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COLUMBUS: Monday Morning, October 30, 1850. I.AIIOKST CITY CIRCULATION. We call attention to the advertisement in to-day’s Sun, of the new Dry Goods house of Calhoun & Johnson. Mr. Calhoun is favora bly known in our community, for many years acting as clerk in the store of J. & J. Kyle, and then as partner in the house of Kyle, Kveritt & Cos. They have a fine stock—everything splintering new. It is useless to tell the ladies to give them a call—the bear announcement is sufficient. BISECTIONS. Washington, Oct. 18. The Democratic majority in Pennsylvania is 5000. The Democrats have carried the Legislature and eiectod 15 members to Con gress. In Indiana the Democrats have elected the Governor by KtMlO majority, carried a majori ty in the Legislature', and eiectod seven mem bers to Congress. In Ohio the Black Republicans have carried the State, but, the Democrats elected seven members to Congress. For Congress in Indiana. The following is the result of the Congres sional election in Indiana: Ist District—Lockhart, (Dcm.) 3,000 inaj. 2d “ English, “ 2,800 “ 3d “ Hughes, “ 1,700 “ ■lfli “ Foley, “ 1,200 “ sth “ Kilbern, (Rep.) 2,000 “ oth “ Gregg, (Dem.) 1,200 “ 7th “ Davis, “ 1,000 “ Htli “ Wilson, (Itep.) 250 “ oth “ vote close. 10th “ Lowry, (Dem.) 500 “ Mill “ Petit, (Hep.) small maj. This shows the popular vote in Indiana to he Democratic by 0,150, and the Ninth Dis trict yet to be decided. ■—■— We find the following dispatch in the last Savannah Republican: Phit.adhi.phia, Oct. 16.—The Union State ticket has triumphed by probably from three to live thousand majority, notwithstanding the Locofoco frauds, which amount to thirty thou sand votes. J. P. Sanderson. Doatli of Judge Joseph W. Lesesne. The Mobile Register of Friday, brings tiie melancholy announcement of the death of the lion. Joseph W. Lesesne, who, with one of his sons, was drowned oif Point Clear early Thurs day morning. The suddenness of the shock, and the melancholy character of the catas trophe, says the Register, will lend fresh poig nancy to the grief with which the community, in which he occupied so large a sharo of pub lic attention, will receive the announcement of his decease. Judge Lesesne was a native of Georgetown, S. C., but was for many years a resident of Alabama, where lie early won a reputation, to which, onnll occasions, whether at the bar, on the bench, or in the Legislative hulls, lie proved himself equal. A man of rare endowments, varied accomplishments and extensive acquirements, ho devoted them all to the service of the South in her struggle for emancipation—and the great party to which lie belonged will mourn in him, the loss of one of its ablest lyid most faithful champions. But it is not now that his epitaph may bo written. Loving hands will hereafter offer tribute to his public and public and private worth ; but now wo can only bow in silent grief to the stroke we may not avert. Query—Did anybody ever hoar anybody say that Fillmore “ couldn’t carry a State in the Union !”—Columbus Enquirer. We are requested by the gentleman who said it, to inform the Enquirer that ho has seen nothing yet to change that opinion. The Mercury learns that a protest has been entered against the validity ol’ the election for State Senator, and Representative to Con gress from the Charleston District. Gin House Burnt. We learn from the Dadeville (Ala.) Banner, that the Gin House of Gen. M. J. Bulger, in Tallapoosa county, was consumed by tire on Thursday night, the 9tli instant. It is sup posed to have been the work of an incendiary. Loss put down at $2,000. The Mississippi River. The Natchez Freetrader says the Mississip pi is lower than at any period in our recollec tion. Boats are grounding between Vicks burg and this place, and at Natchez Island. Last week.the Eclipse got aground just above Vicksburg. She succeeded after three days in getting off. The Princes is aground at Ilole-ra-thc-Wall” and wo are informed that at her bow there is but eighteen inches of wa ter. Unless the river rises, the large boats will have to carry smaller loads or quit running, and give up tho trade to smaller crafts. At the election for Mayor of Newark, N. J., oil the 14th instant, Bigelow, Democrat, was elected over his American opponent by 400 majority. The Americans last year were largely in the ascendancy in Newark. We learn from the Wetmnplm Dispatch, that the lion. S. W. Harris, Representative from that District, is at home very ill from an attack of Typhoid fever. Bad Aooident. A few days ago, a little girl, seven years old, daughter, of Mr. Erustein, of Columbia, S. C., was strangled to