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NEWS & PLANTERS’ eAZKTTE.
D.. COTTII¥, Editor.
So. 46.—NEW SERIES.]
News and Planters ’ Gazette.
(terms:
üblished weekly at Two Dollars and Fifty
•nts per annum, il'pnid at the time of Sub.sc ri
ig ; or Three Dollars if not paid till the expi
ion of three months.
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ion of the si litor, without the settlement of
arrearages.
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lire attention. No communication shall be
blished, unless u>e are made acquainted with
name of the author.
TO ADVERTISERS.
i dvertisemenls, notexceedingone square,first
lertion, Seventy-Jive Cents; and for each sub-
Iquent insertion, Fifty Cents. A reduction will
made of twenty-five per cent, to those who
vertise by the year. Advertisements not
jaited when handed in, will be inserted till for
i, and charged accordingly.
Sales of Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad
nistrators and Guardians, are required by law,
be advertised, in a public Gazette, sixty days
avious to the day of sale.
The sales of Personal Property must be adver
ed in like manner, forty days.
Notice tq Debtors and Creditors of an Estate
Ist be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the
urt of Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Ne
>es, must be published for four months—
;ice that application will be made for Letters
Administration, must be published thirty days;
1 Letters ofDismission, six months.
Mail Arrangements.
POST OFFICE, £
Washington, Ga., Sept. 1, 1843. $
EASTERN MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Raytown,
rnble-Wells, Crawfordville, Camack, Warren
1, Thompson, Dearing, and Barzelia.
ARRIVES.
ionday, Wednesday, and Friday, at 9, A. M.
CLOSES.
osday, Thursday, and Saturday, at P. M
WESTERN MAIL.
[}y this route, Mails are made up for all Offi
i in South-Western Georgia, Alabama, Mis
sippj, Louisiana, Florida, also Athens, Ga. and
1 North-We.- eni part of the Stale.
lh.lv es—Wednesday and Friday, by 6 A. M.
oses—Tuesday and Thursday, at I'd M.
g •••• ABBEVILLE, S.C. MAIL.
isy di j • >oi;, a • i ‘.jade up for Drnburg,
itol Creet, and i'etei.sbuig.
ARRIVES.
.osday, Thursday, iuid Satuulay, by 1 P. M.
CLOSES.
fonday, Wednesday, and Friday ,at 6 A. M.
k> LEXINGTON MAIL.
*JBy tliis route, Mails are made up for Centre
lie, State Rights. Soull.shoals, and Salem.
arrives—Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M.
closes —Tuesday and Saturday, at 9 A. M.
APPLING MAIL.
By this route, Mails are made up for Wrights
ro’, White Oak, Walker's Quaker Springs.
rrives—Tuesday and Saturday, by 9 A. M.
loses —Monday and Friday, at 9 A. M.
ELIKRTON MAIL.
fey this route, Mans are mads up for Mallo
■ viile, Goosepond. Whites, Mill-Stone, Harn
liville, and Ruckir ivilie.
Irives Thursday 8 .1-. and Closes some time.
1 tlfcCOLN.’i G' MaC..
By this- route. Mi: :r ... --n. .Uh,
mev Po'j’.*. r• • .i
iruyo. __ i
irrives I'i.uay, - ’ , .
83* The Letter Box ..... . . • oe
site all matter desiguo i h o ,an. cr-cd by
ul, and such as may be .-xv; ai the
les above specified, w ‘■ „ ■ dee,:..cite . b> first
■’l l rwwrwwopiT. vtk-n r qr -7v jct r nnartauMOT
OOTTiiVw . < :v. TLEit,
ATTJRNIRS,
Jf U K .akeH aa OFFICE .tic- N
1 - -
e ‘Jr;-..
OcioJL
Nibi.S ■ ■ • ■ I'ER,
bea:.-i.
■koice Drugs and Meu.ti :;.t ■■■,
Chemicals, Patent Medicines,
Surgical and Dental Instruments.
Perfumery. Brush’
.a Paints, Oils Dye Stuff ~
Window Glass, BfC. fyc.
SIGN OF THE l rrr^TT^ r V 1 /’ .
iED MORTAR. \ AUGUSTA. Ga.
