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A. 0.-MTJERAY,
VOLUME X.
THE AMERICAN UNION,
Published every Saturday Morning,
rti r .mm A Or. MXTriXiAY.
OFFICE ON ISUOAIJ STREET, WEST FNIi THE NEW BRICK
RANGE —! I* STAIRS.
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A.A. Ii A I'l.lnN(■. “ 1 ini|iiiv Stall".” >
A <•■ MI UI!A V. “ Anmi i’ Mii l iiion.”
MISCEIXANKOI'N.
V r*tn t!. Spirit .*1 ?In A
LIFE IN GLIMPSES.
“ f’.ftwixt tw v i | >• lit* h*.\. i- 1 U* ; • ’ i.
I vvi.x! iiiifiit aii-t jufm i*. ‘‘j ”i ; in l I ■/’ ‘■ v • 1 - *
I • i l<; \ .
N A N N 1 I. N I! A i. I*.
A , IM.lt MAW- ? l 1 i;v.
lam a bachelor! Den t smile or |u— jii'h/meiit
rasl.lv u| ion in.* 1 must tell why lam wlmt Imu
I can scarcely reniemher When my 1 i1 her r- nmv-
C<l to tlir new village of Urn. kullo li seem- too
that there is a dim r ‘liieiul eranee of an *>i-! home
hythel'ke It is all vague, dim. and an “ft.; t.
however. Vet I sometimes find lintel with
me a vision of an old brown hoihli. g with elms in
front and a sleepy lake down in the vale, and micli.
1 have heard my father say, was our old home
These impressions seem to me as much like dreams
as realities, and no wonder either, for the footsteps
of long years have marched over them, lint Ido
remember distinctly a broad river that we < mssed
on our way to our new home, that is the most dis
tinct of all—its silvery waves flashing around the
flat we crossed over on are not to lie forgotten.
The streets of Brookville were not cleared of
stumps when he entered a little cottage on the
main street. There was a newness and a fresh,
ness about everything there. It was not long be
fore it began to assume a busy character as new
Bettlers came in, and new stores and simps w ent up.
My father was a bricklayer, and 1 carried some of
the brick and mortar that went in what is now
called the “old court-house at BrunkvilJe.” The
■court-house at Rrookville isoi n, ami I helped rear
its brown walls ! Time flies!
Among others wiio came to Rrookville was a
man named XeiiTL He had been a in reliant in
one of the seaport cities, hut failing by injudicious
speculations he had retired with tiie little wreck
of his fortune to the new village, either t>> recruit,
or to spend the evening of his life in ijttiet I nev
er knew which. He had been a hard drinker dur
ing the last few years—the demon in the .wine
.glass had been the main rock on which lie wreck
ed his all: and his wife he left in the city, in the
graveyard behind the steeple church—sent there
by his abuse and cruelty. So said an old shoe
maker who came with Neall front the city
Nannie Neall was like a bright star gleaming in
the stormnight above the clouds. She was the
only child of the coiner, and a lovely being she
was! Site was just my age. or nearly, not ipiitc
—from April to June was the difference. I believe.
Neall managed to get a house within a few rods
of ours; and he. with his daughter, a sour old
dame of a housekeeper, and the old shoemaker,
both of whom came with him. constituted hisfatn
ilj*
Nannie and I were not long in becoming fast
friends; we met one sunny afternoon down in the
clearing on the brooksidc, after which the village
was named, and thM'e for a full hour we played
‘captive's base’ among the broad walnut and imp
lar stumps that stood like watching mmin* is in
the vale.
The very next day we went together on the hills
with our baskets and gathered whurtiebd rics and
talked and played among .I he ris ks : and when we
grew tired she sat and told me of her mother -of
how she used to.weep while she sat at her feet
end then died in the cold.night with consumption
and broken heart, and that the priest said she went
to heaven to live with the Virgin and Angela. I
have since thought b ‘ that tier mother was per
haps a Catholic, hut of this I am not certain.
Neall put up a tavern in Rrookville. and the new
settlers gathered there and drank, in member
the first night there was a great noise and laugh
ing, and fiddling, and dancing, and singing there,
and I thought it was something that must he very
nice, but my mother told me it was a wick- 1 place
®ljr AutrTx£aa Uniua.
and that I must never go there. I wished my
! mother had not told me that, for Nannie was there
and she was my best friend.
Years passed as others had, and Nannie and I
grew up ; she was one of the loveliest creatures of
female beauty I had ever seen. All said she was.