death by the rope of a swing, which, by some means, became entan gled around her neck. Governor Adams, of South t’arolinia, has issued lus proclamation convening the Legis lature of that State on the first Monday in No vember, preparatory to casting tho vote of the State for President, on Tuesday. Conviction of Pynes. We learn from the Lumpkin Pluindealev, that Pynes, who killed his wife and threw her into a well, a short time ago, was tried at the recent term of the Superior Court of Webster x county, and convicted. He has been seiuenc ■ edto be hung on the 28th of November. From Ballou's Pictorial. FIDELITY AND PRINCIPLE. BY WILLIAM COMSTOCK. Wiilowoti wife Aiitl married maid. Betrothed, betrayer and betrayed— ScoU. A singular circumstance occurred on board the frigate B , while lying at. Callao, port. of Lima, some thirty years ago. It was near the hour of noon. The sun lay hot upon the spar-deck. The afterguard and forecastle-men were loitering about, some seated between guns, engaged in reading, mending their clothes, or in desultory con versation; the toprnen aloft reclined on the shady side of the lower mast-heads, while tho officers, protected by the awning over the quarter-dock, were gathered about the cap stan, discussing some subject connected with their profession. On the gun-deck the waisters were growi ng, as usual, at some trivial duty that they had been called upon to perform; while the neighborhood of the cabouse was occupied, on the starboard side, by several old salts, witli short black pipes in their mouths, and heads partly sunk between their shoulders, who were, doubtless, wondering that any man should be dissatisfied with this sublunary ex istence, who could get a plenty of grog and tobacco. On the other side of t lie cabouse, between two of the forward guns, were some half dozen blue jackets, with manacles on their limbs, and in front of whom a gray-backed marine, witli musket on his shoulder, marched listless ly to and fro. The men in bonds had re mained on shore several hours without per mission, and while there had committed some trespass and got into trouble with the natives. There were seven of the delinquents in all. Six of them were ironed in “the brig,” and guarded by the marine ; while the seventh — no human hand could harm him more. Looking aft, you might have seen, on the larboard side of the quarter-deck, a genteel tigure, with one hand in his vest and the other swinging carelessly at his side, as he walked fore and aft, scarcely even looking at the hands, and apparently uninterested in all that was passing around him. This was the com modore of tlie squadron in the Pacific. Our frigate was the fiag-sliip. But the commodore was not the only inter esting object there. About midway, bet ween the mainmast and the door of tkccabin, there lay, upon a table, a heap, some feet in length, enveloped by the glorious banting, the starry banner of country. This was the body of a weather-beaten tar, who had seen much service, and who was with Porter when engaged in his desperate tight with the Cherub and Phoebe, in a little bay near the harbor of Valparaiso. H e hail been twice wrecked, twice in battle, and had escaped many other dangers, to bo finally kill ed in a drunken brawl at Callao. Ilis body waij covered with gashes, inflicted by the knives of the native cholans; but, strange to say, his six companions had scarcely received a wound. The stiffened corpse was now stretched on the gun-deck, and the commodore was passing it in iiis walks, without seeming to be con scious of its presence, until a small midship man ran down the after-ladder and said some thing to him in a low voice. The commodore then turned, and having given a hasty glance at the body, went upon deck. It was then perceived that one of the ship’s cutters had arrived. A lady, richly dressed, was handed over the side, during which cere mony the officiousness of the officers was such that the fair visitor narrowly escaped tum bling over one midshipman andrunningdown another. The commodore was, however, on deck in time to give her a welcome. He then carefully led her down the ladder. They ap proached the body, and at the same time the commodore gave orders to uncover the corpse. As soon as the features of the dead were revealed, the lady gave a slight start. Then she stood gazing upon the stony face for sev eral minutes, with the keenest anguish im printed on her pallid features. With a trem bling hand, she placed a white rose on the bosom of the deceased. She then stooped down and touched her lips to his forehead, after which she immediately turned to the commodore. He led her, silently, to the spar deck, and she passed over the side into the boat, which had been manned and was wait ing for her. The seamen who pulled her to tho shore reported that she never spoke after leaving the frigate. Her features remained as pale ns snow. On arriving at the beach, a carriage was in waiting for her ; she entered it, and was driven in the direction of Lima. Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the ship’s company at witnessing these move ments, and the officers were quite as much mystified as the crew. The commodore was evidently the only person in the squadron who knew anything about the matter. The name of the deceased was Brady, a clever fellow, indeed, and a good sailor, hut nothing more. That a lady, who evidently moved in the higher walks of society, should have evinced so much grief at the death of the hardy tar, especially when nobody had ever heard him speak of any such lady, was whol ly unaccountable to us all. This affair formed a subject of conversat ion throughout flic whole squadron, for many months. The officers made inquires in the city of Lima, but could only learn that an Ameri can lady arrived there about the time that we sailed into the harbor, and that she abruptly lett for the United States, immediately after visiting our frigate. Several years afterward, I formed an ac quaintance with a young Philadelphian, who threw some light on the subject. The mys terious lady was a near relative of his. It ap peared that our shipmate, Brady, lived origi nally in Philadelphia, and was there kuowu as a young merchant of much promise, es teemed for liis probity, prudence and sagaci ty. lie formed an acquaintance with a lady of singular beauty and remarkable accom plishments. She was also a person of fixed principles, incapable of swerving from any course which she believed to be right. The firmness ot resolve arose from no want of ten derness. She could make any sacrifice ne cessary to the happiness of others, except the sacrifice of right. There she was impregna ble. The two lovers were deeply devoted in their attachment, l’lieir love was planted on es teem. They entertained for each other tho highest respect, as well the most passionate admiration. The wedding-day was fixed, and their mutual friends regarded the match as a most proper otic. They seemed to have been designed by Heaven to mingle their destinies together. Brady had a female cousin who luvd, from the first looked upon this union with jaundic ed eyes. Although deficient in all those qualities which he deemed indispensable in a wife, she had taken it for granted that Brady could not see her without becoming smitten by her superior beauty and fashionable man ners. As the day approached for the nuptials, the cousin grew moody and thoughtful; blither most intimate companions never suspected the turn which her envy had taken. Brady was under the necessity of leaving town on busi ness, and to be absent several weeks. On his return the marriage was to take place. During his absence, strange reports had been circulated about Brady’s intended, and on his arrival in the city, he found an anony mous letter on liis desk, which spoke in the most pointed manner of the young lady’s mis conduct. The name of the man was not given, but it was stated that her intercourse with him had been mere than imprudent. In the evening, Brady called upon her whom lie so truly loved, and presented her with the foul epistle, expressing, at the same time, his contempt for the villain who wrote it. Miss B read the letter, and laid it aside with a calm smile, but without making any remark. Brady would have been better pleased if she had made a few indignant observations upon the malice of the writer. Instead of doing so, she immediately began to converse upon some other theme, and her lover soon forgot tho unpleasant subject. On the next day, however, he perceived that when his friends met him, they fixed their eyes upon his countenance in a peculiar man ner. To one of them he mentioned the fact, and then Brady was made acquainted with t he slanderous reports which were flying about, and which had already proved highly preju dicial to the reputation of Miss B . Brady questioned his friend closely, and made many other attempts to trace these re ports to the fountain head. In that lie failed. The next time that he saw Miss B , she soon discovered an ominous reserve in his man ner. She demanded the reason of this change, and he then stated that he had heard certain charges made against her, which were of the same tenor as the anonymous letter. “Os courso,” added he, “1 do not believe a word of these malicious reports.” Still Miss B made no attempt to to