October 12, 1843. Iv 7
rIAVILAND, RISLEY & i;o.
lear the Mansion House, Globe and United
States Hotels,
AUGUSTA, GA.,
bealers in choice
BRU3S AND MEDICINES,
Surgical and Dental Instruments,
Chemicals, Patent Medicines,
s crfumery, Brushes, Paints, Oils,
Window Glass, Dye Stuffs,
&e. <fcc.
Being connected with Haviland,
Keese & Cos., New-York, and Hav
v i land, Harral &. Allen, Charles-
JBjS ton, they are constantly receiving
fresh supplies of every article in
•(heir line, which they are enabled to sell at the
lowest market prices.
03” All goods sold by them, warranted to be of
the quality represented, or may be returned.
Augusta, August 1843. 51
Bargains ! Bargains !!
The Subscriber will sell his Stock
of
Staple and Fancy ,
Foreign and Domestic
noons.
At very reduced prices—cheaper than they
were ever offered in Washington before.
If you want good GOODS, at low prices,
call on
WILLIAM S. HEARD.
May 2, 1844. 2m 36
New Spring Summer
GOODS.
J. MAYER &l BROTHERS,
Respectfully inform the citizens of
Washington and vicinity, that they have
just received a
New Supply of
Spring *V Summer
GOODS,
Consisting of the following Articles, viz.:
Foulard Silk, new style for Ladies’ Dresses, 371
cents per yard,
Lawns and printed Muslins, 81 to 45 cts. per yd.
Calicoes, of every description, 6to 18§ do.
4-4 French Calico, 25 do.
Fine Irish Linen, 50 to 87 do.
Summer fancy Cassiiners, 1 37 to 1 50 do.
Darp d’ete’ for Summer wear, 87-j to §1 do.
Large assortment of Broadcloths, $2 to SfiGA do.
Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Gloves of
every description, from 12j to §>l
Great variety of Linen Cambric
Pocket Handkerchiefs, 183 to S>l each.
Summer Stuff for Pantaloons, to 37 per yd.
Linen do. do. 37 J, to 62 do.
Swiss and Jaconet Muslins of every
description, 25 to 62 do.
Scotch Gingham, 31 j. do.
Also, a great variety of Manches
ter Ginghams, 121 to 18J do.
All kinds of Laces, Siik and Fil
let Shawls, Neck Ties, of
the latest style, 45 cts. to •’s7 each.
Ladies’ Silk and Cotton Ilose of
all kinds, 12 cts. to §1 50
Leghorn and Straw Bonnets of
every description, SI 121 to 4 50
A great variety ot Bonnet and Cap Ribbons,
Marseilles Vesting from 20 cts. to 75
Latest style of Ready-made Summer Clothing
for Gentlemen’s wear, a large assortment,
Also, an assortment of Summer Hats,
Ladies’ Shoes and Pumps of all kinds, from 25
cents a pair to $1 12|
Also, a large assortment of Gentlemen’s Shoes
and Pumps, from 62£ to $2 75 cts. per pair
Boots from <s2 to sl. do.
Bieached and unbleached Homespun of every
description, at the Charleston prices.
Coffoe, Sugar, Tobacco & Segars,
Which will be sold as cheap as can be bought
in this country. 83“ Call and see—nothing
charged for showing Goods.
April 25, 1844. 35
FIRE INSURANCE.
rpilE NEW-YORK CONTRIBUTION-
A SHIP FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY
have established an Agency in Washington,
Wilkes county, Georgia, and are now prepared
to Insure Buildings and Merchandize against
loss or damage by Fire.
Capital $300,000,
All paid in and safely invested.
Apply to
WILLIAM S. HEARD, Agent,
W :si .ngton, Ga.
May 2, lb-t i. 36
Richmond Motel •
; --4 THE S..'ti'cribe-, naving taken the
ffinrfW above named HOUSE, formerly oc
jii.il jaß • upied by Cap,. Edward W. Collier,
j-.o happy tc receive the pat
roea-e. so ric:.:-s the public generally.