She was as gentle as the whisperings of the white
winged zephyrs among the April flowers, and as
! pure as the lilly that bent beneath the summer
I breeze the kiss of the rippling waves of the mead
|ow rill: and yet she was reared among the wrecks
! of a father's fortunes, and had heard, time after’
time, the jest and ribaldry of drunken men around
the bar her father kept.
I Nannie was happily in possession of the virtues
which ennoble and beautify woman’s character.—
•'lie was kind and cheerful; neither wild or mel
ancholy, yet the lovely calm of her countenance
was tinged with a shade of sadness-—motion, look,
tone and deed, were gentle as the spring-time sun
beams shimmering among the- garden li iwvrs.--
Nunnie .Vail was the loved one in lhvokville.
I loved her when wo were children-playing on
Copse and heath—on rock and deli : and now, that
we were grown, 1 loved her with all the passion
ate idolatry oitny young manhood. Not a whis
per ol love had ever passed our lips: and yet the
secret was written in and fondly cherished by
each bidden heart. All! we were happy in this I
secret heart worship. We were open together, in ;
the wild notik where we had gathered berries when
children : along the brook where the waves danced
o'er their pebbly path that led to the river: in the
old woods where, the oak and pine pointed their
taper spires up to heaven, we rambled, and dream
ed. and loved in silence, with none but nature with
us. lor hours we lia\e sat on the brook brink
watching the frisking tisli gliding like golden crea
tures among the crystal waves, and the clear wave
lets hastening away, and the mellow sunlight
trembling on the tree tops and lading away behind
the h lis. and all the time we felt that our hearts
held sweet converse in breathless whispers, and
thus a holy tie was weaving woof and weh into
, our life and hopes, and destinies.
(*ld Ncall hceame aware of our growing inti
macy and became enraged. One evening when 1
’ had gone to spend a few hours with Nannie at her
home - (tavern as it was I could no hanger stay a
wuy) the old man came to the little sitting room
where we were, and sternly ordered me away. 1
arose and a tear drop hung on Nannie's ey lid. I
took my hat. and as 1 went out the old man sang
, “Ut alter me- -non t Alilui.K !’
Til*- old housekeeper flatted her ugly face against
‘ the glass door between the two rooms and echoed
the chorus hod carrier !’
1 lie old shoemaker stopped hammering his lea
t hi r as I went out. and spoke low and said that lie
wi it id see me that evening.
I t o rabble in the dramshop, through which 1
h ad to j mss. caught the notes of the derisive taunt
and shouted it titter me: ‘hod carrier!’ The in
terna! taunt rings in my ears yet.
Tint evening the old shoemaker saw me. and
told me that Nannie loved me and we shou and see
each other clandestinely. I thanked him. and
through his interference Nannie ami 1 met almost
every day and talked and loved.
And in this way wo spent some of our happiest
hours, dreaming of the bliss that was to be ours
in a few short months, for when the summer pass,
ed we were to be married. Love with us was now
a reality, and in the solitudes about Rrookville we
dreamed of its bliss, as, together, we watched the
drifting of the white clouds riding on the blue
ocean of the sky.
Our dreams were like the clouds! A cloud was
in ora sky with its storm in its bosom too, hut we
| saw it not!
* * * * * * * *
Christmas day we were to be married. None
knew it. however, except the old shoemaker and
Rob Lincoln. Bob was to convey her to a neigh
boring house in his new sleigh and 1 was to meet
him th< re w itii the \il|age Parson. Such was the
arrangement.
The day E Ere Christmas the hills and houses 1
were white with snow. Brookville was till life
|
for the enjoyments of the scuson. That morning ;
two strangers appeared in our midst. None knew j
from whence they came. 1 met them on the i
streets early in the day. I disliked their looks and !
turned aside. There was a lurking look of sin ;
lingering about the face ol the eldest —a heartless,
brutal looking wretch. The younger appeared j
but little better.
All day long the revel increased in and about
Neall's house. Once-or twice there came near be
ing a tight. Just after sundown. I met Bob Lin-1
coin running towards my father's house at full;
speed. I had not time to ask him a single ‘idea
tion. There was the wildest terror flashing from
the brave young man’s eye. ‘Run with mo to
Neall's—run, dreadful times there.’ and lie grasp
ed my arm and started to drag me. I tore myself
from his gra s p and bounded away with him.