ex culpate herself, and conversed freely on other topics. It was soon manifest that her lover was becoming uneasy, and, at lenghth, he ven tured to inquire, in a tone of affected careless ness, whether she had been to New York with her father, or any other gentleman, during his absence from the city. “Leave me!” cried Miss B , promptly. “Leave me, Mr. Brady. The man who can, for a single moment, be influenced by slander ous reports, before marriage, will never be sat isfied with her whom lie has doubted, after the union is consummated.” “But Eliza, my dear, you do not suppose—” “1 have no more to say,” interrupted Miss B—, rising, with the paleness of death on her features, and retiring at once to her cham ber. Brady sat ten minutes ns if turned to stone. His features then began to relax, nnd with a smile, ho said: “l’shaw! lovers’ quarrels! what a fool I am to take it so much to heart! These things always happen between engaged parties. But I must be more careful in future. I will now go home, and write her a letter of explanation. When she knows the true state of the case—yet she is no common woman— and, after all, conscious guilt—yes, conscious guilt would act thus, when called upon for an explanation. Is it not an ingenious way to avoid the probe ? To assume the air of offen ded virtue—often done by the most abandoned, —she would have mo marry her without an explanation, and then—O then—how she could retort—could say, “I never told you tliatl was innocent, ’ —l must beware of that trap. But no ; I believe her innocent,; and did it become me to doubt her—her—what? my Eliza! doubt her? O, it was most vile; I’ll send her a letter; I’ll use such t u rns as would melt a heart of stone—confess my error—contrition— cause the pearly tears to start from her deep blue eyes, and she will love me more than ever!” Sanguine was his conviction that a woman who truly loved him would be unable to resist his application for pardon. Deceitful is the heart of man. In the very moment that Brady tv as penning this repent ant epistle, lie was secretly reserving to him self the right of instituting such inquiries as should assure him of Miss l’> ’s innocence, before he ventured to trust his honor in her keeping by making her his wife. The letter was sent, and the messenger brought it back unopened. “ Was she not at home ? ” “Yes, sir, the lady was at home; but she knew the handwriting, and said she could re ceive nothing from you.” We, who have known what passed in the mind of Brady, must justify the inexorable resolve of Miss B ; but the world, who knew him only as a depending lover, thought she deserved to die an old maid, as a fitting reward for her cruelty. The warm sympathy of liis friends, who universally condemned the conduct of Miss B , supported Brady’s spirit for a time, and the serious doubts which they instilled into him, of the worthiness of the beloved ob ject, prevented his making a second attempt at shaking her resolution. Os all the friends that came to the aid of Brady iu the hour of his distress, the most at tentive and affectionate was his fair cousin. He was touched by the gentleness of her man ner, the soothing sweetness of her tones, and the tact which she displayed in the applica tion of all those little arts which woman knows how to play off so well, when heartily engaged in beguiling the grief of another, lie had never supposed that his cousin was capable of so much disinterested kindness.— lie grew fond of her society ; to I'cst, his la cerated heart upon the soft down of her sym pathizing bosom was a luxury that he could not dispense with, and a comparison between liis cousin Flora and the hard, unfeeling Eliza B , gave overwhelming odds in favor of the former beauty. Nevertheless, there were vast discrepancies between the two young ladies, which Brady would have noted under other circumstances ; but now he was all sorrow, and Flora was all consolation. If his eyes were blinded, how ever, liis heart was not wholly so, for lie felt “like a guilty thing” when lie finally put the “momentous question” to his cousin Flora. She cask down her eyes, and acted the part necessary on such occasions with the most be coming modesty and indecision, but ended by accepting the offer. Preparations were made for the wedding, and the noise of Brady’s nuptials with Flora M was bruited about the fashionable of the city. It was then that Brady received the following note: “M ill Mr. Brady favor the undersigned with a brief interview as soon as he is at leisure ? Eliza B .” “Amazement!” cried Brady, letting the paper fall to the ground in his agitation: “this woman, who refused even to read a let ter of mine, now sues for a personal interview! We ore in luck. Ha! ha! she has heard of my intended marriage, and her resolution gives away. It never rains but it pours.