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County Surveyor.
THE undersigned informs his friend? and the Planters
of Muscogee county, that ho is prepared to make
official surveys in Muscogee county. Letters addressed
to Post Office,Columbus, will meet with prompt atten
tion WM. F. SERB ELL,
County Surveyor.
Office, No. 4 Telegraph Building, Broad Kt.
Columbus, Jan. 31, ISM. 5 ly
W. & W. F. WILLIAMS,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.
Vril.XT WILLIAMS. WM. F. WILLIAMS.
Oct. IT, ISoOv 21 ts.
JAMES FORT,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
HOI.LY SPRINGS, MISS.
July 4, 1850. ST Cm
Williams & Howard,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW*
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA*
ROUT. r.. HOWARD. CHAS. J. WILLIAMS.
April 4, 1850. 14 ts
J. I). I.fiNNARD*
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
TAI.ROTTOX, <!A.
WILL attend to business in Talbot and the adjacent!
counties. All business entrusted to hie care will meet
with prompt attention.
April 4,1850'. H ly
KING & WINNEMORE,
Commission Merchants,
MOBILE, ALABAMA.
Dec. 20, 1549. [Afoi. Trib.] 15 ts
GODFREY 5c SOLOMONS,
Factors ami Commission Merchants,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
JAMES X. GODFREY, *• w - SOLOMONS.
RirnncEs.
REV. JAS. K. EVANS, REV. SAMUEL ANTHONY,
Savannah. I ulbotton.
JUDGVAT *■ GUNBt, k. OCSLEY A BON,
Columbus. Macon.
July 2$ 30 6:n -
THIS HATE It
IS MANUFACTURE) UY THE
Rock Island Factory,
NEAR THIS CITY.
Columbus, Feb. 23,1850. 9 ts
* NORTH CAROLINA
Mutual Life Insurance Company.
LOCATED AT It \ LEIGH. N. C.
THE Charter of this company gives important advan
tage<= to the assured, over most other companies.
The husband can insure his own life tor the sole use and
benefit of his wile and children, free from any other
claims Persons who insure for file participate in the
profits which are declared annually, and when the pre
mium exceeds i*3o. may pay one-lialf in a note.
Slaves are hmured at two-thirds their value tor ono or
five years.
Applications for Risks may bo made to
JOHN MINN.
Afjbnt. Columbus, Ga.
ZfxT Offiec -tocnwood & Co.’s Warehouse.
Nor. 15, 1340,
WANTED.
-j a a AAA It* s - RAGS. Cash paid for clean eot
lUUA'Uv* ton or linen rags—4 cents per pound,
when delivered in quantities of 100 pounds or more ; and
31 cents when delivered in small quantities. For old
hemp, bagging, and pieces of rope, 11 cents, delivered
either at Rock Island Factory or at their store in Co
lumbia, in ihe South comer Room of Oglethorpe House.
IT. ADAMS, Secretary.
Columbus. Feb. 23,1850. 0 ts
/ \ Globe Hotel,
JmEL BUENA VISTA, MARION CO., GA.
BY J. WILLIAMS.
March 14,1850. H ts
Marble Works,
East side Broad St. near the Market House,
COLUMBUS. GA.
HAVE constantly on hand all kinds of Grave S/ones
Monument*, Tomb* and Tablets, of American
Italian and Irish Marble. Engraving and carving
done on stone in the best possible manner; and all kinds
of Granite Work at the shortest notice.
JOHN H. MADDEN.
P. S.—Plainer of Fans and C-emejit, always on hand
‘ <£?umbe, Maich 7, 1® ts
VOL. I.
[From the Dollar Newspaper.]
GAY HEARTS.
Chide not a heart that’s light,
Chide not a heart that’s gay,
For the spring of life so bright,
Too soon will pass away.
Chil not spirits bounding
O’er this fair smiling earth,
Chide bo laugh resounding—
No ! echo back it* mirth !
Hearts that are light to-day,
To-morrow may he sad ;
Then never chide the gay.
But bid them to be glad—
For soon may sorrows come,
And on that smiling face,
Now so fair and gladsome,
Deep care its lines may trace !
Then let the jovhus heart
Be happy while it may,
No sad’ning tone impart,
To cloud its sunny way—
But as you pass them by.
Breathe to Heaven a prayer,
That spirit* now so high,
May never bow with care!
’ v. P. t).
‘[From Arthur’s Home Cazette.]
SMITH AND JONES;
OR, THE TOWN LOT.
BY T. B. ARTHUR.
