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THE SOUTHERN SENTINEL
Is published every Thursday Morning,
IN COLUMBUS, GA.
BY WILLIAM H. CHAMBERS,
EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
To whom all c<munuuieation.?rriti?tl>e directed, post paid. ■
OJke on Randolph Street.
Terms of Subscription.
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months, and none discontinued until all arrearages are
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company the names, or the price of a single subscription
wiH be charged.
Rates of Advertising.
One Square, first’insertion, - - $1 00
“ “ Each subsequent insertion, - 50
A liberal deduction on these terms will be made in favor
of those who advertise by the year.
Advertisements not specified as to time, will be pub
lished till forbid, and charged accordingly.
Monthly Advertisements will be charged as new Ad
vertisements at each insertion.
Legal Advertisements.
N. R—Sales of Lands, by Administrators, Ex
ecutors, or Guardians,are required by law to beheld on
the tir.t Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10
in tin; forenoon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court
House in the county in which the land is situated. No
tices of these sales mu-t lie given in a public gazette
sixty days previous to the day of sale.
Sales of Nforoes must be made at a public auction
on tlu- first Tuesday of the month, between the usual
hours of sale, at the place of public sabs in the county
where the Is-tter* Testamentary, of Administration or
Guardianship.may have been granted, first giving sixty
dats notice thereof in one of the public gazettes of this
State, and at the door of the Court House, where such
sales are to be held.
Notice for the sale of Personal property must be give n
in like manner forty days previous to the day of sale.
Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an estate must
be published FORTY pays.
Notice that application w ill be made to the Court of
Ordinary for leave to sell Land, musj be published for
rot-R MONTHS.
Notice for leave to sell Negroes must be published for
four months, before any order absolute shall be made
thereon by the Court.
Citations for Letters of Administration, must be pub
lished thirty days—for dismission from administration,
monthly six months —for dismission fiom Guardianship,
FORTY DAYS.
Rites for the foreclosure of a Mortgage must be pub
lielied monthly for fovr months —for establishing lost
papers, tor the full stage of three months —for com
pelling titles from Executors or Administrators, where a
Ifond has ben given by the deceased, the full space of
three months.
Publications will always be continued according to
these legal requirements, unless otherwise ordered.
SOUTHERN SENTINEL
Job Office.
HAVING received anew and extensive assortment
of Job Material, we are prepared to execute at
this office, all orders for JOB WORK,in amanner which
can not be excelled in the .State, on very liberal terms,
and at the shortest notice.
We feel confident of our ability to give entire .satisfac
tion in every variety of Job Printing, including*
Boohs, Business Cards,
Pamphlets, Bill Heads,
Circulars, ’ Blanks of every description,
Hand Bills, Bills of Lading,
Posters, tyc. i$ c.
In short, all descriptions of Printing which can be ex
ecuted at any office in the country, will be turned out
with elegance and despatch.
Dyeing and Renovating Establishment.
BERTHOLD SENGF.R
WOULD respectfully inform the ladies and gentle
men of Columbus, and vicinity, that he is still at
his old stand on Broad Street, near the Market, where
he is prepared to execute all work entrusted to him, in
the various departments of
Dveiu;', Scouring, Renovating, & Bleaching
new and old clothing. Ladies’ Silk'*, Mcrinoes, and
Katin*, cleansed of stains and unpuntic?, and colored to
any shade. Also finished to look and wear as well as
new’.
Cotton, Silk, and Woolen floods bleached or dyed, in
the very beet manner, and with despatch.
Also, Moserinc Blue, Turkey Red, &.c. -scc.
Gentlemen’s garments cleansed and dyed so as not
to soil the whitest linen.
Carpeting renovated and made as good as new.
J3r .All orders thankfully received and promptly ex
ecuted.
Columbus, March 21. 1850. 12 ts
Planters, Take Notice.
Saw Mills , Crist Mills, Factories, Gin Gear,
Rice Mills, and Sugar Mills.
rpHF. firm of AMBLER & MORRIS are now
JL reade to build any of the. above-named Mills,pro
j>cll©d by Water. Steam or Horse. Our work shall
done in the best possible manner, and warranted inferior
to none now in use. Both ol the above firm are practi
cal men, and attend to their business in person, and will
furrir-h Engines for Steam Mills. Grist or Saw, and set
either in complete operation. The firm can give the best
assortment of Water Wheels and Gearing, of any in
the Southern States, and will say to our employers, if a
Mill or any of our work does not perform in the busi
ness for which it was intended, no pay will be exacted.
Trv us and see. AMBLER Sc MORRIS.
Jan. 21, 1850. . 4 !y
Important
TO MILL OWNERS AND PLANTERS.
rpHE undersigned will contract for building Rocx
JL Dams, or anv kind of rock work and ditching, in
anv part of till” State or Georgia, in the most improve-!
manner. TIMOTHY B. COLLINS,
Fort Mitchell, Russell, County, Ala. _
Dec. 6, 1819. 49 Cm
To Physicians, Druggists
COUNTRY MERCHANTS.
DR. J. N. KEELER 1&. BRO. most respectfully
solicit attention to their fresh stock of English,
French,German and American Drugs. Medicine*,Cnem
icals. Faints, Oils, Dye-stutVe. Glassware,Perfumery, See.
Having opened anew - store, No. 291 Market St., with a
full supply of Fresh Drugs and Medicine?, we respect
fully solicit country dealers to examine our stock before
purchasing elsewhere, promising one and all who may
be disposal to extend us their patronage, to sell them
genuine Drugs and Medicines, on as liberal terms as any
other house in the city, and to faithfully execute all or
ders entrusted to us promptly and with dispatch. One of
the proprietors being a regular physician, affords ample
guarantee of the quality ot all articles sold at their es
tablishment . We especially invite druggists and country
merchants, who may wish to become agents for Dr.