— Scarcely have l made sure of one sweet angel, than another comes unbidden to fling herself into my arms! Well—but—there are some explanations to be made, lor Eliza’s reputa tion has suffered: no matter, I am ull impa tience to learn the meaning of this funny re action iu a mind so sternly framed,” —and the young mnn hurried off towards Uhesnut Street, humming, as he went: How liui>iy could I be Were either dear charmer away! ” When he entered the well-known house, and his eye was greeted by the once familiar ob jects in the hall, he felt that he had never l'or a moment ceased to love the queenly creature whose presence he was seeking. But there was little time for reflection. Eliza met him on his entrance, and led him to a private opart in ent. “ My dearest Eliza—” “Pray cease, and sit down,” interrupted she. The composed and decided tone in which she uttered these few words sent an ice-bolt to his heart. “I learn, Mr. Brady, that you contemplate a union with your cousin Flora. Now, sir, do you know who wrote this letter ? ” “No—certainly not. It is anonymous, and relates to certain reports—” “ Yes, sir; you presented it to me, one even ing, and I preserved it purposely, for the wri ter is well-known to me.” “To you! Astonishing! Name the wretch, and 1 will—” “You will marry tho one who dictated it all—is not that what you would say ?” “For Heaven’s sake explain ! ” “ I will,” returned Eliza, calmly. “I knew the handwriting at the first glance. It was written by a certain widow, or, rather, one who passes for a widow, for she was divorced from her husband. This widow is an intimate friend of your cousin Flora, and the language of the letter is that of your affianced bride.” “0 stupid! ” ejaculated the young man. “I recollect; this accounts for all. Every thing is now made plain. Monster ! I have often been mystified by the conduct of my cousin, and only yesterday I came suddenly upon her while in converiation with that same widow. Both started, and my cousin looked much agitated. The ‘widow’ gave me a glance, as she retired from the apartment, that lias dwelt unpleasantly upon my memory ever since. Now I trace those injurious reports to the right source. How weak I have been! Nothing is now left for me but to—” He threw himself at the feet of Miss B . “Rise, sir! ” cried the young lady. “Our interview is over.” “ 0, Eliza ! you cannot have forgotten—” “I have forgotten nothing, sir. Nay, I love you still, and shall suffer far more acutely, until the day of my release from earthly sor row, —far more acutely than thyself. But we Can never be united, and unless, as in the present case, an interview is absolutely nec essary to preserve you from some terrible misfortune, we must never meet more. I shall, however, watch over your welfare. The proof of my undying regard will be shown by making myself serviceable to you on every occasion, where such a thing is pos sible. I pity and love you ! ” For a mo ment she paused ; there was an almost imper ceptible softening in her tone; “and be as sured that if was not fully persuaded that our union would he unfortunate to yourself, I would I gladly renew our intercourse.” “How can you imagine that the dearest wish of my heart—” “Mr. Brady, the man who has once doubted the truth and virtue of a woman, has given the most unanswerable proof that he can nev er be happy with her. Farewell! ” Miss B left the room, and Brady felt that he had seen her for the last time. What a change a few brief moments had wrought! Stunned and not knowing whither his foot steps tended, the unhapy lover wandered into a part of the city -which was infested by black legs of the fashionable stamp—young men of family, and some of them possessed of ample means. One of these, who had formerly been acquainted with Brady, but whom the latter had avoided of late years, slapped our hero on the back and cried : “Hallo, Brady! in the dumps to-day?— What ho ! cheer up, man! ” Brady looked up. A cheerful face met his glance. Brilliant, laughing eyes and ruddy checks greeted him witli a smile of kindly re cognition. “ Where do you hide yourself? Not seen you in a month of Sundays. That’s not the way to live ; don’t wonder you are blue. Live while you can, and take sorrow on the let alone principle. Come, now, you’re in love, I dare say.” We must not repeat all that was said on that occasion; but Brady was open to sympathy, and was soon engaged in discussing cham pagne with Munson. 