Once upon a time, it happened that the men
who governed in the municipal affairs of a
certain growing town in the West, resolved,
in grave deliberation assembled, to purchase
a five acre lot at the north end of the citv—
recently incorporated—and h.tve it improved
for a park or public square. Now, it also
happened, that all the saleable ground Iving
north of the city, was owned by a man
named Smith—a shrewd, wide-awake indi
vidual, whose motto was “ Every man for
himself,” with, an occasional addition about a
certain gentleman in Black taking “ the hind
most.”
Smith, it may he mentioned, was secretly
at the bottom of this scheme for a public
square, and had himself suggested the matter
to an influential member of the Council; not
that he was moved by what is denominated
a public spirit—no; the spring of action in
the case was merely “ private spirit,” or a
regard for his own good. If the Council
decided upon a public square, he was the
man from whom the ground would have to
he bought; and he was the man who could
get his own price therefor.
As we have said, the park was decided
upon, and a committee of two appointed
whose business it was to see Smith, and ar
range with him for the purchase of a suitable
lot of ground. In due form the committee
called upon the landholder, who was fully
prepared for the interview.
“ You are the owner of those lots at the
north end ?” said the spokesman of the com
mittee.
“I am,” replied Smith, with becoming
gravity.
“ Will you sell a portion of ground, say
fire acres, to the city V’
“ For what purpose ?” Smith knew very
well for what purpose the land was wanted.
“Wo have decided to set apart about five
acres of ground, and improve it as a kind of
park or public promenade.”
“Have you, indeed! Well, I like that,”
said Smith, with animation. “It shows the
right kind of public spirit.”
“ We have, moreover, decided that the
best location will be at the north end of the
town.”
“ Decidedly my own opinion,” returned
Smith.
“ Will you sell us the required acres?”
asked ono of the Councilmen.
“ That will depend somewhat upon where
you wish to locate the park.”
The particular location was named.
“The very spot,”replied Smith,promptly,
“ upon which l have decided to erect four
rows of dwellings.”
“ But it is too far out for that,” was nat
urally objected.
“O,no ! Not a rod. The city i3 rapidly
growing in that direction. I have only to put
up the dwellings referred to, and dozens wifi
be anxious to purchase lots, and build all
around them. Won’t the ground to the left
of that you speak of answer as well ?’’
But the committee replied in the negative.
The lot they had mentioned was the one de
cided upon as most suited for the purpose,
and they Were not prepared to think of any
other location.
All this Smith understood very well. He
was not only willing, but anxious for the
city to purchase the lot they Were negotiating
for. All he wanted was to get a good round
price for the same—say four or five times the
real value. So he feigned indifference, and
threw difficulties in the way.
A few years previous to this time, Smith
had purchased a considerable tract of land
at the north of the then flourishing village, at
fifty dollars an acre. Its present value wgs
about three hundred dollars an acre.
After a good deal of talk on both sides,
Smith finally agreed to sell the particular lot
pitched upon. The next thing was to ar
range as to price.
“ At what do vou hold this ground rer
acre ?”
It was some time before Smith answered
this question. His eves were cast upon the
floor, and earnestly did he enter into debate
with himself as to the value he should place
upon the lot. At first he thought of five
hundred dollars per acre. But, his cupidity
soon caused him to advance on that sum,
although, a month before, he would have
caught at such an offer. Then he advanced
to six, to seven, and to eight hundred. And
still he felt undecided.
“ I can get my own price,” said he to
himself. “ The city has to pay, and I might
just as well get a large sum as a small one.”
“ For what price will you sell ?” The
question was repeated.
“ I must have a good price.”
“We are willing to pay what is fair and
right”
“Os course. No doubt you have fixed a
limit to which you will go.”
“ Not exactly that,” said one of the gentle
men.
“ Are vou prepared to make an offer ?”
“ W e are prepared to hear your price, and
to make a report thereon,” was replied.
“ That’s a very valuable lot of ground,”
said Smith. *
j “ Name your price,” returned one of the
committee men, a little impatiently.
Thus brought up to the point, Smith, after
thinking hurriedly fora few moments,said —
- “ One thousand dollars an acre.”
Both the men shook their heads in a very
positive way. Smith said that it was the
lowest he would take ; and so the confer
ence ended.
At the uext meeting of tho City Council,
a report on the town lot was made, and the
extraordinary demand of Smith canvassed.
It was unanimously decided not to make the
proposed purchase.
When this decision reached the land-hold
er, he was considerably disappointed. He
wanted money hatllv, and would have
“ jumped at” two thousand dollars for the
five-acre lot, if satisfied that it would bring
no more. But, when the city same forward
as a purchaser, his cupidity was subjected to
a very strong temptation. lie believed that
he could get five thousand dollars as easily
as two ; and quieted his conscience by the
salvo—“ An article is always worth what it
will bring.”
