in pursuit of their own elevation to power, regardless of the means by which they might attain it. Or how can we expect to escape the borors of a civil war, and the dreadful butcheries of the French Revolution, that has but just pass ed before us, which drenched that devoted country m blond, and laid w is e the whole continent <4 Europe for m m than twenty years, if the same boH ind restless ambit ion after power, which governed ihe French Con vention, has become the watch w.-nl of vout nullitiers, and ihe ruling passion in the Con gress of the United States? At the most depraved period of the Roman Senate, profligate as it was, there was not a member of that corrupt body fired with a I more unholy zeal for power than ihe leaders r>f nullification. Nor was there a greater lust for empire in the memorable French Convert non in tl.e days of the bloody Robespierre thin now rages in the Senate of the United States. it there should be any one who might thinfc ’his too b<>!d, let him read the histones of Cai line's Conspiracy, of Caesar’s usurpation.- and of Robespierre’s Jacobin Clubs' and com pare »h»-m wph the short, but fVeiitful htsio .4 nullification, and with th» - long, but che<- ’r» d history of the nu mbers of the new coi •tiimri. ami he will find they were not surpas sed by C itihne, Caesar, Robespierre, or an 2mb’.::cv! 2«v>rar.’, who had goce before them—For what did Catiline do which Mr Calhoun has not done ? He has displayed the same turbulent anxiety after power; am obtruded what he calls his claims, upon tin people with the same restless impetuosity \nd in fact, he has trodden in the very foot steps of Cat,line himself. Catiline obtruded himself twice, as a randi date for the consulship, the highest office n the gift of the Roman people. But they de dined his unsolicited services. '1 hey prefer red choosing a candidate themselves, to fil| that high and responsible office. Mr. Calhoun obtruded himself twice as a candidate for the Presidency, the highest office in the gift of the American people. But they declined his unsolicited services. They pre ferred choosing a candida'e themselves, to fill that high and responsible office. Catiline, when he found the Roman people would not elect him first consul, conspired to overthrow the Roman Republic, or t« place himself at the head of it. Mr. Calhoun when he found the American people would not elect him president, conspir ed to overthrow the American Republic, or to place himselfat the head of it. Catiline, when Cicero accused him with a conspiracy against the Roman Republic, de nied the charge, positively and unequivocally; and imputed it to the malice and jealousy of Cicero, who was ihe people’s candidate to de stroy his popularity; when it was well known he had already organised his party, and was then organizing his army. Mr. Calhoun, when accused, in 1830 31, of being a nulliner, und a derminafion io op pose the laws of the- United Stales, he dented both charges, positively a d uncquivolly; and imputed it to the malice and jealousy of General Jacksun, who was the people’s candidate to destroy his popularity; when it was well knov/n he had already organized his party, and was then organizing his army. Catiline,, was a man of great vigor of mind; had great facility in conciliating his political opponents, and attaching them to his party, and making new political converts. And es pecially if he could meet an honest man in some, hidden corner, or in some retired cham her , where, if ho could only draw him into his friendship, by iamiliari'y and daily exercising him in conversation, he could easily ensnare him by the same allurements bv which he hud caught others. These allurements wore, something to gratify the favorite passion of each individual. To some he held out the temptation of great wealth, but more especial ly their promotion to high offices of honor and profit, which Cicero and his favorites were en joying tn great excess, whilst ilioy had been entirely overlooked. (Sallust on the Catiline Conspiracy.) Mr. Calhoun a man of considerably mind clso; not however equal to Callline’s, if we are to believe Sallust. But in his assiduity to conciliate his political opponents, or making new political cenverts, and attaching them to his party, be is as happy as ever Catiline was; and by the same means. Some private cor ner or retired chamber, are the great theatres in which he makes his most faithful tuillifiers. There he unfolds the beauties of nullification! tells how General Jackson and his few favor ites are enjoying all the high offices, and how improperly he has overlooked the high claims of the subject he is then operating on And should lie, Mr. Calhoun, be elected the next president his claims shall be attended io These are facts which can be established whenever Mr. Calhoun will deny them, Catiline had seduced into his conspiracy, many Romans of Senatorial dignity, and many men of figure, from the different provinces. Mr. Calhoun has seduced into his nullifica tion, many Americans of Senatorial dignity, and men offigure, from the different States. Cauline, when preparing to plunge his country into a civil war, and blotting the de struction of Cicero, addressed his party in the following manner: I have engaged in an enterprize of the high est importance and greatest glory. And my ardor daily increases to put it in execution when I consider the burdens and oppression, which the despots of oui country have doom rd us to bear, unless we can recover our liber ty. Since the government has come under tlio control and management of a few, we are nothing but a sorry mob, we have no interest; we have no power; but we are the slaves of those to whom we should be a terror, were the State in its due vigor. All sway, preferment, interest, and riches are now in their hands, < r those of their fav ntea; to os they left nothing but dangers, the terror of tribunals, and the buffeting of poverty. How long will you tamely submit to these indignities? Js it not better to die in a brave attempt than io drag a wietched and infamous life ? We have nothing; our condition is bad and our expecta tion much worse; Finally, what have we left but i wretched life? Rouse then inaction ! behold the object you have so often wish* d foi ' behold liberty ! and in her train, glory and honor. In this great cause I (isle for no power. you may use me as you please; I have no choice, you may make me you. leader, or, if you prefer it, you may place me in the ranks as a private soldier But place me where you w ill, I shall al ways be with you. They have persecuted and reviled me; they have du- | prived me of the honor due