11c was soon afterward introduced to certain celebrated beauties by liis new friends. Reckless—perfectly reckless of consequences, poor Brady learned to drink and play. The shock which he had received was too much for an ardent mind like his, and he became unsettled, neglectful of business, and fond of excitement. While his money lasted, lie maintained a decent appearance among his former friends, and it was not till his bankruptcy was an nounced that even Eliza B suspected the extravagence into which he had been led. Before she had recovered from the sad an nouncement, she learned that he had left the country. Miss B was possessed of groat wealth, and as soon as she discovered that her late lover was a penniless wanderer in foreign lands, she lost no time in preparing to follow and aid him with her purse. We will not follow them in their peregrina tions. Accompanied by an aged Englishman, who had been the servant of her father, Eliza was near the unhappy lover during all the varied scenes through which he subsequently passed, and iu moments of adversity, sudden relief came to him from unknown sources. Strangers took him by the hand, and offered him the means of establishing himself in re spectable business. When in prison, and hopeless of escape, he was supplied with the most raro delicacies, and his situation render ed us comfortable as possible. He often won dered at these things, hut never suspected that a guardian angel was near, that the eye of measureless love was ever fixed upon him, and that all his hardships was observed and sonio of them even shared by the beautiful Eliza B . Even in the terrible engagement between the Essex and two British-men-of-war, the faithful girl, disguised in the dress of a Span ishjmaiden, beheld the whole affair from the top of an adjacent hill, imploring Heaven, at the discharge of every broadside, that her lover might escape unharmed. Little did Brady suspect that, when he returned to the United States in the Essex Jr., the beloved of his heart was a passenger in the same vessel. All that Eliza could do for her lover, did not suffice to change his mode of life. When lie received money, he spent it among his ship mates. lie was utterly reckless and improvi dent. This was the man whose dead body lay upon the gun-deck ot’ the frigate B , and Eliza was the lady who come on board to take her final leave of our gallon! but reckless ship mate. Eliza did not long survive her lover. On her return to i’hiladelphia, alter the de cease of poor Brady, she sunk into a letnar gic condition—a state rather of stupefaction than of melancholy, from which her phvsi cians could only arouse her by pronouncing the name of Brady. She would then open her eyes, glance around the apartment, and relapse quickly into her former state. Thus she remained several weeks, when she quiet ly expired. TELEGRAPHIC. Telegraphed to the Daily Sun From New Orleans. New Orleans, O c t. 18, The sales of cotton to-day reached sixty five hundred bales at an eighth to a quarter lower. Middling 11A to ll|c. ‘Tallow 11c.; Pork $21.50; Freights un changed. From the N. Y. Sun. Shoes and their Manufacture. Everybody wears shoes, and the shops for their fabrication, and stores for their sale cither singly or combined, are to be found upon almost every square in those parts of town devoted to trade, yet few imagine how extensive and ramified in this traffic, or how large a part of the population is engaged, di rectly or indirectly, in their manufacture.— The shoemaker, in addition to the leather used in making shoes, requires many tools for his “kit” —as lasting tacks to secure liis work on the last, knives to trim, awls to pierce, thread and bristles to sow, lapstone and hammer to consolidate the leather, and a variety of little articles too numerous to mention. All of these are tevmed findings, and are to be met with at establishments devoted to the sale ot these articles. We will probably as tonish some of our readers when we inform them that the various little articles which are in demand in the occupation of shoemaking, and are to be purchased at Finding establish ments, number between four and five hundred, and tax labor in remote parts of the world for their production, which litle dreams of the use to which it was ultimately to be applied. Thus, the flax from which shoe thread is made is grown by the peasants of Northern Russia! and is shipped to England and this country from Archangel. Ireland likewise produces flax, but its use in the fabrication of linen goods of different kinds is found to be more profitable than its conversion into shoe thread and Archangel in Russia is left in undisputed possession of this field of labor. Our own flax is not