A week or two went by, and Smith was
about c alling upon one of the members of the
Council, to say, that, if the city really want
ed tho lot, lie would sell at their price, leaving
it with the Council to act justly and gener
ously, when a friend said to him—
“ I hear that the Council had the subject of
a public square under consideration again
this morning.”
“Indeed?” Smith was visibly excited,
though he tried to appear calm.
“ Yes; and I also hear that they have de
cided to pay the extravagant price you asked
for a lot of ground at the north end of the
city.”
“ A thousand dollars an acre ?”
“ Yes.”
“Its real value, and not a cent more,”
said Smith.
“ People differ about that. However, you
are lucky,” the friend replied. “The city is
able to pay.”
“So i think. Audi mean they shall pay.”
Before the committee to whom the matter
was given in charge had time to call upon
Smith, and close with him for the lot, that
gentleman had concluded in his own mind
that it would be just as easy to get twelve
hundred dollars an acre as a thousand. It
was plain that the Council were bent upon
having the ground, and would pay a round
sum for it. It was Just tiio spot for a public
square; and the city must become the owner.
So, when he was called upon by tho gentle
men, and they said to him—
“W e are authorized to pay you your
price,” he promptly answered—
“ The offer is no longer open. You de
clined it when it was made. My price for
that property is now twelve hundred dollars
an acre.”
The men offered remonstrance; but it
was of no avail. Smith believed that he
could get six thousand dollars for the ground
as easily as five thousand. The city must
have the lot and would pay almost any price.
“ I hardly think it right, Mr. Smith,” said
one of his visitors, “ for you to take such an
advantage. This square is for the public
good.”
“ Let the public pay then,” was the unhes
itating answer. “ The public is able enough.”
“ The location of this park at tho north
end of the city will greatly improve the value
of your other property.”
This Smith understood very well. But he
replied—
“ I’m not so sure of that. I have some
very strong doubts on the subject. It’s my
opinion, that the buildings I contemplated
erecting will be tar more to my advantage.
Be that as it may, however, I am decided in
selling for nothing less than six thousand dol
lars.”
“ We are only authorized to pay five thou
sand,” replied the committee. “If you agree ;
to take that sum, we will close the bargain I
on the spot.”
1 ive thousand dollars was a large sum of
money, and Smith felt strongly tempted to
close in with the liberal offer. But, six
thousand loomed up before his imagination,
still more temptingly.
“ I can get it,” said he to himself; “ and
the property is worth what it will bring.”
So he positively declined to sell it at a
thousand dollars per acre.
“ At twelve hundred you will sell?” re
marked one of the committee, as they were
about retiring.
“Fes. I will take twelve hundred the |
acre. That is the lowest rate, and lam not j
anxious even at that price. 1 can do quite as ;
well bv keeping it in my own possession. :
But, as you seem so bent on having it, I will |
r.ot stand in your way. When will the
Council meet again ?”
“ Not until next week.” .
“Very well. If they then accept mv
offer, all will be right. But, understand me;
if they do not accept, the offer no longer re
mains open. It is a matter of no moment to
me which way the thing goes.”
It was a matter of moment to Smith, for
all this assertion —a matter of very great
moment. He lmd several thousand dollars to
pay in the course of the next few months on
land purchases, and no way to meet the pay
ments, except by mortgages, or sales of pro
perty; and, it may naturally be concluded,
that he suffered considerable uneasiness
during the time which passed until the next
meeting of the Council.
Os course the grasping disposition shown
by Smith, became the town talk ; and people
said a good many hard things of him. Little,
however, did he care, so that he secured six
thousand dollars for a lot not worth m#re
than two thousand.
Among other residents and property hold
ers in the town, was a simple-minded, true
hearted, honest man, named Jones. His
father had left him a large farm, a goodly
portion of which, in process of time, came to
be included in the limits of the new city, and
he found a much more profitable employ
ment in selling building lots than in tilling
the soil. The property of Mr. Jones lay at
the West side of the town.
Now, when Mr. Jones heard of the ex
orbitant demand made by Smith for a five
acre lot, his honest heart throbbed with a
feeling of indignation.
“ I couldn’t have believed it of him,” said
he. “ Six thousand dollars! Preposterous !
Why, I would gire the city a lot of twice the
size, and do it with pleasure.”
“1 ou would ?” said a member of the
Council, who happened to hear thifi remark.
“ Certainly I would.”
“ You are really in earnest?”
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 19, 1850.
“ Undoubtedly. Go and select a public
square from any of my unappropriated land
on the West side of the city, and I will pass
you the title, as a free gift, to-morrow, and
feel pleasure in doing so.”
“ That is public spirit,” said the Council
man.
“ Call it what you will. lam pleased in
making the offer.”
Now, let it not ho supposed that 3lr.
Jones was shrewdly calculating the advan
tage which would result to him from having a
park at the West side of tho city. No such
thought had yet entered his mind. He spoke
from the impulse of a generous feeling.
