Newspaper Page Text
Q(ftWSKEKBIB&F a
EDITED AND PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY
If/f-J.f.i.?/ H. MEAKMWSOJT.
[FOR THE SOOTHER!! MlSEl'M.]
Lines to Mia* H»rf Virginia •
There’s beauty on thy cheek, Virginia,
There’s brightness in thine eye,
And health upon thy form, Virginia,
Hath stamped its fairest dye.
Life's path is pleasant all before the*,
’Tis opening in thy youth,
And smiles and flowers will allure thee
To test asserted truth.
There’s many a thing in life, Virginia,
As moralists have told,
Which shines transcendant bright, Virginia,
And yet it is not gold !
These things will struggle to ensnaro thee,
To quiet thine alarm :
But from their splendid looks beware tlieo,
And then they cannot harm.
There’s fickleness in man, Virginia,
And woman will deceive;
And when thou claim’st a rose, Virginia,
Thou may’st a thorn receive.
Let those to whom thou wilt confide thoe
Prove worthy of thy care ;
For those who never have belied thee
Thy confidence may share.
Th.e heart of youth doth dream, Virginia,
That childhood's golden hours
Will never change from joy, Virginia,
But still be strewn with flowers.
Such visions, if they now enchant tlieo,
Will not prolong their stay :
For sorrow soon and woe will haunt thee,
And then they’ll fade away.
But life is not made up, Virginia,
Os dull and dark despair :
There’s sweetness in the draught, Virginia,
And solid pleasure there.
For let the cares of earth surround thee,
And winter's storms unfold,
Ifthou wilt wrap God's word around thee, 1
Thou need’st not fear the cold.
And then when life is o’er, Virginia,
And 'twill not always last,
Beyond the powerless grave, Virginia,
What promises thou hast:
A title to that realm secure thee,
Where sorrow ent’reth not;
And when thou dost that home procuro tlieo,
'Twill be a blissful lot!
Now is th'accepted time, Virginia,
Oh do not long delay ;
We know not when to look, Virginia,
For the great judgment day.
And oh! remember what I’ve told thee,
Should we ne’er meet again,
Oh! may I at God's bar behold thee,
Prepared for Jesu’s reign !
W. P. H.
A Loss of Labor Is a Loss of Vtrfuo.
Man is a progressive being. From the dust to
the cradle, child, youth, manhood, anJ finally
through the grave to an angel of happiness or
misery—from time into eternity—he catches se
raph’s wings, and mounts higher and onward
through immensity forever. Ilis destiny is in
his own hands, and is us active as his spirit is
immortal—eternity alone bounds his progress
The wages of sin is death —the father of all is
indolence. Then lose not labor or the spirit of
industry, nor trifle with the strength that enables
you to claim its rich and glorious reward of hon
or, virtue, and chastity, as well as the title of
being the noblest work of God—an honest man.
Oh that we had a pen of steel, from which
sentences of fire could blaze forth, portraying
the swelling wrongs to labor—that could paint
in true colors the glutting waves of rolling ava
rice; and, as the spire to the heavens, point to a
just standard of public sentiment that should turn
back the voracious monster whose heel tracks
the blood of virtue and innocense, crushing all
power to maintain her standing, while it drags
through custom, and drives through selfishness,
both labor and its dependents, not only down to
poverty aud despair, hut as a natural consequence
forces upon its devoted victim the loss even of
honor, chastity, and virtue itself.
To say nothing of the inability, unfashionable
ness, and frequent disinclination to labor, as well
as the general and growing competition in labor,
we fear and tremble for the institutions of our
country when we behold the growing and de
nationalizing feeling for the laborer, and partic
ularly for the female portion of the community—
for our mothers, wives and daughters—for her,
who by nature's laws gives birth to a nation's
statesmen and wariors—who shall train oui sons
and brothers for the next generation of men, and
have all power to make them, just what they
themselves are, if bowed down, ignorant anil
degraded; so will be the future history of our na
tion's acts, laws and religion. No nation ever
rose above the character of its wives and mothers.
Stationary feelings, passions and character in
man never fias existed, and never can while time
lasts, for like, it they are onward to other bright
er or darker scenes. Yes, inan is progressive, al
ways striving to o'ertake some master-spirit
whose intelligence flashes upon society, and a
wakes to life and light the slumbering energies
of mankind.