Hist! the wind blows now just as it shrieked by
my ears as I ran up the snow covered street of
Brookville on that fatal evening. Draw your chair
closer ; 1 wish to speak in whispers now. Within
Neall's house, when we reached it this was the
scene:
The old housekeeper stood with her chapped
hands folded in Iter yellow apron with her face
flattened against a pane of the glass door looking
into rtic tavern. A few of the village sots were
staggering around the room, or half dotting on the
pine benches at the fire; the old shoemaker seem
ed pleading with Neall, who was nearly drunk, to
revoke some decree of his; and my own Nannie
was struggling in the arms of the oldest of the two
strangers, while the other stood a little way off
grinning with grim satisfaction ! My blood boil
ed in every knotted vein! When I sprang into
the arena, old Ncall stammered out in drunken
slang :
“o. tin! Mister Hod Carrier, I've s#i.n Nan to
a city gentleman!’ and he held up a roleau of gold
coin. Alow laugh gurgled up from the throat of
the infernal purchaser.
Nannie sold!
“Prove all thigt; hold fast that which i* good.”
GRIFFIN, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 11, 1853.
I grew dissy—the room, with its tragedy, seem
ed to whirl around with me. I heard the familiar
voice of the old shoemaker cry out,‘Mr. Ncall,
how can you barter your own pure child away to
a libertine, whose heart is to day as black as any
in purgatory, after promising your poor dead wife
to be both father and mother to the dear child !’
A drunken curso came up from the hot lungs of
the father against the shoemaker and his own
child : ‘better that than the wife of an infamous
HOD CARRIER !’
1 saw the old woman's pittied face grinning
through the glass. And then I saw the mild blue
eyes of my poor, half distracted Nannie almost
starting from their sockets, and her right hand,
that was free from the monster's gra-p, held out
imploringly to me for help: she screamed my name
I rushed to her rescue. Bob Lincoln was before
me.
Draw year chair closer.
Old Neall was'enrngod that we should dare to
rescue bis child from the infamy to which ho had
sold liar, and grasping the old shoemaker's ham
mer from the bench, he hurled it ut us. The wot
pon flew close bv Bob's ear and struck the head of
my poor Nannie! With aI av murmur of mother.
mother ! she stink in my arms to the floor. The
two strangers lied forever front Brookville. I call
ed again and again to Nannie to tell me she had
not tied from earth to heaven, but she kept Iter
lilutrcyerflxed upon mo. and a changeless smile
rested upon her jump face. And all this time tin
old housekeeper kept her hideous face pressed a
gainst the glass grinning through at the seem
And old Neall stood with his arms folded, clutch
ing in one hand the roleau ot gold. I called again
and again to Nannie, and tike a child whispered
in Iter ear that I loved her still, but the change
less smile was the only answer. I held her head
in my arms have and wept. The old shoemaker
ran and brought the village surgeon lie came
and kneeled down by her on the tavern floor, and
took her pale listnd in his I loved him more than
ever for bidding it so softly and tenderly, examin
ining the livid spot halt bid by her auburn hair,
where the hammer had struck. I could bear it
no longer. 1 whispered. ‘Doctor, is Nannie gone,’
1 could not say dead, hut worse!
‘And lie laid his slender finger significantly on
his noble brow.
Boh Lincoln, the Doctor and the old shoemaker
carried Nannie from the tavern to the Doctors
home and I followed.
And the blood of the victim fell drop by drop on
the pure white snow.
The next day old Neall went to eternity. The
Angel of Retribution had watched his steps and
had marked his last going out. The shalt ot the
Dale Archer had struck him to vex and then de
stroy. In the battle strife with the demons of
deuru’M tiu mens lie was overcome, and hisspirit.
shrieking with fears, went to be judged by Him
who weighs Immortality in the eternal balances
of Truth.
He was buried beneath the snow-web that lay
on the yard behind the village church and no one
in Brookville wept.
Day after day I watched nt the bedside of poor
Nannie whispered to her and wet her dry lips
with water. She mostly lay with her languid eyes
closed, but when she did open them they stared out
at me with such terror that 1 shrank from them.
And she would point her finger at nic. and call mo
a monster, and command me to carry her back to
Brookville, to her own dear . <)h ! how
agonizing that was ! To hear her call my own
name and link it with the fondest endearments,
yet look upon me as the one who had bartered gold
for her loveliness!
Thus days and nights passed: and the faithful
surgcnri till the time endeavoring to call back her
wandering mind.
It was all in vain !
The cloud that had drifted in our summer sky
had burst upon us in a winter's storm that knew
no spring time in life !
My ppor h veil and Inst Nannie Neall! She sits
in the broad fleck of sunbeams that fall through
her window in one of the little rooms at the It
Asylum, a harmless, dreaming Li nuk !