found to be well adapted to this use, and fortunately, owing to the limit, in its use induced by the discovery of the art of making shoe pegs by machinery, the price has not large ly increased. Before 1816 all the pegs used in shoes were made by hand. About this period several claimants for the process of making them by machinery appeared, and by their rivalry aided in bringing the mode of making them to such perfection, as to reduce their price to four, three, two, and finally to one dollar per bushel, at which price they are now sold in large quantities to our own shoemakers, and likewise shipped to a considerable extent to foreign countries. We may readily imagine the unbelief of the shoemaker, who, in the early days of the discovery, was interrupted in his work by the entrance of a genuine son of New England, who offered to sell him a gal lon or a bushel of shoe pegs—a quantity which, according to his own labor in making them, he thought impossible to accumulate. This little invention has produced a revolu tion in the shoe trade, whose extent can hard ly be estimat ed. At present four-fifths of the boots and shoes for men’s wear made in this country are pegged. Formerly all the articles usually found in shoe finding establishments, were imported. At present, with the exception of sewing awls, lasting tacks, shoe pinchers, silk galloons, worsted lasting, silk, and linen latchets, and about 25 per cent, of the shoe thread used, these are fabricated in various parts of the United States, chiefly in the New England States, New York and New Jersey. This change has been gradual but regular, and is now so well established that there is little probability of our ever seeking for these arti cles from abroad, but an exceedingly strong one of our supplying other countries with t hose of our own manufacture. The shoe finder has of late years associated with his former business that of supplying the sho trade with leather, which has not only greatly enlarged his business, but demanded the outlay'of a large amount of capital. The greater number of the houses engaged in this trade in New York, are to be found in the neighborhood of the intersection of Gold, Spruce and Ferry streets, in close proximity with the large dealers in leather and hides.— A tvalk through the well stored warehouses of those engaged in these three departments of trade tributary to shoemaking, will show what large stocks in the hands of the principal dealers are necessary to furnish the materials from which this general want of the commu nity is supplied. Os the materials thus described, boots and shoes are fabricated either in large manufac tories, as in some of the New England States, and especially Massachusetts, or, as in New York and most other places, in the dwellings of the workmen. After the work is cut. out it is given to the binder, who is a female, to pre pare the upper, or is sent to a sewing machine) now much in use among shoe dealers, for the same purpose. It is then handed over to the shoemaker, who carries it to his dwelling, and returns it in the form of completed work. Most of the work is done by the piece, and varies in price according to the kind. The shoe binder receives from four to fifty cents per pair for binding, and the shoemaker from 25 cents to $1 50 for shoes, and from $1 S' l to $3 for boots. But whatever the price p* l piece muy be, the daily wages are about the same, averaging for binders about 50 cents, and for shoemakers $1 per day. It fe seldom that the wages of the former much exceed this amount, or of the latter above $8 per week. In order to earn the average prices above indi cated, it requires that the laborer shall work faithfully ten hours per day, and few are eith er able or willing to sit longer at their tasks. The number of persons engaged in shoe-ma king or the proportion they bear to the whole population cannot bo accurately told, as the census returns in this particular are very de fective. in Massachusetts, where the return were more accurate than in most of the btates, and where the number of shoemakers is gre-j ter than elsewhere, they amounted to 31.9 • and embraced a larger number of person^ than any other department of industry, excel - agriculture. Yet, notwithstanding the large number >j> engaged, the demand for shoes is so great til* those engaged in the trade complain ot t ie scarcity both of binders and shoemakers-” Whether this demand for labor, and elevatim in the price of materials, will ultimately mi ‘ the wages of the workmen, and the l ,rlCt ’ shoes, or whether machinery will will be m- 1 ” to supply the plaee of hand labor, is n l 1 '” lent which the future must solve.