Love and sympathy are the only universal
weapons of civilization and Christianity. No
proper progress ran be made without them, for
Christ and his apostles began with them, and first
gave us the immortal principle of “love thy
neighbor as thyself,” from which we get the nev
er dying sentiment that “all men are free and
equal.” Do we, as an enlightened and Christian
nation, cither obey the one, or seem to believe
the other. If so, why so much opposition? Why
is labor shunned, and the laborer cast down as
unworthy of his hire—robbed of his pay and the
privilege to labor by the insulting sneer of arro
gance and false pride? When virtue is robbed
and chastity dethroned, why do we see such
great apathy when once assertained to be the
virtue of poverty and industry instead of wealth
and indolence, even in the administration of our
laws of equal jnstice. The answer is easy.
Public sentiment has not a proper standard.
Love and sympathy are lost—yea, even buried
by many in the growing avarice, pride and self
ishness of their own breasts. Their prosperity
is too great. They know not whr.t manner of
men they are. 3name Americans ! ! Who are
we, whence came we? Land of our birth forgive
us. How long shall each remain to blacken
thine own bright and peculiar character? Shades
of Washington and Franklin rerurn!—Puritan
fathers, where are your descendants? Awake,
arise thou slumbering reformer—thou spirit of
justice, mercy and sympathy—and stir the indig
nation, and fire the soul of the nation, till she
puts forth some lofty hand with power to raise j
uomt standard of public sentiment tb.it shall'
keep progress with the baser passions, and be
worthy of the nation and the age.
How shall it be done? says one. Let sympa
thy, charity and justice be cultivated and sus
tained in each breast till man shall own man and
know his brother —till avarice and selfishness
shall trail in the dust and cease to forge the
chains that enslave the conscience of each suc
ceeding generation, and blacken the domestic
industry of chaste and honest poverty —till love,
virtue and justice become co-equal with the
boundless mercy of Heaven’s extended prosperi
ty, and we as a nation, still nursing the noble
sentiment of our Puritan fathers, “he just and
fear not,” shall move on to our proud destiny as
a moral example to tho bruised and Heathen
nations of the earth.
If dead to all else, let us hold to our nation's
proud eminence for intelligence and industry—
p< int not the finger of scorn that shall level the
t <wering consciousness of republican industry
and habits in our sons, mothers, wives and
daughters, or longer bold to our bosoms tiie scor
pion fangs of bigotry and selfishness that curse
the waking hours of the laboring parent, and lac
erate and destroy the slumbering innocence of
the meek, confiding and frugal wife or daughter;
hut on the other hand, let as nerve our conscience
to justice—pay good and remunerating wages to
all , hut let the right arm drop from its socket be
fore we oppose defenceless industry, or throw
our might of influence into the scale of that pub
lic opinion that thoughtlessly invites an aristo
cratic, bigoted and selfish sentiment to our shores,
to undermine the lowest foundation stone in the
mighty fabric of our institutions, and in practice
give the lie to the immortal declarations that
“all men are equal,” and “the laborer is worthy
of bis hire.”
Remember, then, that thou, thyself, crush not
nor lose labor, for with it goes virtue and cltasli
ty —even Heaven itself.
Tiie Cartiiksians —Upon examining the hab
its and character of tho ancients, it is astonishing
to find how much more devout and assiduous
they were in their religious duties than the gen
erations of modern times. The fcwcentuiies
immediately ensuing the birth of Christ were
especially marked with this spiritual zeal. Nor
was it the ardor of devotion alone which was
then so distinguishing, hut there likewise exis
ted a variety of sects, and a diversity of tenets,
which were almost innumerable. One of the
most singular among those various classes ofdc
votees, was the Carthusians, so called from the
desert Chartreux, the place of their institution.
This order was founded in the year 1080, by one
Burdo, and was remarkable for the austerity of
rule by which it was governed. Its members
were not allowed to go out of their cells, except
to church, without permission from the superior;
nor speak to any person without leave from the
same authority. They were prohibited from re
taining any portion of their meat or drink for
the ensuing day to that when it was placed be
fore them. Their beds were of straw covered
with felt, and their clothing composed of two
hair-cloths, two cowls, two pair of hose, and a
cloak, all of which were of coarse texture. In
the refectory, they were required to keep their
eyes on the dish, their hands on the table, their
attention on the reader, and their hearts fixed
upon God. What power of self-denial was here
exercised, and yet how mistaken a notion, thus
to worship their Maker in fear rather than lu\e.
The Hindoos. —There is no class of people
among the yet unenlightened, who attract such
universal attention, and who at the same time
are so imperfectly understood as the Hindoos,
we can only account for this by allowing the
fact, that their national characteristics and their
religious forms are more numerous and peculiar
than such ns distinguish other uncivilized tribes
It appears that tin ir social and civil government
is entirely based upon, and almost identified with,
their religious tenets, thereby affording them
selves a most formidable excuse for the severity
and injustice which their forms impose.