And there she will sit and chatter to her bird
and her straws until the g"od Angels beckon her
away.
1 have sat by her side in that neat little cell,
looking into her dreamy eyes, many a lonely hour,
but she has never known me!
‘She sometimes calls to her kind-hearted matron
and bids her ‘take the stranger away !’
And I have sometimes seen tears in that kind
hearted woman’s eyes as I have departed, at the
same time urging her to treat poor Nelly kindly.
And now. fair readers, do you wonder that 1 am
si bachelor?’
Relieve this : for me then never was-but one
Nannie Neall, and she yet lives, but a Maniac
lit m did till this!
And fur this I hate it—help me hate it!
And when the old man and poor dreaming Nan
nie go down, to the grave, as they soon must, teach
YOUR CHILDREN TO HATE IT !
My Husband—A Life Sketch.
My husband is a very strange man. To think
lie could have grown so provoked about such a
little thing as that scarlet scarf! Well, there is
no use in trying to drive hitn ; I've settled that
in my mi nek Hut he can be coaxed—can't be,
though ! and from this,time shan’t I know how
to manage him ! Still there is no denying, Mr.
Adams is a strange man.
You see it was this morning nt breakfast, I
said to him, “Henry, I must have one of those
ten dollar scarfs at Stewart’s. They are perfect
ly charming, and will correspond so nicely with
my maroon velvet cloak. I want to go this morn
ing and get one before they are gone.
“Ten dollars don't grow on every bush, Ade
line ; and just now times are pretty hard, you
know,” he answered, in a dry careless kind of
tone, which irritate.) hie greatly. Besides that,
I knew he could afford to get me the scarf just as
well as not, only, perhaps, my manner of request
ing it did not quite suit his .lordship.
‘(ientlemen who can afford to buy satin vce'.*
at ten dollars a piece ran have no motive but
pemtrinusness for objecting to give their wives as
much for a scarf,’ I retorted, glancing at the mo
ney, which, n few moments before, ho had laid
bv ?*iv plate, requesting me to procure one for
him, lie always trusts me in these matters. I
spoke angrily, and should have been sorry fo* it
tbe next moment, if lie had not answered.
£)Yoii will then charge it to my ponurioitsness,
i I suppose, when I t<il you that you can net have
another ten dollars.’
‘Well, then. I “ili/tuhe this and get a scarf.—
N on cun do without the vest this bill,’ a id 1 took
1 tip the bill and left the room, lor lie did not nn
j swer me.
! I need it and 1 inns! have it ! was my mental
I observation. a< 1 washed niv te.M-wolleu eyes and
j adjusted tov hair for a walk on Broadway; but
l aU ‘'ie while there was a whimpering at my
j heart : ‘l'o tet and > it. < to’ and lav the v. st for
I _V"i . h'lsbai. 1 and at hot that ins . r voire tri
-1 umpla-d. 1 went down totl.u tailor's, bought
t the vul. at. 1 brought it hone-.
‘i len i’ : Henry; I selected ;1. • .’..i That !
! thought w.-H'd -nit you be-t. I -n’t it rich?’ I
-aid.as 1 mif-dibit tin \a-1 aft. i dinner: for some
how, IIIX’ pc’do “a- :.:! gun ‘. I bid-f. !t -0 much
j haj pi.-r since tk ■ -ca.rhad b ow ••!■•■ n up, :
! 1!.- did tc.t at; -a r !•(.’ tl u wMidi a
•look o! ti-iobon. ss t..!i. his dark —ry T -'. as lit
*ips f.!! on nn li’ ! . ! that it v.as a- m::< ha-
I could do ti, I, p li tn oning • at liMit.
Dtit the or,'am id’ the ‘ax is not-tobl yet. —
.At , \.'. ii !. :iu- to h> threw
i a li'bc bu-idlc into my lap. 1 opened it. and!
tin re was ti.. -cmt ,o!’. t! v,-i x one I set mv
he.ii! on at S'.-wait’s \i st, rd.v.
H Ml, II HEX !’ ■ Isa up a;..; Uylup
!to til,,id; him, bat mv hns tivuibhd, and tin
! tear- da-in ,1 ov, r tin- cv, l i lies and lie drew toy
| head to hi- heart and smoothed ibu'li my cuilij,
1 and initrmui-. and the oh! ining words in my eai,
1 wh.b- ! ,-tii ■! tb : a!■ - tl , but itu tear
] were m; h- “, :, t
! lie is ast Imull, in\ hu-Laud, but he is a
! noble one to . old > it is a little hard to tigd it
j out -oini-titu• s; Mill it -1-,-ins to me that in’ heart
-av u m i-arnc-: !v to-night than it ever did
h-f it and bh-s 1 111 11!