Tne Ho;.s the vicinity of many of
fiie printi): re a ms-.’s in Augusta, making it
a convenient iecu'.ion for persons visiting the
city Bur.ine..;. Families can be accommoda
ted with retired and pleasant Rooms.
P<-r-‘.:;s favoring me w;m a tali, will find due
a''” ion, comfortable io- : gin;.r, the best fare,
. ve hostlers and moderate charges.
JOHN T. WOOTTEN.
25,1944. 35
For Sale*
A T the Subscriber’s .Mill, eight miles East of
ajL Washington, 60,000 feet of PLANK of all
descriptions. Also, constantly on hand, a supply
of FLOUR, warranted fresh and equal in quali
ty to any which can be made in the Southern
States—which will be cold at. customary prices.
A regular supply of the Flour will be left, at the
Store of Willis & Hester, in Washington, oppo
site the Post-Office, for the accommodation of
purchasers generally.
W. W. SIMPSON.
June 20, 1644. 12t* 43
To JftecUanics •
WILL be let to the Lowest Bidder, on Wed
nesday the 24ili July inataut, the Build
ing of Gunnel’s Bridge, across Long Creek, on
the Road leading from Washington to Elberton.
Particulars on the day.
JOHN L. WYNN, 5
WILLIAM M. JORDAN. o
SAMUEL W. WYNN, 2
BEDFORD CADE, |
JOHN THOMAS, S’
RICHARD HOFF, 5
JOSEPH BRIDGES, g
JAMES JOHNSON, ?
JOHN SETTLE,
ROLLEY HOPPER, j
Julv 4,1844. 3t 45
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, G 1.,) JULY 11, ISIS.
jmtffrrUAiKou#.
From Hood’s Magazine.
THE DEAD ALIVE.
It was four o’clock—and 1 had not yet
prepared myself to givt nr. lecture. The
heat was oppressive, the ai; heavy, the sky
tempestuous ; and I felt n sensation of rest
lessness and nervous irritability quite unu
sual to me. During the last week 1 had
not enjoyed one hour’s tranquility ; several
persons-dangerously ill and requiring my
attention bad cnllcd for me. One in par
ticular (the only support of a large family)
gave me great anxiety, and excited in my
mind extreme sympathy. In this state I
got into the carriage to go to the Universi
ty. At that moment an unsealed note was
put into my hand. I opened it immediate
ly, and found it to announce the death of
poor II , for whom I was so much inter
ested ; and this news affected me deeply.
The stroke was the more severe as I had
not foreseen the event, and, consequently,
had not the consolation of having been able
to prepare the family of my patient for so
great a misfortune. Hitherto the chair of
declamation had always been to me rather
a pleasure than a labor ; the abstract theo
ries of the science had amused my mind ;
but this evening I felt a degree of uneasi
ness on my spirits for which I could not ac
count. The events of the day had so deep
ly affected me that 1 felt an almost insur
mountable inclination to repose. When 1
reached the entry of the hall, I cast a look
around at the unusually full audience, and
as I passed through the crowd I heard the
name of a celebrated doctor spoken of as
being amongst the hearers. At another
time these were circumstances that would
have given pleasure, but now they increas
ed my confusion, which was indeed com
plete when I discovered that 1 had left my
notes in the carriage, which I had dismiss
ed at tfie door, intending to walk home. It
was too late to send for them ; and as I was
now in great perplexity, I opened my port
folio, and hastily ran through a number of
remarks that I had thrown in there without
arranging them ; happily, I fell upon some
novel observations upon insanity, and 1 then
determined to make that the subject of my
offhand lecture.
I have but a confused idea of what then
followed; but I remember the applause
which saluted my entrance, and which be
came still louder when my confusion was
observed. As soon as there was silence, I
summoned all my courage and began. J'he
first words cost me infinite pain ; I hesita
ted and stopped continually ; but by de
grees I recovered myself, and the great at
tention paid to me gave me confidence. I
soon found the cloud that overspread my
senses clearing off; my ideas became less
confused ; the words came readily, and
comparisons arid expressions crowded upon
me. I had only to choose them. As I went
on, my observations became more striking,
and my demonstrations more clear and
comprehensive. I was astonished at the
fluency with which I expressed myself. I
found great facility in treating several dif
ficult subjects, which at another time I
should hardly have dared to attempt. They
seemed to me clear and simple, and I got
through them as trifles.