Keeler’s Celebrated Family Medicines, (standard and
popular medicines,) to forward their address. Soliciting
the patronage of dealers, we respectfully remain
KEELER or LKO.
Wholesale Druggists, No. 919 Market St., Phil a.
Oct H. 1819. iy
Marble Works,
East side Broad St. near the Market House,
COLUMBUS, GA.
HAVE constantly on hand all kinds of Grave Stones,
Vonumenfs, Tombs and Tablets, of American,
Italian and Irish Marble. Engraving and carving !
done on stone in the Inst possible manner ; and all kinds :
of Granite Work at the shorte^nofiett,
P. S.—Plaister of Paris and Cement, always on hand
for sale. •
Columbus, March 7, 1850. *
WINTER’S PALACE 31 ILLS.
1 FAMILIES, by leaving their-names with me, can be ,
supplied regularly by my W agon, at their residences,
with MEAL and HOMINY, of best quality. j
JO. JEFFERSON, Clerk. !
Feb, 28, 1850. __ *_
NORTH CAROLINA
Blutnal Life Insurance Company.
LOCATED AT RALEIGH, N. C.
rpHF. Charter of tins company gives important advan
tages to the assured, over most other companies.
The husband can insure his own life for the sole use and
benefit of his wife and children, free from any other j
claims. Persons who insure tor life participate in the
profits which are declared annually, and when the pre- 1
maun exceeds S3O, may pay one-halt’ in a note.
Slaves are insured at two-thirds their v alue for one or
five years. ,
Applications for Risks may be made to
JUMIS Ml NN,
Apent. Columbus, Ga.
Office at Greenwood & Co.’s Wart-house.
Nov. 15,1849. *_
WINTER’S PALACE MILLS
HAVE now a coon supply of fresh gronnd Flour, of
three qualities; say FINE, SUPERFINE, and
FANCY brands; each kind is made from the best of
Western Wheat, and the only difference is the color.
The urice bv retail is. for Fine, $3 per half barrel; Su
perfine S3 25 per half barrel; Fancy, $3 50 per half
barrel. Discount made to those who buy to sell again.
Quarter barrels arc sold proportionately cheap.
JO JEbFEUSON, Clerk.
Dec 27 1849. 57*
VOL. I.
Written at My Mother’s Grave.
BY GEORGE D. PRENTICE.
The trembling dew drops fall
Upon the shutting flowers—like souls at rest—
The stars shine gloriously—and all,
Save one, is blest.
Mother —I love thy grave f
The violet, with it? blossoms blue and mild,
Waves o’er thy head—when shall it wave
Above thy child ?
’Tis a sweet flower—yet must
Its bright leaves to the coming tempest bow,
Dear mother—'us thine emblem—dust
Is on thy brow 1
And I could love to die —
To leave untasted life’s dark, bitter streams
By thee, as erst in childhood, lie,
And share thy dreams.
And must I linger here
To stain the pluming? of my sinless years,
And mourn the hopes to childhood dear
With bitter tears ?
Aye—must I linger here,
A lonely branch upon a blasted tree,
Whose last frail le-af, untimely sere,
Went down with thee I
Oft from life’s withering bower,
In'still communion with the past I tum,
And inusc on thee, the only flower
In memory’s urn.
And, when the evening pale,
Bows like a mourner on the dim, blue wave,
I stray to hear the night-winds wail,
Around thy grave.
Where is thy spirit flown !
I gaze above—thy look is imaged there—
-1 listen and thy gentle tone
Is on the air.
Oh come—whilst here I press
My brow upon thy grave—and, in those mild
And thrilling tones of tenderness,
Bless, bless, thy child ?
Yes, bless thy weening child.
And o’er thy um—religion’s holiest shrine—
Oh give his spirit undetiled
To blend with thine.
RECTITUDE OF THE DIVINE ADMIN
ISTRATION.
A DISCOURSE.
Suggested by the Death of the Hon. John C. Calhoun.
Delivered in the Methodist Church of Columbia,
S. C., on Sunday, April 7, 1850, by the Rev.
YVhiteford Smith, D. D.
“ Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right)”
[Genesis xvhi, 25.]
The interrogation of the text, my Christian
brethren, implies two great truths. The first,
that there is a God, whose superintending prov
idence is over all his works. The second, that
it is impossible for Him to do wrong. Nor let it
be supposed that these are abstract truths, which I
have no application to the practical affairs of I
life; for, in the perpetual vicisitude of human j
fortune, in the innumerable trials and afflictions j
incident to mortal life, what support can be I
found for the heirs of sorrow like that which is j
furnished by the consideration that a just and j
gracious God presides over the universe, direct- j
irig and controlling all its events, for purposes j
of infinite w isdom and goodness? And espe
cially, when the dispensation of lTis providence
are inscrutable and mysterious; when all the !
powers of reason are inadequate to comprehend
his designs; what other refuge is there for the
mind and heart, but an humble and faithful re
liance on the essential attributes of God ? Thus, !
when the cities of the plain were doom
ed to destruction, and it pleased the Almigh
ty to reveal to his servant Abraham their ap
proaching overthrow, and when the patri
arch became the intercessor, and would plead
their cause, the strong argument with which he
emboldened himself before his Maker, was the
language of the text, “Shall not the Judge of all
the earth do right ?” And when the judgment
was executed, and Abraham looked, “and lo!
the 6moke of the country went up as the smoke
of a furnace,,” though he might mourn over
their ruin, vet doubtless, his heart was sustain
ed by its faith in the rectitude of the Divine Ad
ministration. So, too, when the tidings of
disaster upon disaster came to Job, until the in
elligence of his affliction seemed too much for
nature to sustain, “he fell down upon the
ground and worshipped,” saying, “Naked came
I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I
return hither: the Lord gave and the Lord hath
taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
How much more accordant with the dignity
of man and the teachings of a pure philosophy,
is such a submission to the behests of heaven,
than the frantic ravings of an Atheist, who would
fain deny the existence of the hand beneath
whose blow he falls!