POLITICAL.
Foreign Influence.
The following is a part of a letter recently
written” by lion. Jure. Clemens hate C. S. Sena
tor from Alabama, giving his reasons for advo
cating tin 1 iuii-C oI the Alltel man l'ai ly.
In the autumn of lst'.l bather ..Mathew, an
Irish Driest, who had acquired great celebrity
as a Temperance lecturer, paid a visit to the
United States, lie came to Washington and a
resolution was at once introduced to allow him
the | .iv'.!■ go of the floor of the Senate. This
was opposed by Mr. ('alhoim on the ground that
it was lowering the dignity of the Senate, and
cheapening its honors, liy myself and others
upon the •ftTithcr ground that he had while in
Ireland indulged in ih iiuiicintions of slavery and
taken-part with- tin: ‘Abolitionists against the
Soutli, which I c a.si,] ied an tin warrantable in
tennoddi: ng .with mutt.-is that, in no way eon -
ccrin-d liini. Nit \ itlistanding these objections
the ii’ ninth n pa— Iby ad r.idcd majority:, and
lather Mat Lew -took las. at upon tin* floor of
the Nutate. Not long jittorwaids (o-neral bil
low. who bore upon b - prison the Inaiks oHioii
oralde wounds recently* received in the service of
the licpuldie, visited \\ iishington, and found, to
his iTiortilicutiuii no doubt, that the place which
had been occupied bv a Catholic Driest was in
aceessidile to him, a native born American, and
late a Major ( o-nerfd in the wars of his Country.
Nor was h-: ah me a sufferer. Kvcry officer who
served in the Mexican war, not a member of Con
bjress, or an existing State Legislature, was in
like manner excluded, witli perhaps tbe single
exception ~: f.b n. Seiu ho hid received a-pccial
vote of thanks during the war of LSlg. which of
itself entitled him to admission. It will not do
to tell tnit that iv-pe.-t for the cause of t.-m er
j ance produ -d this astoni-hing result. ’J lie ('on
j gress ot the l . S, are not ivumikabT.-asTUseiples
| ot temperance, and that yciv and tv there were per
j haps not six Member.-.of tim S, mile who did not
drink wine at i!;i,i;,-r, m In , before.
T he Iri-Ii vote was tbe Coni! ,!ling eau-e—(ho
de-ire to ci,mail do tli.it latge !,,„]v of naturaliz
ed citizens who inok-a.l up to I at In i Mat lie w. as
a superior being. 1’ wa-lbis--w4tttji gnVc-to tbe
Foreigner and the < ‘atlndie air impm lance above
and beyond that, of the soldiery whose blood had
brain, poured out like water on the-plain* of Mex
ico. It was this “hej* induced the Senate to
forget what it had been—to throw a-ide the-se
verodignity which hrrd sothvatrd Them in tlnr
iniuds of men, and to exchange the character of
1 touian sages for that of -mile s.ve< [diaiiis. There
was a tin.,: when that high body was composed
of’sterner stuff’. There “as a time when such
a proposition Would have been treated with the
scorn - it deserved. HarthntTvrrj'i ,'rArmthe'frbfr
Kxodtts. Now if we venture to question foreign
merit it must by done witli bated ‘breath.’ If ve
Ventura to deny any foreign demand, however
imperious, \vcare threatened with political anni
hilation, and yet I am told we are in no danger
from foreign influence. When the Senate of
the United States has lieut before the storm
where are we to look for that public virtue
which is sturdy enough to rc-i-t it ?
The other case to which I allude was still
more outrageous. L. lx -utli bad been aetivelx
engaged in exci iuga revolution in Hungary, hut
when the hour of tea! came he shrunk from the
danger he-hud evoked ami flying aero-s the fron
tier he took refuge beneath the <.‘rescent of the
l urk. An immense unionist of sympathy was
at once manufhe'nr, <1 tor him, and our U,merri
ment, not to lx- I > bind the public expectation,
dispatched a vessel of war to bring bun to our
shor. s. Os .course t hi- was done under the spe
cious name of sympathy for struggling freedom.!