Still greater became my surprise to find
that my memory, which had hitherto been
slow and imperfect, was suddenly become
miraculously faithful, and brought back
the most trifling circumstances of my long
career. 1 cited an author, and with so
much exactitude, that one might have ima
gined that I held the book in my hand ;
facts and anecdotes came to elucidate my
theories and demonstrations; the cases of
insanity that I had witnessed in my youth,
and which I thought was effaced from my
memory, rushed back upon it as if they hud
recently happened. I became every mo
ment more at ease, the promptness with
which one idea followed another exciting
every faculty; and words came to give
them expression. At that moment a great
terror took possession of my mind. It
seemed to me that some unknown danger,
which it was not in my power to avoid, hung
over me.
The supernatural power that had hither
to supported nt” began to sink ; my thoughts
became c.onb.z ‘d; strange faces and fan
tastic images ffi.tcd before my eyes. The
objects of whfi h 1 had been speaking came
to life, and I seemed like a magician who,
by a word rendered visible the living and
the dead. I stopped ! The most perfect
silence reigned in the hall, and every eye
was turned toward me. All at once a hor
rible thought seized me, a convulsive laugh
broke from me, and I exclaimed, “ I also
am mad /” All the assembly rose instan
taneously like one body. Every voice rais
ed a cry of surprise and terror; and of
what afterwards happened I knew nothing.
When I recovered my senses I was in
bed. I looked around—l knew every ob
ject in the room. The sun shone upon the
window curtains, which were half closed.
I was sensible that it was evening ; 1 saw
nobody in the room ; and w’hen I endeavor,
ed to comprehend who I was, and why
there, a faintness came over me : I shut my
eyes and tried to sleep, when someone en
tering the room awakened me ; it was my
friend Doctor G., who approached the bed,
and attentively examined me for the space
of a few moments. Whilst he thus looked
at me I perceived that he changed color,
his hand trembled whilst feeling my pulse,
and in a low and melancholy whisper he
said, “My God, how he is changed !” 1
then heard a voice at the door say, “ May
I rome in ?” The Doctor did not answer,
and my wife came gently into the room.—
She looked pale and sorrowful ; her eyes ,
wet, at and, ns she bent anxiously over me, j
burning tears fell upon my face. She took
my hands both in hers, bent her lips close
to my ear, and said, “ William, do you
know me ? A long silence followed this
question. I tried to answer, but was inca
pubic of pronouncing one word. I wished
to show by some sign that I was sensible of
her presence. I fixed my eyes upon her ;
but I heard her say, amid deep sobs and
tears, “Alas! he does not know me!”
And thus I perceived that my efforts had
been in vain. The Doctor now took my
wife by the hand to lead her from the room.
“Not yet, not yet,” she said, withdrawing
her hand, and 1 relapsed into delirium.
When again I became sensible, I felt as
if I had awakened from a long and deep
sleep. I still suffered, but less severely ;
extreme weakness had succeeded to a fe
ver, my eyes were painful and a mist was
over them ; at first 1 was not sensible that
any one was in the room, but gradually ob
jects became more distinct, and I saw the
doctor seated by my bed. He said, “ Are
you better, William ?” Hitherto my in
effectual attempts to make myself under
stood had not given me pain, hut now the
impossibility of doing so was a martyrdom.
I soon became aware that tny strength of
mind was leaving me, and that death ap
proached. The efforts that 1 made to rouse
myself from this sort of death-like slumber,
must have been very violent, for a cold
sweat came all over me. I heard a rush
ing as if my ears were full of water, and
my limbs were convulsed. I seized the
Doctor’s hand, which I pressed with all my
strength. I rose in tny bed and looked
wildly at him. This did not last long ; I
soon fell again into weakness ; I dropped i
the hand which 1 had grasped, my eyes
closed, and I fell back on my bed. All
that I remember at that moment, were the
words of poor Dr. G , who thinking me
dead, exclaimed, “At last his sufferings
are over!”