In the history of nations, as well as in the ex
perience of individuals, there are constantly oc
curring occasions for the exercise of these salu- j
tary reflections. For national calamities as j
well as for private griefs, there is the same hea- ;
venly solace—“the Lord hath prepared his j
throne in the heavens, and his kingdom ruleth ;
over all.
You will readily perceive the appropriateness !
of these thoughts to our present circumstances, j
But the last Sabbath, the pleasant chime of the ;
church-going bells was suddenly changed into
the slow and §olemn toll—the death-knell of the
departed. With electric rapidity w’ere the ti
dings spread, that one of the most illustrious of
our country’s Senators was numbered with the
dead. That he who, was but a few days before,
with the promise of returning strength, had lift
ed up his voice in the Capitol in defence of the
dearest interests of his State, was now no more.
The loss of this distinguished statesman is re
cognized as a national affliction. His name has
long been inscribed upon his country’s bright
est page, enrolled among her most honored
sons. But to the State which gave him birth,
and to which he ever acknowledged his first
legiancc due, his loss is no ordinary bereave
ment When a good and virtuous man dies,
whose generous acts have endeared him to the
community in which he lived, Iriends and neigh
bors gather around his bier, and many a tear of
sympathy is 6hed. But there is a deeper sor
row felt by those who knew him as husband,
father, brother. Theirs is a grief which stran
gers cannot know; and the habitation which
his presence invested with joy is filled with
“mourning, lamentation and wo.” Such is the
affliction of South Carolina at the death of the
late Hon. John C. Calhoun. *
Your attention might be occupied with the re
cital of his career. The virtues which adorn
his character; the profound phylosophy which
displayed itself in all he said; the utter forget
fulness of self in his devotion to his State and
country, might well form the theme of a long
discourse. But these appropriately belong to
another occasion. They will be w ritten upon
the pages of history—they will be engraven up
on the hearts of posterity.
You will allow me to tum your attention now
to those sacred lessons which most befit the day,
and which this mournful event is well calculated
to impress on every breast
If the first lesson we should learn from this
affliction be drawn directly-from the text, it will
be an acknowledgment of the justice ot God,
and submission to his will. Revealed religion
affords the only rational view of the divine na
ture. While it proclaims the supremacy of
| God, it exhibits all his attributes in perfect har.
j mony. His benevolence is not lost amid the
| aulic reign; nor justice forgotten in the exercise
iof an infinite compassion- His eternal wisdom
®je Sentinel,
directs his almighty power; and although “his
judgments are unsearchable, and his ways past
finding out,” they aro stli consistent w ith his
essential goodness. Though “clouds and dark
ness are round about him, yet righteousness and
judgment are the habitation of his throne.” Un
fortunately for us, it is but too characteristic of
our fallen nature to murmur at the dispensa
tions of an all-wise Providence, because we can
not comprehend its purposes; and foolishly to
judge the act of Heaven rather than piously
submit to his will. We forget that our trailty
should teach us our dependence, and that our
ignorance should prompt us to faith. When
the dearest hopes we have cherished are.blight
ed in an hour, and the props upon which we
have leaned arc suddenly removed, instead of
turning our eyes upward and exhorting our
hearts to trust in God, we look only to the des
olation around us, and “sorrow even as others
which have no hope.” We challenge the wis
dom of the dispensation which we cannot un
derstand, and often impute injustice to the mor
al Governor of the world. Forgetful that our
sins have deserved chastisement, we are resist
ful under the stroke of his hand. Forgetful of
the mercy that gave, we think only of the
judgment which has taken away. Our grati
tude for the benefaction we have long enjoyed
is lost in our grief for its removal; and our
thoughts of God are frequently as ungrateful
as they are unjust. Such, iny brethren, is the
gloom which surrounds us when we cast aside
the word of inspired truth, and depend upon
the uncertain teachings of darkened reason—
when w r e forget.
“The divinity that stirs within us;
that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man ;”
and look only to the brief and little interests that
attach to our present state. The brightest il
lustrations of a fortitude that endures without
complaint, of a heroism that triumphs over all
obstruction, investing humanity with a dignity
more than earthly, have been found in those
whose faith had based itself upon the word of
God, and whose gaze was fixed, not upon the
fading glories of this world, but upon that exalt
ed and enduring scene.
“ Wlicre seraphs gather immortality from life’s tree.’’
The eye of sense can discover in many a dis
pensation of Providence naught but “shadows,
clouds and darkness;” but the eye of faith
piercing through the gloom, discerns far beyond
the all-guiding hand, and relies for safety and
for succour upon him who dwells in the ineffa
ble brightness. What though the dispensation
be shrouded in mysterious darkness? What
though the infinite designs exceed our thoughts?
“Bhall mortal man be more just than God?”—
Shall we charge the Almighty with injustice,
because he has not made us his counsellors'?
There wili come a day when God will vindicate
his own administration—when the results of
his present operati®ns shall have developed
thsmselves—when the mind in its nobler state
shall be freed from the shackles of ignorance
and prejudice and error which encircle it here—
when truth will assert her prerogative—when
the light of eternity shall shine upon all his
works; —and then shall every heart acknowl
edge his justice, his wisdom and his goodness.
When the sensual shall have shrunk into his
own corruption, and the spiritual shall have
ascended to its own immortality, then shall the
Just One receive universal homage, and the
righteousness of Cod shall be the splendor of
his throne.