But if there had h rjtt no Herman votes in the j
United States lam very much inclined to the
opinion that sympathy would have expended it-j
self in some le-s e,,stlv manner. But not satis- 1
fled with JbUiiging him here buth,,branches of |
Congress passed a resolution inviting hitn to,
Washington, lie came in aTTthe poinp which I
surrounds the Monarch.* of the old world—arin-|
ed Guards paraded before his door to keep off,
the vulgar populace. And. we who would not|
not hare tolerated such conduct for one hour in
the President of the Republic, not only submit
milled to it on tbe part of this foreign mendi
cant, but actually invited him within tlio bar of
the Senate. He entered with all hi* guard about
hitn. The clank of Foreign sabres awaked the
echoes in the vestibule of the Senate, and nn
eager crowd of Hcpuhlicun* looked on with won
dering admiration at the pageant. If the dead
are permitted to witness events upon Earth what
in list have been the feelings of the stern Fathers
of the Republic when they saw the velvet uni
forms of a Foreign body guard witliin ‘.lie snored
precincts of tbe Senate 1 ix*t us suppose them
gathered about tbe immortal Washington, ns
thev wore wont to gather in tho days that tried
inon’s soul’s, gazing in sorrow nod silence upon
the di-graceful spectacle. There is X\ arren.
<lron, Sumpter, Marion, Lee, Fliclbv, Williams,
j Wayne ami a hundred cithers of tho might}
dead. Tin ‘ remember that it was German can
tmn that thinned their ranks nt Mud Fort and
Red Bank. Thev remember that German shouts
rang over the field of Brand'w ine. They re
member that German bay ,nets weredirnm I with
i patriotic blond nt Monmouth. T he", remember
j < ‘liads ford, and < hews house, and many another
li,-!,!- where tbex met the hired mercenaries that
Kngland’s gold had brought across the Atlantic
to fasten manacles upon a people who had never
injured them, and remembering this they turn
to each other witli the mournful inquiry, “are
j these our sons ? are tin* traditions of the revolu
tion alien,Tv forgotten ?” Alt 1 shade* of depart
jrrl Patriots, there i-imn figureTif power in our
j land of which in vur d.iv \<m did not dream.
T here are a few hundred thousand German vot
er- atm tig us. ami every I ‘cinligoguewho aspires
t ,i’ e I'(.-or, :n„l * li.-iit. - that glim
mer about him tmevieing with each other in
| base conct's-iotSto German pride and German
.feeling. But Urn picture is a sickening otic an I
*1 turn from it. Go! knows il was hitter enough
at the time, and I lia'e no wish to dwell upon it
anew.
Not satisfied with the honors ‘neaped upon
i Kossuth, G,ingress determined to extend to him
! more ‘material aid.’ Mr. Seward discovers tlini
he was a Nation's guest, and introduced a Bill
assuming his expense as a National debt. The
account turned out to be somewhat extravagant.
This plain republican inartVf’to liberty only liv
ed at tbe rate ot tp/iOO per day. Consuming in
the twenty-four hours t Tiampagne and Buigutis
dy which cost more than it would take to feed
•a respectable family in North Alabama, for a
twelve month. At that very moment there were
lulls upon the f'alander for the relief of destitute
W idows and < •rpliatis, w hose husbands had died
in defence of the country, which Congress lots
not had time to attend to even to this day. Not
so wi'li Kossuth—he drank his wine—eat his
/Mttrx defvi* t/’fte, and Congress instantly footed
the Bill. Ito you ask the reason! I answer
widow.- and children have no votes. The For
eigners who w ere to be conciliated by adulation
of Kossuth, bad nianv. (tillers will say it was.
not Kossuth but Ids cause—that lie had been
battling for freedom and they wished to mark
their appreciation of bis efforts. Asa tribute
to the spirit of Liberty i’ might have been well
enough if wi* had not been so lamentably de
ficient in paying that tribute to our ow n citizens.
W lien general.laekson had driven the British ar
my from New Orleans, ami rescued the country
from one of tin* most terrible dangers with which I
it was ever threatened, lie wan arrested in the
very hour of his triumph and heavily fined for
the rigorous discharge of liis duty ; and yet Con
gress permitted more than a quarter of a centu
ry to roll away without aeknowlodging the wrong
or attempting to repair it. He was a Native
American—there was no Foreign sympathy in
Ii is behalf—no foreign voles to conciliate. When
Gen. Houston returned to tin* United Slates
with the iatuel* of San Jacinto fresh upon his
brow, bringing an empire in his hands to lay at
our feet, iiu. -Coitgressial mvitatinn* Celebrated
j his arrival. No lulls were passed to pay his ex
penses. lb* was a Native American and noth
ing was to 1,,- gained bv laudations of his chiv
alry or liis patriotism. When Gen. Scott had
concluded one ot the most wonderful campaigns
ever recorded in hi-torv, lie was recalled almost
in disgrace, and liis army, which lie had found
untrained militia and converted into veteran lie-1
roes, “cvs transferred to one of hi* subordinate*.