Many hours passed before I recovered
my senses. The first sensation of which 1
became sensible was the coldness of the air,
which felt like ice upon my face ; it seem
ed as if an enormous weight was on it; j
my arms were stretched against my body,
and though 1 was lying in a most inconve
nient position, yet it was impossible to
change it; 1 tried to speak, but had not the
power. Some time afterwards 1 heard the
steps of many people walking.in the room,
something heavy was set down, and a
hoarse voice pronounced these words :
“ William H , aged thirty-eight: I
thought him older !” These words recall
ed to my mind all the circumstances of my
illness; I understood that I had ceased to
live, and that preparations were making for
my interment. Was I then dead? The
body was indeed cold and inanimate ; but
thought was not extinct. How could it be
that all traces of life had disappeared ex
teriorly, and that sentiment still existed in
the chilly frame that was now going to be
conveyed to the grave ? What a horrible
idea! My God! is this a dream ? No;
all was real ; I recalled to my mind the
last words of the doctor ; he knew too well
the signs of death to allow himself to be de
ceived by false appearances. No hope?
None! I felt myself being placed in the
coffin. What language can describe all
the horrors of that moment.
I know not how long I remained in this
situation. The silence that reigned in the
room was again broken, and I was sensible
that many of my friends came to look at
me for the last time.
My mind was awake to all the horrors of
my situation ; in a moment my heart be
came sensible to acute suffering. But
what! thought Ito myself, is everything in
me dead ? Is the soul, as well as the body
inanimate V My thought nevertheless was
a proof to the contrary. What has then be
come of my will to speak, to see, to live ?
Everything within me sleeps, and is as in
active as if 1 had never existed ! Are the
nerves disobedient to the command of the
brain ? Why do these swift messengers
refuse to obey the soul ? I recalled to
mind the almost miraculous instances of
the power of the mind directed to one pur
pose and urged by a strong impulse. I
knew the history of the Indian who, afu t
the death of his wife had offered his Im ist
to her infant, and Lad nourished it with
milk. Was not this miracle the effect of a
strong will ! I myself had seen life and
motion restored to a palsied limb by a
mighty effort of the mind, which had awa
kened the dormant nerves. I knew a man
wiiose heart beat slowly or quick as he
pleased. Yes, thought lin a transport of
joy, the will to live remains. It is only
when this faculty has yielded that Death
can become master of us. I felt a hope of
reviviug, as I may express it, by the vigor
of my will; but alas ! I cannot think of it
without fear ! The moments were speed
ing fast away, and by the noises around me,
1 comprehended that preparations were ma
king to close my coffin. What was to be
done ? If the will has really the power at
tributed to it, how shall I exert it ? Dur
ing my illness I often strongly desired to
speak and move, but could not do so. As
the wrestler puts forth the utmost strength
of every muscle to raise up his antagonist,
so I employed all that my will could com
mand. and endeavored to impart to my
nerves the impulse of that energetic voli
tion, my last hope ! It was in vain. In
vain did I try to raise one breath within my
breast —to utter one sigh. And oh, what
increase of horror ! I heard the nails ap
plied to my coffin. Despair whs in the
sonnd!
At that very instant, E , tny oldest,
my dearest friend, came into rny room, lie
had performed a long journey to sec me
once more, to bid an eternal farewell to the
companion of his childhood. They made
way for him. Ho rushed forward and laid
his hand, his faithful, fond hand on my bo
som Oh, the warmth of that friend’s
hand ! It touched the inmost fibres of my
heart, and it sprang to meet him. That
emotion acted upon tny whole system ; the
blood was agitated ; it began to flow, my
nerves trembled, and a convulsive sight
bursted from my disenchanted lungs, every
fibre moved with a sudden bound, like the
cordage of a vessel struggling against a
migiity sea. 1 breathed again! Hut so
sudden and so unexpected was the change
in my frame, that an idea came to my mind
that it could not be real—that I was again
deprived of reason. Happily this doubt
soon ceased. A cry of terror, and these
words, “lie lives!” uttered distinctly e
nougii for me to hear, put all beyond doubt.