Time passed on, and the session day of
the Council came round—a day to which
Smith had looked forward with no ordinary
feelings of interest, that were touched at
times by the coldness of doubt, and the agi
tation of uncertainty. Several times he had
more than half repented of his refusal
to accept the liberal offer of five thousand
dollars, and of having fixed so positively
upon six thousand as the “lowest figure.”
The morning of the dav passed, and Smith
began to grow uneasy. He did not venture
to seek for information as to the doings of
the Council, for that would he to expose the
anxiety he felt in the result of their delibera
tions. Slowly the afternoon wore away, and
it so happened that Smith did not meet any
ono of the Councilmen; nor did ho even
know whether tho Council was still in ses
sion or not. As to making allusion to the
subject of his anxious interest to any one,
that was carefully avoided; for ho knew that
his exorbitant demand was the town talk—
and he wished to affect the most perfect in
difference on the subject.
The day closed, and not a whisper about
the town lot had como to the ears of Mr.
Smith. What could it mean ? Had his offer
to sell at six thousand been rejected? The
very thought caused his heart to grow heavy
in his bosom. Six, seven, eight o’clock
came, and still it was all dark with Mr.
Smith. He could hear the suspense no lon
ger, and so determined to call upon his
neighbor Wilson, who was a meinbor of the
Council, and learn from him what had been
done.
So ho called on Mr. Wilson.
“ Ah, friend Smith,” said the latter; “ how
are you this evening?”
“ Well, I thank you,” returned Smith,
feeling a certain oppression of the chest.—
“ How are you?”
“ Oh, very well.”
Here then was a pause. After which,
Smith said—
“ About that ground of mine ? What did
you do ?”
“ Nothing,” replied Wilson coldly.
“Nothing, did you sav?” Smith’s voice
was a little husky.
“ No. You declined our offer; —or, rath
er, the high price fixed by yourself upon the
land.”
“ You refused to buy it at five thousand,
when it was offered,” said Smith.
“ I know we did, because your demand
was exorbitant.”
“ O no, not at all,” returned Smith quickly'.
“In that we only differ,” said Wilson.
“However, the Council has decided not to
pay you the price you ask.”
“ Unanimously ?”
“ There was not a dissenting voice.”
Smith began to feel moro and more un
comfortable.
“ I might take something less,” he ventur
ed to say, in a low, hesitating voice.
“It is too late now,” was Mr. Wilson’s
prompt reply.
“ Too late ! llovv so ?”
“ We have procured a lot.”
“ Mr. Mil son!” Poor Smith started to
his foot in chagrin and astonishment.
“Yes; we have taken one of Jones’lots
on the West side of the city. A beautiful
ten acre lot.”
“1 ou have !” Smith was actually pale.
“We h avo, and the title deeds are now
being made out.”
It was some time before Smith had suffi
ciently’ recovered from the stunning effect of
this unlooked for intelligence, to make the
enquiry—
“ And pray, how much did Jones ask for
his ten-acre lot
“ He presented it to the city as a gift,” re
plied tho Councilman.
“ 3 gift! What folly!”
“No, not folly—but true worldly wisdom ;
though I believe Jones did not think of advan
tage to himself when lie generously made the
offer. He is worth twenty thousand dollars
more to-dav than he was yesterday, in the
simple advanced value of his land for build
ing lots. And I know of no man in this
town whose good fortune affects me with
more pleasure.”
Smith stole hack to his home with a moun
tain of disappointment on his heart. In his
cupidity lie had entirely overreached himself,
and he saw that the consequences were to
react upon all his future prosperity. The
public square at the west end of the town
would draw improvements in that direction,
all the while increasing the wealth of Mr.
.Tones, while lots at the north end would re
main at present prices, or, it might he, take a
do w .
A i In ten years, Jones was
the in the town, while half of
had been sold for taxe3.
The lot passed from his hands, un
der the hammer, in the foreclosure of a mort
gage, for one thousand dollars!
‘lints it is that inordinate selfishness and
cupidity overreach themselves; while the
liberal man deviseth liberal things, and is sus
tained thereby.
The Discipline ol Sorrow.
BY HENRY GILES.
Sorrow is the noblest of all discipline. Our
nature shrinks from it, but it is not the less
for the greatness of our nature. It is a
scourge, but there is healing in its stripes. It
is a chalice, and the draught is bitter, but
strength proceeds from the bitterness. It is
a crown of thorns, but it becomes a wreath
of light on the brow which it has lacerated.
It is a cross on which the spirit groans, but
every’ Calvary has an Olivet. To every place
of crucifixion there is likewise a place of as
cension. The sun that was shrouded is un
veiled, and heaven opens with hopes eternal
to the soul, which was nigh unto despair.—
Even in guilt, sorrow has sanctity within it.