If we consider the relation in which we stand
to our great Creator, it will be the dictate of
reason, as it is the doctrine of revelation, that
we should yield implicit submission to his will.
If there is any good use to which adversity may
be made sufficient, it is the part of wisdom to
find it out. A repining fretfulness over misfor
tune never lightened the burden nor brought
comfort to the complaining spirit; and an hum
ble acknowledgment of the w ord of God, and a
meek submission to his chastenings, have often
brought tranquiiity to the troubled heart, and
lighted with the ray of celestial hope the other
wise impenetrable gloom.
It is permitted the Christian to regard every
afflictive dispensation either as part of the dis
cipline by which he is fitted for heaven, or as a
visitation of mercy sent him in disguise. The
restraints which are exercised over passion may
be painful, nevertheless they are necessary and
good. The heavens may be clothed with black
ness, yet they teem with fertilizing rains. The
thunder-storm may be terrible to the eye, yet it
may purify the noxious air. In the whole econ
omy of nature lias God instituted such analogies
that we may learn to trust him in the darkest
hours, and u ider the severest trias of faith. De
prived of such a comlurt as this trust iti God
inspires, many a grief were too intolerable to
be borne—
“A night that gloom? us in the noontide ray,
And warps our thought at banquets, in the shroud.”
Another important lesson which the late
mournful event is well calculated to teach us,
is the frailty and vanity of man. Death ought
to be at all times impressive; but when he has
selected “a shining mark,” and his victim is ta
ken from among the luminaries of the land—
when the eye of genius is dimmed, and and the
voice of the eloquent orator is hushed in ever
lasting silence, and the wisdom of the prudent
counsellor has perished—then with w’hat force*
come the words of-inspiration—“ Let not the
wise man glory in his wisdom, neither let the
mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich
man glory in his riches.”
However melancholly it may be to witness the
instability of all human good, the impotency of
man to resist the progress of decay, and the
power of death—to behold the bright and intel
lectual light extinguished in the darkness of thd’
grave, and the overthrow of high hopes and no
ble aspirations; it is w-ell that we should pause
and linger upon the painful subject, for though
the countenance may be sad, yet the heart may
be made better. The busy scene in which we
live naturally takes up our thoughts and atten
tion, and it is with difficulty that they are called
off’ to the contemplation of truths that are su
perlative, and which we consider as standing at
a distance from us. The senses, immagination
and passions are perpetually crowding the mind
with objects of their own, and amidst the noise
and tumult of these, the still voice of reason is
not easily heard. But when a great calamity
has overtaken us, when we stand in the pres
ence of death, and learn that no human skill
could avert the blow, no human love could pro
cure even a postponement of the doom, the
united voice of reason and inspiration loudly
cry, “this is the end of all—let the living lay it
to his heart.” How powerful a corrective is
this, to the natural pride of man. If in the hour of
prosperity he forgets the mortal, and imagines
that his mountain stands strong, let him consid
er the day of adversity which shall surely come;
for “God hath set the one over against tho oth
er.” Let him not look alone at the grandeur of
his present state, and be unmindful of the des
tiny which awaits him; but rather let him “set
his house in order, for he shall die and not live.”
“For he seeth that wis men die, likewise the fool
and the brutish person perish, and leave their
wealth to others.”
“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th’ inevitable hour, .
The paths of glory lead—but to the grave.”
With how strong an appeal do such reflections
come to us to-day. But the other day, and he
whom we now mourn occupied his place among
the great men of our nation and of the world.
His was no common mind —his no ordinary
; fame. His country honored him and the world
i admired; but alas! what availed the quick per
: ception, the keen sagacity, the profound analy
| sis, and all the varied stores of a capacious
mind ? The mighty champion in many a field
of intellectual strife stood powerless here. The
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING,. MAY 2, 1850.
great destroyer respected not the badges of his
high distinction, but seized as another trophy of
all-conquering Death.
The duty of the preacher would be but par
tially performed, if he withheld another lesson
which this occasion eminently suggests. One
of the most appropriate duties which this be
reavement is calculated to impress upon the
minds of the people of this State, is to place
their trust less on man and more on God. Such
was the honor and veneration in which our de
parted Senator was held—so proud were we of
his genius and exalted worth—that we were in
danger of forgetting our dependence upon God,
in our reliance on the wisdom and patriotism
of man. “Cease from man, whose breath is in
his nostrils,” is the command of God, and “put
not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man,
in whom there is no help.” And yet though
constantly admonished of the frailty of such
support, how prone are we to rely upon the
creature to the neglect of the Creator. When
one of our fellows whom God has highly en
dowed, and raised up in his providence for some
great occasion, appears among us, and is the
instrument of our deliverance—when his coun
sels are wise and safe, and his firmness and
courage eminently qualify him for our defence,
and under his leadership we have been success
ful, how natural is it for us to repose on him in
seasons of peril, and to conclude that all is well
under his vigilant supervision. If such views
be only restrained within their proper limit, and
an humble trust in God be cultivated—if we
think not of men more highly than we ought to
think; but regard them as the instrument* of a
superintending power; if we transfer notour
faith from its proper object, God—then it is but
an act of justice and gratitude to honor those
whose services have been beneficial or saved
the commonwealth. But whenever we go be
yond the proper bound, and place that confi
dence in man which we should put iu God
alone, we lay the foundation for future dis
appointment ; for it is written—“ Cursed be the
man that, trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his
atm, and whose heart departeth from tho Lord.”
In the present embarrassed and threatening
position of our public affairs, there is dan
ger, my brethren, lest we have been looking too
much to an arm of flesh to save us, and too
little to our God. While the storm has been
raging, we have been sleeping quietly, because
we had confidence in the skill of those to whom
the. national interests were intrusted. The re
moval from among us of such a man, at such a
time, should awaken us all to the necessity of
calling upon God, and making him our trust.