The noise and bustle became genera!, and
some voice exclaimed, “E has fainted;
raise him up, carry him hence, that lie may
riot when he opens his eyes first behold his
friend.” Orders, exclamations, cries of
joy and surprise, increased every instant ;
all that I now recall is, that 1 was lifted
out of my coffin, and before a good fire, was
completely brought to life, and found my
self surrounded by friends. After some
weeks 1 was restored to health ; f had seen
death as nearly as possible, and my lips
had touched the bitter portion which one
day I must yet drink to the last drop.
From the Geneva (N. Y.) Courier.
AN INCIDENT.
THE LABORING MAN’S SPEECH.
“ In conclusion, then, Mr. President, who
are these aristocrats who walk upon their
Turkey carpets and ride in their splendid
coaches, and whose purses are bursting
with untold gold, wrung from the hard
toil of honest, uncomplaining industry?—
Who, I say, are these rich nabobs, that
they should call upon us, the poor men of
the country, to be taxed to swell the profits
of their lordly manufacturers ?”
The occasion was a political meeting ;
the orator a quandatn Federalist, of Co
lumbia count}’, N. Y., prominent in the
ranks of Locofocoism ; the audience chiefly
-hard working men from an adjoining man
ufactory. The sentiment was received
with a burst of applause, amid which the
orator sat down.
“Mr. President,” exclaimed a voice in a
note so distinct and peculiar, as at once to
draw the eyes of all to the speaker—(a
slender man with a thiii and intellectual
aspect, plainly but neatly clad) —“Mr.
President, I am one of those oppressed poor
men, to whom the orator lias referred. 1
desire to speak : may I be heard ?”
Leave being granted, he proceeded as
follows :
“Some writer has remarked, that there
is no tnan so humble, but that his life, faith
fully reported, will afford some useful
moral; and as an ounce of experience is
worth a pound of theory, even my life may
not be without its use. 1 am by trade a
weaver. Six years since, I was employed
in a manufactury in Rhode Island. My
employers were honest and intelligent,
though wealthy men. They paid me fair
but not high wages. These wages, how
ever, were punctually paid ; and my expe
rience has taught me that a dollar in hand
is worth twelve shillings in promises. I
was industrious and frugal, and therefore
contented and happy. My wages sufficed
not only for my support, but also to accu
mulate a small surplus. I was pleased
with rny condition, and looked forward with
the well grounded hope to a happy future.
About this time a speaker came among us
who used arguments precisely similar to
those employed this evening. His views
were novel, ingenious and striking. We
were captivated with his theory. Before
we thought ourselves well paid; we now
imagined ourselves oppressed. Before, we
thought ourselves happy ; we now began
to think ourselves miserable. The ex
change for me, was a bad one ; (for who
would prefo- misery and discontent to hap
pir :- ..> peace ?) but I was too eager irt
tli - pursuit -.f the theory to regard its con
sequences
“He told us that the distinctions of wealth
and poverty were merely artificial, having
their foundation in the superior wickedness
or weakness of mankind, wholly unsup
ported by reason or justice ; that we were
all alike God’s children, and therefore a
like entitled to share in his bounty ; that
the entire structure of society was wrong
and needed reform; tiiat wealth, as at pre
sent employed was merely an oppression ;
and that the main object of its possessor
was to grind the face of the poor. We
were fascinated with these views, an'd be
gan to conduct accordingly. Our work
began to be slighted and our employers be
gan to complain. Matters ran from bad to
worse, until finally a genera! combination
of tbs operatives (I being a: the head) sus
pended the works. We were ail of us dis
charged, others were employed, and in a
bout tour days the mills were again in ac
tive operation. I now for the first time din
covered that a theory reduced to practice
has its practical results ; that though it may
afford amusement for the fancy, it neither
clothes a man’s back nor fill his stomach ;
and that as the best way of judging of a
M. .. k irPEIi, Printer
tree is by i:s fruit, so the best way judging
ot a theory is by its practical effects, t
formerly knew myself happy, I now found
myself miserable. I formerly was lavtng
up money ; l now was as rapidly spending
it. So far, Ihad certainly not changed for
tho better.