Place a bad man beside the death bed, or the
grave, where all that he loved is cold, we are
moved, we are won bv his affliction, and we
find the divine spark yet alive, which no vice
could quench. We cannot withhold our in
terest, and we are compelled to give him our
respect.
Christianity itself is a religion of sorrow. It
was born in sorrow, it was incarnate in sor
row, in sorrow it was tried, and by sorrow it
was made perfect. The author of Christian
ity was a man of sorrows,and acquainted with
grief. Alone did he tread the wine press of
agony, until the last drop of torture was
crushed out. Alone did he walk on the
waves of affliction in the dark and stormy
midnight of solitude and woe. With sensi
bilities so quick and gentle, and so loving;
with a perfect soul, to which wrong or wick
edness must have caused unspeakable pain,
yet to which the depths of wrong and wick
edness were exposed ; with sympathies alive
to the smallest suffering,and yet which clasp
ed in their wide embrace all humanity in its
wants and its capacities ; heavy indeed was
the burden which his spirit had to bear. Not
on one occasion only, but often wo conceive
him bathed all over with the cold sweat of a
terrible anguish ; often we may hear him ex
claim—“My soul is sorrowful, exceeding sor
rowful, sorrowful even unto death.”
But this sadness is exalting. It is the bap
tism by which every man who lives profound
ly, is introduced into his greater life. Since
Christ wept over Jerusalem, the host, the bra
vest who have followed him, in good will and
good deeds, have commenced their mission,
like him, in suffering, and not a few of them,
like him, have closed it in blood. Sorrow is
not to be complained of—it is to be accept
ed. It has godliness in its power, it has joy
within its gloom, and though Christianity is a
religion of sorrow, it is not less a religion
of hope ; it casts down in order to exalt, and
if it tries the spirit of affliction, it istoprepare
it for beatitude.
The Old Churchyard Tree.
A TROSE POEM.
There is an old yew tree which stands by
the wall in a dark quiet corner of the church
yard.
And a child was at play beneath its wide
spreading branches, one tine day in the early
spring. He had his lap full of flowers, which
the fields and lanes had supplied him with,
and he was humming a tune to himself as lie
wove them into garlands.
And a little girl at play among the tomb
stones crept near to listen ; but the boy was
so intent upon his garland, that he did not
hear the gentle footsteps, as they trod softly
over the fresh green grass. When his work
was finished, ami all the flowers that were in
his lap were woven together in ono long
wreath, he started up to measure its length
upon the ground, and then he saw the little
gill as she stood with her eyes fixed upon
him. He did not move nor speak, but thought
to himself that she looked very beautiful as
she stood there with her flaxen ringlets hang
ing down upon her neck. ‘Flic little girl
was so startled by his sudden movement,
that site let fall all the flowers she had col
lected in her apron, and ran away as fast as
she could. But the hoy was older and taller
than she, and soon caught her and coaxed
her to come back and play with him, and
help him to make more garlands; and from
that time they saw each other nearly every
day, and became great friends.
Twenty years passed away. Again, he
was seated beneath the old yew tree in the
churchyard.
It was summer now; bright, beautiful
summer, with the birds singing, and the
flowers covering the ground, and scenting
the air with their perfume.
But he was not alone now, nor did the
little girl steal near on tiptoe, fearful of being
heard. She was seated by bis side, and his
arm was round her, and she looked up into
his face, and smiled as she whispered : “The
first evening of our lives we were ever to
gether was passed here; we will spend the
first evening of our wedded life in tho same
quiet, happy place.”
And he drew her closor to him as she
spoke.
The summer is gone ; and the autumn ;
and twenty moro summers and autumns
have passed away since that evening, in the
old churchyard.
A young man on a bright moonlight night,
comes reeling through the little white gate,
and stumbling over the graves. He shouts
and he sings, and is presently followed by
others like unto himself, or worse; So, they
all laugh at the dark solemn head of the
yew tree, and throw stones up at the place
where the nloon had silvered the boughs.
Those same boughs are again silvered by
the moon, and they droop over his mother’s
grave. There is n little stone which bears
this inscription;
“her HEART BRAKE IX SILENCE.”
But the silence of the churchyard is now
broken by a voice—not of the youth—nor a
voice of laughter and ribaldry.
“ My son ! —dost thou see this grave ? and
dost thou read the record in anguish, whereof
may come repentance ?”
“Os what should I repent?” answers the
son ; “and why should my young ambition
for fame relax in its strength because my
mother was old and weak ?”
“Is this indeed our son ?” says the father,
bending in agony over tho grave of his be
loved.