Our true security lies in his protection and bless
ing ; and our inward peace, amid the tumult
which may range around, will be proportioned
to our faith in him. It may be well for us to
consider how far such may be the purpose of
God in our present affliction. If the triumph
ant gpnius who could devise the way of
our deliverance from the evils which now im
pend, our natural proneness to rely on man
might only be increased. But if we feel that
those in whom we trusted are taken away,
shall it not lead us to supplicate more earn
estly the aid of God and to give the glory
of deliverance to him w’ho alone can effect it?
Nor let us be forgetful of the experience of the
past-? How many emergencies have arisen in the
history of our country, and in the history of all
nations, when the timid and trembling heart
has looked around for an earthly deliverer; and
mourned that those on whom it was accustom
ed to rely has been taken away ? And yet, with
every such exigency has God interposed and
either in his providence turned aside the ill, or
raised up such men as were suited to the times.
Such remembrances should encourage us to
day. When the devoted band of Apostles had
been removed from the early Church, God rais
ed up “the noble army of martyrs.” When a
sepulchral gloom again enshrouded her, he
gave the great Reformer. Turn then your eyes
to him who kindled that light whose extinction
you now deplore, and learn to trust his good
ness, as well as to fear his power.
It is a merciful ordination of Heaven, that ev
en our heaviest afflictions may be sanctified,
and the very events which we bewail as ad
versities, may be converted into blessings.—
Tnough this be now beyond our comprehension,
let our faith joyfully receive it. “We have heard
with our ears, our fathers have told us what
work God did in their days, in the times of
old.” Let our reliance be on him. The God
of our fathers is our God, and he will still be
our guide. Oh! if in this time of our national
distress and darkness, it shall please him to
cause the light of his countenance to be lifted
up upon us, the lowering clouds shall become
luminous with his presence,
“And sorrow, touched by Him, grows bright,
With more than rapture’s ray,
As darkness show’s us worlds of light
We never saw by day.”
May we not already discern the first gleam of
blessed light in the subduing and softening
iufluence which the death of our distinguished
statesman has produced among his own com
peers? Who can turn his eye to that touching
spectacle presented in the Senate of our coun
try, when the announcement of his death was
made, and not be moved? Upon the field of po
litical conflict the living Senator had found his
foes. They, too, w r ere men of giant minds. They
had entered that erena together in early life.
They had often met in warm debate, espousing
opposite opinions, and defending them with all
their strength. They strove together often for
the mastery. But when a-mightier than they
had come, and Death proclaimed himself the
victor there, the survivors felt the transitori
ness of human glory,they dropped the tear of
fraternal sorrow, and their genius wove for the
pale brow of their departed rival the brightest
garland which he ever wore. And who shall
say but that even there, where the war of words
and passions has been waged most hotly, the
animosities of party shall not be forgotten in the
deep-felt grief of every heart, and the pure pat
riotism of the mighty dead infuse its spirit into
the souls of the living?
And now, my brethren, it only remains that
I conclude these remarks as I began them,’ by
exhorting them to an unwavering confidence in
the rectitude of the divine administration. Ma
ny will be the trials of our faith, but they will be
ordered in mercy. It is this heaven appointed
principle alone that shall bear us up under the
manifold sorrows of life. But it has always
conquered, so shall it prove triumphant to the
last. Through many a scence of perplexity and
sorrow our path may lie; but this shall lead us
out into the land of light beyond. When the
fierce temptation shall assail you, or your ene
mies for awhile, exult—on every such occasion
let the Patriarch’s language be yours—“ Shall
not the Judge of all the earth do right ?” The up
rightness of your heart and the integrity of your
life shall then support your minds; and the
infinite and eternal merits of our Lord Jesus
Christ shall be your justification and your glory:
Unto w’hom, in the unity of the Father and the
Holy Ghost, let us unite in ascribing all honor
and power, might, majesty and blessing, for
ever. Amen.
Very Cool. —An apparently unsophistica
ted youth went into a refectory a few days
since, and asked for something to appease
his hunger. The keeper gave him a very
good dinner, after which the youth said to his
friend. “If you ever come up our way call.”
“That won’t pay. Your dinner is a quarter.”
“Oh, I hain’t got any money ; but if you’ll
come up to Alleghany county, I’ll give you a
better dinner for nothing.” “Why,” said the
keeper, “you are very cool.” “Why, yes,
I’m a very cool chap, so much so that moth
er always makes me stand in the pantry, in
hot weather, to keep meat from spoiling.”
REV. PETER CARTWRIGHT,
TIIE JOCOSE PREACHER.
A GENUINE PORTRAIT FROM LIFE IN ILLINOIS.
Immense was the gathering at the Metho
dist camp-ground near Springfield, on the se
cond Sunday in September. 183*2. A pow
erful magnet had attracted this great mass of
people from their homes in many counties
for a hundred miles around. The new presi
ding elder, a late arrival from Kentucky, an
orator of wide-spread and wonderful renown,
it was known would thunder on that day.
The glittering prestige of his fame had light
ened far before him, and hence the universal
eagerness to see and hear one concerning
whom rumor’s trumpet tongue discoursed so
loudly.
Morning broke in the azure east, bl ight and
beautiful as a dream of heaven ; but the ex
pected prodigy had not made his advent.
Eleven o’clock came—the usual hour for the
detonation of the heavy guns of orthodoxy—
and still there was no news of the clerical
lion. A common circuit rider took his place,
and sensible of the popular disappointment,
increased it by mouthing a miserable failure.