“In a short time, my surplus became ex
hausted, and as my name had become
somewhat prominent us a reformer, 1 foun 1
it difficult to get work from any employy,
as ail alike feared my influence and ex
ample. Poverty now stared me in the
face; and though Necessity be a hard
school, fools, as it is said will learn in no
other. I determined to profit (if possible)
by an experience and set myself to consid
er my present condition and its causes. 1
now remembed that the speaker whose ar
gument had captivated inv fancy, prac
ticed upon a very different theory from that
he preached ; that though he denounced
wealth, no one was moio obsequious to the
rich ; and though lie sympathized with the
poor, he never would touch the cause of u
poor man unless his fee (he was a lawyer)
was paid in advance. ‘ hence concluded
that a man’s acts are the best test of his
principles, and that when we find a man
preaching one thing and pr: “sing another,
we may reasonably distrust both his doc
trine and his sincerity. In t: own parti
cular. my theory had operated disastrously.
It .nid reduced me from comfort to want,
and had filled me with discontent, envy,
and jealousy towards my more favored
neighbors.
“What had happened to me might rea
sonably happen to all ; and a theory fol
lowed by such effects might fairly be pro
nounced unsound. But whether unsound
or not, I reflected that it was folly for tne
to sacrifice my money, independence, and
comfort, substantial advantages, for a mere
idea, the vague conception of another's
brain. We have heard, my friends, the
rich denounced : hut why denounce the
rich ? Suppose you or I, by prudence or
industry, (as well we may) attain to inde
pendence : are we, therefore, to be stigma
tised as aristocrats ? Or, suppose we leave
our property to our children ; are they to
be proscribed ? And should we, who want
employment, proclaim war against the
rich, who alone can give it to us? Sup
pose all were as needy as ourselves ; who
is it to employ us !—and if no man employs
us, where is uiir bread ? But why de
nounce the tariff? it increases the supply:
how, then can it raise the price ? It in
creases employment and the wages of la
bor ; how, then, can it injure the laborer ?
Ifyouhave no tariff, the rich will buy
whatever they want abroad and employ
foreigners : if you have a tariff, they will
buy what they want at home, and employ
you. Which of the two do you prefer ?
“Next to God, a man’s first duty is to
his family, and a nation’s first duty to it
self. Let the American Government look
out for the American people, and leave the
English Government to take care of the
English people. We, my friends, practi
cing industry and frugality should remem
ber a few plain maxims, and we cannot
well fail to be prosperous. We should re
member—
“ 1. To judge our public men by the ef
fects of their measures, not their profes
sions. Ifthe people have thrived under
their administration, and there has been
no corruption, extravagance or public debt,
it may bo well enough to try them again ;
hut if the people have not thrived under
their measures, tlie people would be fools
to try them again : for what has happened
once may happen twice ; what is bred in
the bone will show itself in the flesh; and
a man’s calling himself a Democrat don't
make him one.
“2. That it is more prudent io let well
enough aione ; and though ten shillings per
day be better than six shillings, yet that
six shillings per day is better than nothing.
“3. Finally, we should remember that
employment depends upon the amount of
capital and the activity with which it
moves; and that a tariff increases the a
mount of capita! by preventing its being
drawn off to pay for foreign goods, as also
the activity of that capital by embarking it
in manufacturing enterprise, and thus cir
culating it through the country. As cm
ployment is a poor man’s only capital, it
surely stands him in hand to carry it to the
best market.”
Here the speaker ceased. His observa
tions were received in silence, and the
meeting quietly dispered, without noise or
any further remark.
Stale's Evidence. —A good story is told
of Geo. White, a notorious thief in Massa
chusetts. lie was once arraigned for horse
stealing, when it was supposed that he
was connected with an extensive band,
which was laying contributions on all the
stables round. White was offered large
inducements to reveal his associates, all
of which he declined, until an assurance
from the court was obtained that he should
he discharged if he would turn on his com
rades. The jury returned a verdict of
“not guilty” when he was called upon for
his promised relations. “I shall be faith
ful to my word,” said he, “understand that
the devil is theonly accomplice I ever had ;
we have been a great while in partnership;
you have acquitted me, and you may hang
him if you can catch him.
1 Knowledge without virtue, says some
j one, is a knife in the hands ot a maniac.—
jt may be well employed on-! i: 1 -av r-ct
[VOLUME -YM.Y