“ I can well believe I am not,” exclaimeth
the youth. “It is well that you have
brought me here to say so. Our natures are
unlike ; our courses must be opposite. Your
way licth here —mine yonder.”
So the son left the father kneeling by the
grave.
Again a few years are passed. It is win
ter, with a roaring wind and a thick gray
fog. The graves in the churchyard are cov
ered with snow, and there are great icicles
in the churchyard. The wind now carries a
swath of snow along the tops of the graves
as though the “ sheeted dead” were at some
melancholy play; and hark ! the icicles fall
with a crash and jingle, like a solemn mocke
ry of the echo of the unseemly mirth of one
who is now coming to his final rest.
There are two graves near the old yew
tree; and the grass has overgrown them. A
third is close by; and the dark earth at each
side has just been thrown up. The bearers
come; with a heavy pace they move along ;
the coffin heaveth up and down, as they step
over the intervening graves.
Grief and old age have seized upon the
father, and worn out his life; and premature
ikcay soon seized upon the son, and gnawed
away his sain ambition, and his useless
! strength, till lie prayed to be borne, not the
j way yonder that was most opposite to his
! father and his mother, but even the same
| way they had gone—the way which leads
to the Old Churchyard Tree.
Message of South Carolina.
The following is the concluding part of the
message of the Governor of South Carolina
to the legislature of that State:
For about one-third of her political exist
ence, South Carolina has presented an al
most uninterrupted scene of disquietude and
excitement, under the provocation of con
tumely and threats, poured from a thousand
tongues, and in forms the most offensive.
During that period, it may with truth be af
firmed, that the public miiuUhas not for a
year been free from the most painful solici
tude. Peace indeed has long fled from
our borders, and discontent and alarm are
everywhere present. Better, far better, it
would have been, for the south to engage in
deadly conflict with the north, than to have
endured the torturing anxiety of an anoma
lous struggle, the consequences of which are
beyond the ken of human prescience. An
open war is limited by the causes which pro
duce it, but the further continuance of such a
war—political, religious and social —as has
been waged by one party against the other,
and in which a strictly defensive attitude has
unwaveringly been preserved by the weaker,
would falsify and dishonor the history of the
Anglo Saxon race. Whatever may be said
bv the demagogue and the fanatic, it is our
pride and high privilege to declare, that (lie
unexampled forbearance of the south is refer
able solely to its unafleeted devotion to the
compact of 1789, and the principles of con
stitutional liberty.
Our present distressed and agitated condi
tion has not arisen solely from the recent ag
gressive measures of the Federal Government.
These, effected by illicit and wily combina
tions, having destroyed forever the balance of
power between the two sections, the equality
of the states, and the equality of right in the
people of the states, constitute the crowning
evidence of the fixed determination of a dom
inant majority to consummate its perfidious
purpose of seizing, by a law of its own enact
ment, the entire inheritance of a common an
cestry. The startling truth at length stands
openly revealed, that the last hope of arrest
ing the career of infatuated rulers is gone for
ever. The final act of the drama is over,
and when the curtain which screens the future
from the eye of the patriot shall ho lifted, it
may be, that the Palmetto banner will bo
soon, among other standards, waving over a
triumphant people, united in institutions, and
in determination to maintain with fidelity
their new relations with their co-sovereigns,
and the nations of the world. But should it
please the All-wise Disposer of events in
His inscrutable Providence to assign us the
condition of the British Islands of the west,
and to rivet the chains with which we are
manacled, the people of South Carolina will,
at least, be comforted with the assurance, that
while ignorant of their destiny, they were not
unmindful of the duty they owed to them
selves, their descendants and their country.
Does hope still linger in your bosoms that
the dark cloud which envelopes the political
horizon will yet he dispelled? That the ene
my will forego his premeditated design of re
ducing your honored Commonwealth to col
onial vassalage ? To these questions a satis
factory answer will ho found in the melan
choly experience of the past —the overshad
owing influence of the General Government,
insured by the permanent ascendency of the
sectional party which aims at the annihilation
of our property, the history of fanaticism, the
renewed and augmented agitation of the sla
very question, and the recent practical veri
fication of our fears that, at the north, the
provisions of the constitution in behalf of
southern rights cannot bo enforced without
the shedding of blood. If, to that section,
which now has the control of every depart
ment of the government, the preservation of
the confederacy is indispensable to the com
pletion of its work of desecration and ruin,
to us its dissolution, as a compact between
thirty-one states, is necessary to our social
and political quiet, and the safety of our in
stitutions. Ordained “to establish justice,
insure domestic tranquility, provide for the
common defence, promote the general wel
fare, and insure tho blessings of liberty to
ourselves and our posterity”—in relation to
each and all of these essential objects, the
Bond of Union having been dtVberately mu
tilated by a majority of the contracting par
ties, the minority have no longer any security
for life, liberty and property.
