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THE SOUTHERN SENTINEL Is published every Thursday Morning, IN COLUMBUS, GA. BY WILLIAM H. CHAMBERS, EDITOR AND rROTKIETOR. T* whom all communications must be directed, poet paid. OJice 071 Randolph Street. T(?rins of Subscription. Obo copy twelve months, in advance, - - *2 50 “ Not in advance, -3 00 ‘ Six ‘ •< “ - 150 \V here the subscription is not paid during the year, 15 cents will be charged lor every nftjnfhfe dclav. No subscription will be received for less than six months, and none discontinued until all arrearages are paid, except at the option of the proprietor. To Clubs. hire copies twelve months, - SlO 00 Ton “ “ 16 00 The money from Clubs must in all eases ac company the names, or the price of a single subscription will be charged. Rates of Advertising. One Square, first insertion, - - - gl 00 “ “ Kacli subsequent insertion, - 50 A liberal deduction on these terms will be made in favo r •f 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. D.—Sales of Lands, by Administrators, Ex ecutors, or Guardians,arc required bv law to be hold on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10 In the forenoon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court House in the county in which the land is situated. No tices of these sale3 must be given in a public gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale. Sales of Negroes must be made at a public auction oa the first Tuesday of the month, between the u.-ual hours of sale, at the place of public sales in the county where the Letters Testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, first giving sixty a > rs notice thereof in one of the public gazettes of this Ktata, and at the door of the Court House, where such sales are to be hold. Notice for the sale of Personal property must be given in like manner forty days previous to the day of Bale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that application will be inado to the Court ol Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must be published for FOUR MONTHS. Notice for leave to sell Negroes must bo published for font months, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. Citations for L*tters of Administration, must be pub lished thirty days—for dismission from administration, monthly six months —for dismission fiom Guardianship, FORTY BAYS. Rules for the foreclosure of a Mortgage must be pub lished monthly for four months —for establishing lost pasors, for the full sfice of three months —for eom- BefliHg titles from Executors or Administrators, where a loßdfiasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of three months. Publications will always 1)0 continued According to these legal requirements, unless otherwise ordered. SOUTH URN 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 a manner which can not be excelled in the State, on very liberal terms, aud at tbe shortest notice. We feel confident of our ability to give entire satisfac tion in every variety of Job Printing, including Books, Business Curds, Pamphlets, Bill Heads, Circulars, Blanks of every description, Hand Bills, Bills of Lading, Posters, t^r. In short, all descriptions of Printing which can b” ex ecuted at any ofiice in the country, will bo turned out with elegance and despatch. 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.