The vexed and restless crowd began to
disperse, when an event happened to excite
afresh their curiosity, and concentrate them
again denser than ever. A messenger rush
ed to the pulpit in hot haste, and presented a
note which was immediately read out, to pre
vent the people from scattering. r iTie follow
ing is a literal copy of that singular epistle:
“Dear Brethren—The devil has foundered
my horse, which will detain me from reach
ing your tabernacle till evening.’ I might
have performed the journey on foot, but I
could not leave poor Paul, especially as he
never left poor Peter. Horses have no souls
to save, and therefore it’s all the more the du
ty of Christians to take care of their bodies.
Watch and pray, and don’t let the devil get
among you on the sly before candle-light,
when 1 shall be at my post.
Your brother,
Peter Cartwright.”
In fashionable phrase, the reading of this
strange effusion “produced quite a sensation.”
Some thought the man mad ; others deemed
the letter a hoax. But still the effect as to
one particular was unquestionable; it height
ened and intensified the public curiosity ; and
such, very likely, was the precise result inten
ded by the writer. At length the day closed.
The purole curtain of twilight fell over the
earth from the darkening sky. God’s gold
en fires flashed out in heaven, and men below
kindled their pale candles. The encamp
ment, a village of snowy tents, was illumin
ated with a brilliancy that caused every leaf
of the grove to shine and sparkle as if all the
trees were burnished with phosphorescent
flame. It was like a theatre. It was a thea
tre in the open air, on the green sward, be
neath the starry blue, incomparably more
picturesque and gorgeous than any stage
scenery ever prepared within walls of brick
or marble, where the elite of imperial cities
throng to feast their eyes on beauty and their
ears on the music of silver sounds.
Not only the altar and the rows of bench
es under the broad shed, but the entire dimen
sions of the grove also, were crowded to the
verge of suffocation. The word had been
circulated that the mighty orator had come
at last, and the feverish anxiety to behold him
augmented more and more.
Presently a form arose in the pulpit, and
commenced giving out a hymn preliminary to
the main exercises, and every eye became
instantly riveted on the person of the strang
er. Indeed, as someone said of Burke, “a
single flash of the gazer’s vision was enough
to reveal the extraordinary man, ’’ although in
the present case it must, for the sake of truth,
be acknowledged that the first impression
was ambiguous, if not enigmatical and disa
greeable. His figure w r as tall, burly, mas
sive, and seemed even more gigantic than the
reality from its crowning foliage of luxuriant
coal-black hair, wreathed into long, curling
ringlets. And a head that looked large as a
half-bushel, beetling brows, rough and crag
gy as fragmentary granite, irradiated at the
base by eyes of dark fire, small and twink
ling like diamonds in a sea, (they were dia
monds of the soul shining in a measureless
sea of humor) —a swarthy complexion, as if
embrowned by the kisses of sunbeams; rich,
rosy lips, always slightly parted, as if wear
ing a perpetual merry smile, and you have a
life-like portrait of Peter Cartwright, the far
famed jocose preacher.
. Though I heard it all, from the text to the
amen, 1 am forced to despair of any attempt
to convey an accurate idea of either the sub
stance or manner of the sermon which fol
lowed. There are different sorts of sermons
—the argumentative, the dogmatic, the pos
tulatory, the persuasive, the punitive, the
combative, “in orthodox blows and knocks,”
the logical and poetic ; but this specimen be
longed to none of these categories. It was !
sui generis, and of anew species. It might
be termed properly the waggish.
He began with a loud, beautifully modula
ted tone, in a voice that rolled on the serene ;
night air like successive peals of grand thun
der. Methodist ministers are celebrated for
sonorous voices, but his was matchless in !
sweetness as well as power. For the first;
minutes his remarks, being prefatory, w r ere j
common-place and uninteresting; but then !
all of a sudden his face reddened, his eye
lightened, his gestures grew animated as the
waftures of a fiery torch, and his whole coun
tenance changed to an expression of inimita- j
hie humor.; and now his wild, waggish, peeu- i
liar eloquence, poured like a mountain tor- !
rent. Glancing arrows of wit, shafts of ridi- :
cule, bon mots, puns, and side-splitting anec- I
dotes, sparkled, flashed, and flew like hail, j
till the vast auditory was convulsed with
laughter. For a while the more ascetic i
strove to resist the strong current of their
own spontaneous emotions; the sour-faced
clergy frowned and hung their heads; and
all the old maidenly saints groaned as with
unspeakable anguish at such desecration of
the evangelical desk. These, however, soon
discovered that they had undertaken an im
possible achievement in thinking to with
stand the faceliee of Cartwright. His every
sentence was like a warm finger tickling the
ribs of the hearer. His very looks incited to
mirth far more than other men’s jokes, so
that the effort to maintain one’s equilibrium
only increased the disposition to burst iu
louder explosions, as every school-boy has
verified in similar cases. At length the en
campment was in a roar; the sternest fea
tures relaxed into smiles; the coldest eyes
melted to tears of irrepressible merriment
Mo Here s best comedy or Sheridan’s funniest
farce was never halt so successful. This
continued for thirty minutes, which was his
theme. I looked on and Laughed with the
rest, but finally began to fear tho result as to
the speaker. How, I exclaimed mentally,
will he ever be able to extricate his audience
from that deep w hirlpool of humor ? If he
ends thus, when the merry mood subdues and !
calm reflection supervenes, will not the revul
ion of feeling be deadly to his fame ? Will
sot evory hearer realize that he has been tri
lled with in matters of sacred and eternal in
fl rest 1 At all events, there is no prospect
tea revival to-night, for were the orator a
ofagieian, he could not change his subject
mow and stem this torrent of headlong laugh
ner!
t But the shaft of my inference fllv>i le cf
the mark ; for then he commenced to change
—not all at once, but gradually as the wind
of a thunder cloud. His features lost their
comical tinge ot pleasantry; his voice first
earnest, and then solemn, and soon wailed
out in tones of the deepest pathos; his eye
was shorn of its mild light, and yielded
streams of tears as the fountain of the hill
yields water. The effect was indescribable ;
the rebound ot feeling beyond all revelation
in words oi portraiture by imagination. He
descaned on the horrors of hell till everv
shuddering face was turned downwards, as if
expecting to behold the solid globe riven
asunder and the fathomless fiery gulf yawn
trom beneath. Brave men moaned like sick
infants; and fair, fashionable women, cover
| ed with silken drapery, and bedight with
| gems, shrieked as if a knife was at work upon
| their heart-strings.