The time, then, has arrived to resume the
exorcise of the powers of self-protection,
which, in the hour of unsuspecting confidence,
we surrendered to foreign hands. We must
re-organize our political system on sonic
surer and safer basis. There is no power,
moral or physical, that can prevent it. The
event is indissolubly linked with its cause,
and fixed as destiny. In the admonitory
language of our lamented statesman, “ the
worst calamity that could befall us would be
to lose our independence, and to sink down
into a state of acknowledged inferiority, de
pending for security on forbearance, and not
on our capacity and disposition to defend
ourselves.”
I have not attempted to discuss the ques
tion of secession. The right by a state to
withdraw from the Constitutional Compact,
to which the states are sovereign parties.
While adhering faithfully to the remedy of
joint state action for redress of common
grievances, I beseech you to remember, that
no conjuncture of events ought to induce us
to abandon the right of deciding ultimately
on our own destiny.
In recommending, as I now do, that South
Carolina should interpose her sovereignty in
order to protect her citizens, and that by co
operation with her aggrieved sister states, she
may be enabled to aid in averting the doom
which impends over the civil institutions of
the south, it is fit and proper that as a com
monwealth, we should, at an early day, to
be designated by you, implore the God of
onr fathers for the pardon of our manifold
transgressions, and invoke his protection and
guidance in this our day of trouble and af
fliction, that he would graeionslv vouchsafe
to enlighten the minds of our Federal rulers,
the north and its citizens, and direct them in
the way of truth, of reason and of justice,
and preserve a once happy political family
from the unspeakable horrors of ciu! striie.
Meeting of State Legislature^
The Legislatures of the following States
Isold their sessions during the present season.
The time of meeting and the state of parties
in the Legislatures are also given.
STATES. TIME OF MEETING. SENATE. ttOUS*-
3 S 3 £
isa’ ■ f“; -!•- - 3 £
North Carolina,. .Nov. 18, 1850. 23 57 —4753
South Carolina,..Nov. 25, “ Dem. majority.
Florida Nov. 4, “ 9 10
Mississippi, now in extra session, Detn. majority.
Arkansas, Nov. 4, 1850. 4 21
Keniuekv, Dee. 2, *• 25 43 —5345
0hi0,...’ Dec. 2, “ 17 16 331 32 6
Indiana Dec. 2, “ Dem. majority,
Virginia Dec. 2, “ Deni, majority.
10wa,..
Missouri* ..Dec. 30, “ Dem. majority.
Massachusetts,t. Jan. 1,1851.
New York,:. Jan. 7, “ 17 15 —8246
New Jersey,:... Jan. 11, “ 10 10
Pennsylvania,... Jan. 7, “ 17 16 —4153
Delaware,. Jan. 7, “ 4 5
Michigan, .Tati. 6, “ 515 3 *23 33
Wisconsin Jan. 6, “ 314 211 IS 7
California fan. 6, “ Not yet known.
Rhode Island Jan , adjourned session. Whig maj.
*ln the Legislature of Missouri there is a democratic
majority—but the whigs and anti-Benton democrats out
number the triends of Benton.
+The Legislature of Massachusetts consists of forty
Senators, and three hundred and fifty-six Representatives,
wnen 1 ill. The democrat j and frecsoilers have elect and
a majority of mem’ c *, over the whigs, in both branches.
Ot the above Legislatures, the following
are to elect Unite 1 States Senators, viz.:
Florida in place of David L. Yulee.dem.
Ohio “ Tlios. Ewing, whig.
Indiana “ J&eg Dr Bright, dem.
Virginia “ James M. Mason,dem.
Massachusetts . “ Robert C. Winthrop, whig.
New York.... “ Daniel S. Dickinson,dem.’
New Jersey.... “ William L. Day ton, whig.
Pennsylvania... “ Daniel Sturgeon, dem.
Delaware “ John Wales, whig.
Michigan “ Lewis Cass, dm.
Missouri “ Thomas H. Benton, dertr.
Wisconsin “ Henry Dodge,dem.
California “ J6lm C. Fremont, dem.
Rhode Island.. “ Albert C. Greene, whig.
It is probable that the whigs will lose three
Senators, viz.: in Massachusetts, New Jersey
and Delaware, and gain one in New York.
The Legislatures of Florida and California
are. doubtful, several seats being contested in
tho former State, and the returns from the
latter not being complete at our latest advi
ces.
[From theN. Y. Herald.]
The Prospects of the Cotton* Trade.
