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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. No paper to be discontinued,unices a! the ion of the si litor, without the settlement of arrearages. D* Litters, on business, must be postpaid,to 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