Again he changed the theme, and sketch
! ed the joys of a righteous death—its faith, its
hopes, its winged raptures, and what beauti
ful angels attend the liberated spirit to its
starry home—with such force, fire, and evi
dent belief, that all eyes were raised towards
heaven, as the entire congregation started to
their feet, as if to hail the vision of angels at
which the finger of the preacher seemed to be
pointed, elevated as it was on high to the
full length of his arm.
He then made a call for mourners into the
altar, and five hundred, many of them until
that night infidels, rushed forward and pros
trated themselves on their knees. The meet
ing was continued for two weeks, and more
than a thousand converts were added to the
church. From that time the success of Pe
ter Cartwright was unparalleled, and the fact
is chiefly due to his inimitable wit and master
ly eloquence that Methodism is now the pre
vailing religion in Illinois.
“In what college did he graduate ? Sure
ly it must have required a mighty alma mater
to develope such a son.”
ou are more than half right, my good
questioner. Peter Cartwright, like most
preachers of his sect, received his education
in the universal university—the same that
produced Homer, Plato, Shakespeare, Moses,
Mendelssohn, Franklin —that weaver of gar
land from the lightning’s wing—Washington,
and Patrick Henry. High upon the highest
mountain top, deep down in the lowest val
leys, far out away on the rolling billow’, there
he studied and toiled together, in the most
glorious of all schools—the free school of all
culture! “But did he graduate ?” Aye, and
nature’s own hand wrote his diploma with a
pencil of living light, and stamped it with a
seal of lire—the immortal fire of true genius.
Cartwright became an itinerant at eigh
teen, with no learning from books, save what
he derived from the pages of his Bible and a
collection of hymns. Year after year he
continued to travel the wild circuits of the
frontier, earning annually but a hundred dol
lars for labors painful as those of a salve at
the oar. But his vocation afforded him an
excellent opportunity for meditation, and ev
en reading. In his long journeys from one
appointment to another, he was alone, with
nothing around him but woods and waters,
birds, trees, mountains, sun, moon and stars.
These he might and did ponder well. Aye,
he did more; he bought him books of litera
ture and science, and poured over them as he
rode along with an ardor and patient perse- i
verance such as perhaps was never witnessed j
within the stone walls of a college. Thus |
he mastered mathematics, logic, physics, law j
and several languages, ancient and modem.
Oh! believe me—believe all human history—
there is no teacher like the student's own
hard-working intellect, urged on to action
and guided in its efforts by the omnipotence
of an unconquerable will.
“But why did not this ‘Western prodigy
achieve for himself a more extensive renown t
Why did he not climb to the loftiest stations
in the church ? If this narrative be true, he
ought before now’ to have been bishop, at the
least.”
The statement of a few facts w ill solve
the problem. Let it be remembered, then,
that the Methodist Episcopal Church is a
hierarchy, in which the dispensation of cler
ical honors rests exclusively with the Bishops
and General Conference of itinerants, where
the laity and local preachers are unrepresen
ted, and consequently have no voice. Hence,
in that sect, popularity, eloquence, and other
showy qualities, have never been found suffi
cient passports to the pre-eminent distinctions
of authority ani* office, but often to the re
verse. The Bishop’s gown must be won by
steady, austere devotion, not by brilliant ora
tory or profound and varied learning. On
this perilous rock Peter Cartwright’s lofty
vessel was shivered into the atoms of a hope
less w’reck. He made no pretensions to su
perior sanctity, nor was it manifested in his
conduct and demeanor, whether in the pulpit
or in private life. Indeed, he was distinguish
ed for one very unclerical peculiarity—com
bativeness in the superlative degree. His |
battles, though always apparently on the de- ‘
fensive, were as numerous as the celebrated i
Bowie. The only difference lay in this, that {
Bowie fought with deadly weapons, while
Cartwright used but his enormous fist, which
was as effective, however, in the speedy set
tlement of belligerent issues as any knife or
pistol ever forged out of steel. Let the read
er judge from the following anecdote :
At a camp meeting held at Alton in the
autumn of” 1833, the worshippers were an- ,
noyed by a set of desperadoes trom St. Lou- :
is, under the control of Mike Fink, a notori- ■
ous bully, the triumphal. t hero of countless
fights, in none of which he had ever yet met
an equal or even second. These coarse,
drunken ruffians carried it with a high hand,
outraged the men and insulted the women,
so as to threaten the dissolution of all pious
exercises; and such was the terror the name
of their leader, Fink, inspired, that not oner
individual could be found brave enough to
face his prowess.
At last, one day, when Cartwright ascen
ded the pulpit to hold forth, the desperadoes
on the. outskirts of the encampment raised a
yell so deafening as to drown utterly every
other sound. Cartwright's dark eyes shot
lightening. He deposited his Bible, drew off
his coat, and remarked aloud—“ Wait a few
moments, my brethren, while I go and make
the devil pray.”
He then proceeded, w ith a smile on his lips
to the focus of the tumult, and addressed the
chief bully—‘-Mr. Fink, I have come to
make you pray.”