- <>f -viiquit hv, ap
: plied no balm to the wounded feelings of tile
j mat'cldcss soldier, lb* was a Native American
j and the voice of condolence’ was mute. Had
j General Shields received similar treatment a
j howl would have been raised from one end of
j the continent to the other, and half the. tongues
; in Congress would have grown weary lamenting
! hi- wrongs.
-j Whit these fee's before rue, and nil know
i them to In* fads, I must he pardoned, for main
! tabling that tin-re is danger from foreign iiiflu
} dice, -a in 1 the -ooict it is boldly met the bet
j ter.
-
Temporal Power of the Pope.
Tbe Warren t on (North Carolina) News says;—
•We have recieved ami publish below, a letter
j from Mr.O. A. Browtmon, of Browtison’s Review,
!(A Roman Catholic) to a citizen of this place,
who had written to Mr. B. requesting the num
bers of his Review wherein lie maintained the
civil authority of the Pope in this country. The
consent of Mr. B. lias been obtained to make
what use of it may be deemed proper, although
it was not written for the public eve. ibit as
, Mr. Branch has u**-d the letter in tins canvass wo
think it best to publish-it entire.
. ‘Boston, Jim*? 12, 18.">, r >.
| Mi Jjutr Sir: I have received this moment
j yours of the 7th inst., with its enclosure. lam
j a.little at a loss to determine what course to
’ take. There are no numbers of my Review
i wherein I have maintained the civil authority of
! the Pope in. this country, but as there are sever
ed numbers in which I have discussed the rela
tions of the two orders!—temporal and spirtiu
i al!—I think I shall, upon the whole, best answer
your wishes by sending them. I will therefore
j order my publisher to send you all the numbera :
j for 183. T and THS4.
j You will find in the article* entitled ‘Two Or
, <hr” January, IHST, ‘Thr S/eirilwil not ths Tern- j
I pornl ’ April, and ‘Tfu S]iirilHat Supreme,’ July,
j of the same years, the statement of my doctrine j
|on the subject: and in “ Yon go too For,” Jan- 1
j nary, 1854, “ Thr Tnnjnrnl Power of the Pope,” j
April, 1854, and “ UnrleJaci ond A*> Xrpktir,” |
Editor and Proprietor.
for October, of the same year, my explanation
and defence of my doctrine.
May I ask you to read these articles'm llieor
•lcr in which I have named them ? If you will,
although you will doubtless find much which, if
nor,-Catholic, you will obj**et to. I am snre vou
will find no such doctrine a- farn accused of hold
ing. The subject T treat has been much obscur
ed by controversy, and I am iinbG to misappre
hension bv those who have not studied it some
what profoundly from the CaT.hidie point in view.
I heat the subject only urtfl'-r ecr’ain aspect*and
f,r Catholics, and many of the term* I use have
in Catholic theology a technical sense, which
tho-e not familiar with theology may misnpppre
licnd. I say this in excuse • f those who have
mi-:eprescnted me.
t ri.'iim (and never have claim'd for the Pope,
out of the Ecclesiastical S'ates of which he is the
temporal sovereign) no tm; r;’ or civil jurisdic
tion. power, or authority, pro perl v so called.—
The only power the Pope has in this country is
hi-* power over Cat holies a* the -piiitunl head of
the church. It is pnrelv spiritna* power, and can
I !*r*d only for a"spiritual end, nnd even
then only over Catholics, for the church does
not judge tho-e who ar ■ without.
In matters purely temporal, I, ns a Catholic,
owe no obedience to the Pope, because he li.aa
rercived from Jcstt* (Tiri'-t no nn horitv ns a tem
poral sovi reign over me. He cannot make or
undertake tin* rights of the sow reign or the dti
ties of the subject - abrogate tl: ft rmcr or ab
solve from fatten
So f.ir til! Catholics, whether the ;o called ul
tra Montanos, or the so-called Galliennsj aro
agreed. The dispute lies n< ! hern. All agreC
that the State is supreme and independent in its
ow ti order—that is to say, in the temporal order.—
But what I maintain i-, that the temporal order
is not supreme ajxl itidej oi.di ii', tail in the very
nature of tilings subordinated to the spiritual,
since tlie end of man—the end for which God
made him, directs and govern* .him bv liis Pro
vidence —lies ui the spiritual order, not in the
temporal. Kvcry man who In ! i-v.■ - any religion
■at all, whether Catholic, or noli-Catholic, doca
and mtlstmulinit this; fin it is'only saving that
wc must obey God rather than nun, and liw: for
I the Creator rather than the creature. This pre
mised, I think I enn state to vou in a few words
the doctrine I do really hold.