rny public services; j and they have raised the most profligate aecu- j sation ./gainst me, because 1 li ive according to ; mv known habit, undertaken to defend the \ cause of the oppressed. L'or we have no de*ire j for power or riches: Liber yis our aim; that I m-rty which no biavc m m will lose but with ns life. We call Gods and men to witness, mt we have not taken up arms against our .untry or any particular person, but to defend os'lves from oppression. Wherefore wc mjore you to espouse the imersls «f your retched fellow- citizens, to restore to us the relection of the laws, .orn from us by the >ne , ity of the Consult?. (Cicero was then fust Consul.) At tho conclusion ol Lis address, he added; Ul spero vo'iiscum ano consul agam; nisi forte ■ lie animus jallit, el vos service magis, im ne.rare, parati ti eslis. (Translated will read:) Hut 1 hope to act as Consul with you in this enterprise, if, I am not deceived in my opinion of y oU t unless you should prefer slavery to em pire, (Sec Sallust, on the Catiline conspira cy•) Mr, Calhoun about a year ago crossed over mto Georgia, to instruct the good people of that State in the science of nullification. And whilst there was invited bv his pupils to dina with them. This he declined from extreme delicacy, of winch he is so highly girted, in a written answer. The following is extracted from that answer. He says: Perceiving, as 1 elearlv did, several rears ago, a strong tendency in the Federal govern ment to substitute its will in the place of the constitution; and firmly believing that faction, anarchy,*corruption and despotism would be the result, I felt’it a sacred and paramount du ty to the country to oppose so fatal a tendency with every faculty that providenc had bestow ed oo me. Nor did I doubt that with a view of weakening me, and thro’ me, the cause, charges the most profligate would be made a gainst me, however pure and disinterested might be my motives. With this view, and in order to demonstrate, as far as acts could do, that i sought no lead, nor any personal advan tages, he declined the invitation. Should our constitution and liberty be restored, 7 asfcno more. I shall be sattisfied be my fate ivhat it may. But until they are restored, J hold my self nothing and the cause in which 1 am en* gaged every thing. I utter it under painful but solemn conviction of its tr ’th, f'tar we are no longer a free people. Ii belongs to slaves and not freemen, to measure their servitude by the tyranny actually felt The govern ment has assumed a despotic poxver. Its progress will soon be traced in blood. The pressure of despotic power will first fall on us; and if we do not meet it, with tho determined spirit ol freemen, ready to sacrifice all rather than surrender our liberty, our doom will bo fixed forever. In denouncing these odious acts, my object is to arouse you to a spee dy rescue of vour liberty and the consti tution. (Sse this answer in the Columbia Tel escope, Sept. 17th, 1833.) Mr. Calhoun did not say to his Georgia put pils: That he hoped to act as presiden with them in that enterprise, if ho was not de ceived in his opinion of them, unless they should prefer slavery to empire. But het might as well have said so, fur every body knows he intended it. I will here cease the analogy between tfmso two devoted lovers of civil liberty: One •» Roman Patrician, who would have over whelmed the Roman Republic in civil blood, to glut his ambition; and iho o'hcr, mi Ameri can Senator, who would have broken this U i ion into flmders, at the price of blood, for tiio same object. I cannot ptwceive iti the portal ten I history of -* Caessr and Mr. Calhoun, that ha possesses a single attribute of Caesar’s character, except his lust for power; and even in that, there are many shades of distinction. With this single remark 1 pass on to the history of the memo rable Robespierre, and see if there be any similiarity in the political career of these two 1 modern lovers of civil liberty. This enquiry will be short, as the leading traits in both are fresh in the recollection of most of our countrymen. I he analogy in the political history of Jfjr. Calhoun and Rolespieri'e are strongly marked. For I will ask, who can imagine any essential , difference between Rolespterre’s Guillotine, and Calhoun's Test Oath-, one, the instrument of immediate death; the other, the instrument J of protracted tortu e? Both constructed for the same nurpose, to pavo the way, of the respec tive parties lo supreme-jnrwer. Ro|e«pierre. the cool-blooded tyrant, ae he is called Mr. Russell, the historian, and hi«r coadjutors, Mural and Danton, were the men who defeated the mild government proposed by the immortal La Fayette. They Were over heated Republicans. Civil liberty, and relief from oppression and desposition wore their constancy. The streets of Paris ro sounded with it, until they placed themselves j at the head of the national convention, and formed the J icobin dubs, which sealed the fate of the Republic, and brought revolutions- , iy, France back to a state of absolute despo tism. Under the influence of these Jacobin clubs, the. National Convention itself became a mere instrument n> toe hands of Robespier e; Danton was appointed minister of Justice; ’ and the “execrable Marat,” concurred tn all their wickedness. Armed with this power, they began the work of destruction. They considered it among their reserved rights, to butcher every man who stood in th* ir way to Empire. H bi<-h they did with an unspar ing hand; until they gorged the very mob winch sustained them, with mno- tut numan blood. Robespierre, Murat tmd Danton were A all members of the French Convention, and ” whilst at its head, they spill more tinman blood, in franco, to establish their party, whilst th® ciy was for civil liberty, than was spill at th® ten years seige of Troy; until by th®tr wanton and murderers cruelties, they called down the vengeance of insulted humanity upon their own heads, and perished by the instrument they had prepared for the destruction of those who obs ructed their march to that throne which Napoleon snatched from their grasp, to give respite to a people borne down by th® tyranny of their own representatives. (see 4 Modern Europe.) Mr. Calhoun and his coadjutors have pro claimed to the world, in a public law enacted by a nullifying legislature, tn the face of the constitution, that it is among their reserved rights, to exact from every citizen, elected to a military office, a T est Oath, an oath to compel every freeman who shall refuse to subscribe to the supremacy of nullification and | the itJfal’tbilt’y of its unosiles, to rcf.ro to ob”