The desperado raked back the tangled fes
toons of his blood-red hair, arched his huge
brows with a comical expression, and repli
ed—“By golly, I’d like to see you do it, old
! snorter!”
| “Very well,” said Cartwright. “Will
: these gentlemen, your courteous friends,
j agr*>e not to show foul play ?”
“In course they will. They’re rale grit r
I and won’t do nothing but the clean thing, so
they won’t,” rejoined Fink, indignantly.-
“Are you ready ?” asked Cartwright.
“Ready as a race horse with a light rider,”
answered I - ink, squaring his ponderous per
son for the combat.
But the bully spoke too soon; for scarcelv
had the words left his lips when Csrtiwiight
made a prodigious bound toward his antago
nist, and accompanied it with a quick shoot
ing punch of his herculean fist, which fell
crashing on the other’s chin, and hurled him
to the earth like lead. Then even his intox
icated comrades, filled with involuntary ad’
miration at the feat gave a cheer.
But link was up in a moment, and rushed
: upon his enemy, exclaiming—“ That warn’t
j done fair, so it warn’t.” lie aimed a furious
; stroke, which Cartw right parried w ith his left
| hand, and grasped his throat with the right,
j crushed him down as if he had been an in
■ tant. I-ink struggled, squirmed, and w rithed
jin the dust, but all to no purpose; for those
i strong, muscular fingers held his windpipe as
jin the jaws of an iron vice. When he be
| gan to turn purple in the face and censed to
| resist, Cartwright slackened his hold, and in-
I quired, “Will you pray now ?”
“I doesn’t know a word how,” gasped
Fink.
“Repeat after me,” commanded Cart
wright.
“W ell, if I must, I must,” answered Fink,
“because you’re the devil.”
The preacher then said over the Lord’s
j prayer line by line, and tho conquered bally
responded in the same way, when the victor
permitted him to rise. At this consumma
tion the rowdies thundered three boisterous
cheers. Fink shook Cartwright’s hand
warmly, declaring—“By golly, you’re some
beans in a bar-fight. I’d rather set to with
an old he in the dog-days. You can pass in
this ere crowd of nose-smashers, blast your
ugly pictur!” Afterwards, Fink’s party be
haved with exemplary decorum, and Cart
wright resumed his Bible and pulpit.
A thousand other incidents, equally mar
tial and ludicrous, are related as to Cart
wright’s adventures, both in Kentucky and Il
linois. Many of them are probably fiction*,-
but those genuine alone, if collected, would
be sufficient to stock at least two volumes of
romantic reality.
Such was the jocose preacher, and his bi
ography teaches ns the mighty influence of
circumstances in moulding the characters,
and fixing the destinies of men. Had that
splendid genius been cast on the tide of war,
or thrown into the fiery vortex of a revolu
tionary era, his name might have been a sig
nal of doom to quaking nations; his renown
might have blazed like a comet, through all
time. But he was born in the wildest moun
tains of Kentucky ; he was taught the spirit
ual tenets of Wesley, and educated to regard
the calling of a Methodist circuit’ rider as the
loftiest on earth.
Short Story.
When Mary and I w ere married, we were
young and foolish, for we had nothing to be
married with; but Mary was delicate, and I
thought I could take care of her best. I knew
I had a strong arm and a brave heart to de
pend upon. We rented a chamber and went
to housekeeping. We got together a little
furniture —a table, bedstead, dishes—but our
money failed us before we bought our chairs.
I told Mary she must turn up the tub; for I
could not run in debt: No, no. It was not.
long before our rich neighbor Mrs. M. found
us out, and kindly enough she supplied us;
half a dozen chairs added to our stock. They
i were old ones, to be sure, but answered just
as well for us. I shall never forget the new
! face those chairs put upon our snug quarters;
they never looked just right before.—
The tables are turned with Mrs M. and me
now; she has turned a poor widow, but she
shall never want while I have any tiling—nev
er! cried the old man, with a beaming face,
I don’t forget those chairs.
Ah, now the secret was out. It was the
interest of the old chairs which maintained
the poor widow. She was living on the in
terest and compound interest of a little friend
ly act, done years before, and sufficed for
herself and daughter.
How beautiful it is to know’ God blesses
the operation of his great moral law, “Love
thy neighborand we should oftener see it
could we look into the hidden paths of life,
and find it is not self interest, nor riches, nor
fame, that binds heart to heart. The simple
power of a friendly act can do more than
they. It is these—the frienly acts, the neigh
borly kindnesses, the Christian sympathy of
one towards another, which rob wealth of
its power to curse, extracts the bitter from
sorrw, and open wells of gladness in deso
late homes. We do not always see the gol
den links shining in the chain of human
events; but they are there, and happy is he
who feels their gentle but irresistible influ
ence. — Merchants’ Ledger.
The glory of a good man is the testimony
of a good conscience; have that, and thou
wilt have inward peace amidst-troubles.
When woman loses her name she can’t
get it back again. Such is precisely the case
; with a dog made into sausages —he’s gone
| forever.
How to Correct an Error. —“ What lit
tle, uglylooking, red-haired monster is that
playing among those children ?”
“That, madam, that is my eldest son.”
“Indeed, you don’t say so—what a beauti
ful little cherub it is!”
Custards without Eggs. —One quart of
new milk, four tablespoonfuls of flour, two
of sugar. Season with nutmeg or cinnamon,
and add 3alt to your liking. The milk should
be placed over a quick fire, and when at the
boiling point, the flour should be added, be
ing previously stirred up in cold milk. As
soon as thoroughly scalded, add the sugar,
spice, and salt. This is an excellent dish,
and deservedly prized by every one who has
tried it.
NO. 18.