Wo refer our readers to a circular which
was transmitted by a mercantile house in this
city to their correspondents abroad by the
Cambria. It will bear preserving, and as the
facts commented upon cannot, perhaps, bo
controverted, our readers can form their own
conclusions about tho result. An exact state
ment of tho deliveries of cotton from Liver
pool for consumption, for the fjf.ecn weeks
preceding the departure of the Uuropn,
makes the figure of 353,790 bales, or, only
23,586 bales per week of all kinds. As it is
perfectly well known that the average con
sumption has been over 30,000 bales per
week, and that only a light stock existed at
that date in the District, it becomes interest
ing to find out where they surreptitiously ob
tained tine difference. If, as we surmise,
most of it has been abstracted from Liver
pool, wlioro only the name Stock existed
for six months, we must look for a sudden
wild speculation to break out there, when
they nro quite satisfied that the mass of them
have been cgregiously humbugged, not by the
Yankees in this city, but by a noted Virgini
an, who is believed to be, in reality, the short
est crop estimator now extant’ The Ameri
cans hold the helm, as 3,000,000 of bales of
American Cotton will be absorbed by the vast
number of spindles now running, and barely
leave decent stocks at the ports at the closo
of the year.
THE COTTON TRADE.
New York, Nov. 25, 1850.
“The majority of advices from the South
continue to report the crop as deficient, and
tho estimates vary from 2,000,000 and under
to 2,150,000; the question whether we are to
have a short or on average crop this year, is
most important, and yet is one upon which
opinions vary so much, that anything bearing
upon the subject and tending to a safe and
correct conclusion, must prove interesting,
especially at this period of the season. With
this view, we give you below a statement of
the average date of bloom of cotton plant—
date of first frost—number of days intervening
—extent of crop, and average daily produc
tion since 1836:
Extent Daily
Date of Date of Crop. Pro'lnce.
I'm. Bloom. Front. Dave. Bale*. Bale*.
1336 June Ith Oct. Hth 132 1,332,000 10.000
1337 May 7th “ 27th 173 1.800,000 10,400
1838 June Hth “ 7th 115 1.360.000 11,825
1839 May24th Nov. 7th 167 2,107.000 12.C16
1340 Juno 7th Oct. 17th 132 1/544,000 12,456
1841 “ 10th “ 15th 127 1.683,000 13.250
1842 May 17th Nov. l.t 163 2,379,000 14.169
1843 June 12th Oet. 15th 125 2.030.400 16,240
1814 Mav 314 “ 30th 152 2.394,000 15.750
1845 Mav 30th Nov. 3rd 157 2.100,000 13 375
1846 Juno 10th ** l.t 144 1.800:000 12.500
1847 Mav 29th “ 27th 182 2,348,000 12,900
1348 “‘2oth “ 20th 134 2.730,000 14,835
1349 June 15th Dee. 10th 178 2,090,000 12,000
1850 July 3d Nov. lt 120
“ From the above we note that a 1 ate bloom
has always been followed by a short .yield,
and that the greatest daily production in any
one season has not exceeded 16,250 bales.—
Assuming that (his season has been equally
favorable for the growth of cotton as in 1843,
and that the daily production is 17,000 bales,
the yield will be 2,040,000; to which add the
ratio of increase per annum, as generally as
sumed, say 3 per cent, upon the crop of 1848,
viz.: 2,500,000ba1e5, is 75,000 —showing to
tal crop of bales, 2,115,000.
“It is stated by those who liel¥bvo in a
large crop, that the increase of the cultivation
this year is doubled that of any former one.
Allowing this to be correct, we must add 75-
000 bales to the above, making a total of
2,190,000 as the crop of this year. But
from this must be deducted the amount of da
mages caused by the floods in the spring, and
the storm which extended through the Atlan
tic States in August, variously estimated at
75 to 120,000 bales. Taking the medium
sum as a safe estimate, it appears improbable
that the crop of this year can equal that of last,
and under the most favorable circumstances
will not exceed it.
“On the other hand, it is contended by
those who believe in a short crop, that this
year the weather has been unusually unfavor
able for the production of cotton; that (he late
and aa et spring rendered replanting necessa
ry to a great extent; that the cold weather
in May, the excessive heat of July and Au
gust,followed by the severe storm at the end of
the latter month, have all tended to reduce the
yield; and with the addition of an early frost,
the rate of production per diem cannot besafe-
Iv estimated over that of the year 1848, say
is,ooobales,equal to a crop 1,800,000
To which add for the average
ratio of increase - - - 75,000
Making a total crop of- 1,875,000 bales.”
The Mormons and ttie Utah?.—lt is
stated that the Mormons have formed a trea
ty “offensive and defensive” with the Utah
Indians; and further, that many of these Indi
ans have been baptized in the Mormon faith.
O’ What avails all pomp and parade of
life which appears abroad, if, when we shift
the gaudy, flattering scenes, the man is un
happy, when happiness, like charity, must be
gin at home
NO. 51.