Inasmuch ns thr Inn pornl order is ndordin
ti tr to the spiritual, it folloirs that thr state is
untlrr thr law of justice ; constipuulhj the prince
hohls his /surer* as a trust, not as an indefeasible
right, and therefore forfeits them when lie abuses
them and loses liis right to reign. This is the
common doctrine held by all of ns Americans,
and all Catholic doctors teach, and always have
ianglit.it. It lies at the foundation of all true
liberty, and is the only doctrine that cfln ever
justify resistance to the temporal power*. Right
of resistance of power, when it becomes tyranni
cal and oppressive, I take it for granted is held
by every American.
But here is a difficulty. The < ‘hiircb, follow
ing the Holy Scriptures, makes civil allegiance
a religious duty, and says w ith Saint Paul, Rom.
xiii, 1-2: “Let every soul be subject to the
higher powers, for there is no power but from
God. Therefore, he that resisted, the power re
-i-tetli the qrilinancejof God, and they that resist
purchase damnation to themselves.” Here you
! see I am forbidden by the law of God to resist
the power, and commanded, on peril nfdainnation
to obey. Here is my conscience bound to obedi
ence, and my conscience ns a Catholic can be
released only by a declaration of my Church, a
Ibe divinely appointed director of conscience,
that the prince by liis tyranny and oppression has
forfeited bis rights, sullen from dignity, and ceas
ed to reign. What I claim for the Pope, a* visi
ble head of the Church, is the power to release
my conscience from this religious bond, and to
place me at liberty to resist the prince become a
tyrant. This is all I understand by the deposing*
power.
The Power itself, everybody, not a tyrant or a
-Five, as-erts. The American fA-ngo -s <,f 1770
asserted it. and deposed George the Tjiird. The
on Ig difference is some e/ire to tin people ; some
‘to the iudieiduid ; and / claim it for the Church,
■ and thr pope as life head of In: Church.
j The Pope does not in this e'xerei-e a civil pow
er or juri-diction, and it is called liis temporal
power, only because it is a power exercised over
temporal sovereigns, or in relation to the obliga
tion of the subject to obey the prince. But evert
here tin- Pope docs not relieve from civil nllegi
’ a nee, for that the prince had forfeited bv It m-ty
ranny, lie releases the subject only from the
! spiritual or religious obligation, su/tcradded by
i Christianity to the cieil, and this only in case of
j the C atholic conscience.
The po/sr is the proper out],eerily to decide for
; me whether the Constitution of this country is
!or is not repugnant to the laws of Hod. If he de
i-i les that it is not, ns he has decided, then lam
I bound in conscience to obey every law made in
1 accordance witli it : and under no circumstances
lean he al.solvo tni; from my obligation to obey T
• or interfere with the administration of government
• under it. for the civil government is free to do ac
cording to it* (‘onsiitution whatever it pleases,
’ that is not repugnant to the law* of trod, or to
’ natural ju*tiee. That it. is free to do triers than
; that, I presume no man in this country will pftl**
tend.
I have made these remarks to aid you to un
derstand the doctrine of'lie articles to which I
have called your attention.
j You arc a stranger to me. but I take you to
j be a serious-minded man,.and a I ,v< r of truth
land justice; as such I have addrcc.J yon, I
have no doctrine* or opinions that T w i-lt to con
ceal. lam a Catholic. As such, T attu to Ixs
1 true to inv God, and to my fellow-men.
| I have the honor to be, your obedient servant,
O. A. Buownsox.
Hugh J. Davis, Esq.. Warrenton. N. 0,
The Rev. I>r. Stiles, Secretary of the Southern
Aid Society, states that the people of the South
have expended more to emancipate -laves than
the religious community in the whole country
j lias for all the benevolent objects lx-sidcs. The
South has emancipated slaves at a cost and sacri
fice to themselves of #125,000,000 ; while tho
contributions to all benevolent obj-ets have
been more than one-fifth part of this amount.
George Copway, the Indian Chief, has taken
I the stmnp in Kentucky, in behalf of the Know
i Nothing ticket.
NUMBER 36