It may not, perhaps, he amiss to enumerate
here a few of those superstitions and creeds
which belong to this order. It is universally
supposed among them, that by the command of
their principal deity, Drama, they were divided
into four distinct tribes, or eastrs \ iz: The Bra
min, the Kliatry or Soldier, the Üby sc or Hus
bandman, and the Zoodera or Laborer. Os these
the Bramin is the most noble, taking precedence
even ol l’rinces. W hen one of these disgraces
himself lie is expelled from his tribe or caste,
and when thus disgraced, forms a fifth class call
ed Pariahs, or Cltandalas. It is furthermore be
lieved by this people, that Brama, (who is allow
ed to be supreme) after having created the world,
gave existence to a female deity, called Bewaney
who is esteemed by the Hindoos the mother of
the gods, because she is said to have produced
three eggs, whence sprang Brimha, Vislmon, and
Shocvah, representatives of the wisdom, good
ness, aud /lower us the supreme.
It is also firmly believed by the Hindoos, that
that they were the first created, and consequent
ly the most ancient people in the world—and
likewise that they were the first inventors of the
game of Chess.
Character. —ln cities,and yet more in coun
tries the minute discriminations of character,
which distinguish one man from another, are for
the most part, effaced. The peculiarities of tem
per and opinion are gradually worn away by
promiscous converse, as angular bodies and un
even surfaces lose their points and asperities by
frequent attrition against one another, and ap
proach by degrees to uniform rotundity.
The opinions of every man must be learned
from himself. Concerning his practice, it is
safest to trust the evidence of others. Where
those testimonies concur, no higher degree of
certainty can be obtained of his character.
To get a name can happen but to few 4 A
name, even in the most commercial nation, is
one of the few things which cannot be bought—
it is the free gift of mankind, which must be de
served before it will be grunted, and is at last un
willingly bestowed.
Man’s study of himself, and the knowledge of
his own station in the ranks of being, and bis
various relations to the innumerable multitudes
which surround him and with which his Maker
has ordained hint to be united, for the reception
and communication of happiness, should begin
with the first glimpse of reason, and only end
with life itself. Other acquisitions are merely
temporary benefits, except ns they contribute to
illustrate the knowledge, and confirm the prac
tice, of morality and piety, which extend their
influence beyond the grave, and increase our
happiness through endless duration.
\\ kariness or Mind. — It has been said, and
we believe it, that nothing exists without its use.
Our cures and misfortunes have their use, as
well as our joys and prosperities. If the one el
evates the mind with delight, and renders for the
time our being or happiness, the other calls us to
a true knowledge of what we are—frail, finite
and dependent.
But though an obvious use can thus be traced,
in both our pleasures and our pains, these teach
ing us the blessings of our existence, and those
bringing us to the knowledge of the conditions
on which alone we enjoy them, we have yet ev
er found it very difficult to discover the object
for which that state of mind was ordained us,
which seems to partake neither of pleasure or
pain.
Vie mean a certain listlessness, which every
student, we are sure has frequently experienced,
when the mind, enervated and worn, lies as
though it were becalmed on the ocean of the
w'orld—and yet lies not asleep, but wide awake
to the weariness of the time. When nothing
seems of sufficient importance to excite the de
sires, and nothing sufficiently intimidating to
awaken it into fear or anxiety. It is not a state
of sorrow for we grieve at nothing. It is not a
state of pleasure, for we can delight in nothing.
When in this frame of mind, we endeavor to
fix our attention on the familiar objects about us,
we find it not in our power—that so soon as we
grasp one object of thought, we lose hold on those
immediately preceding it, and the connection be
tween them escapes us. And when we make an
effort to withdraw our eyes from the objects a
round, and pursue a train of sublimer reflection,
wc still find that the spirit flags aud flutters on
the earth, as though it were fettered, and is whol
ly unable to|exert itself in the contemplation,
either of its bcuificent creator, or the works of
his hand.
Let it not be deemed presumption in man, to
inquire for what was this state of the soul design
ed? Every development of the principles of
nature is nothing hut the tracing out the design
of the Almighty architect. We may surely
then, venture to surmise, for what objects this
state of the mind might have been intended.
Mu y it not have been intended to shew us, by I
the unwiliiiguess with which we hear it, how |
j little consistent with the nature of our being is j
| mar tit ity or nothingness? How absurd for man, j
I in any situa'ion, to wish either that he had nev- I
jcr been horn, or to die? May it not also be de- |
| signed to bring us to a true notion of the value ;
of pleasure and pain, by placing us in the #nly (
■ situation in which we can be said to be alike in- ;
! different to both? IVfby it not be Further design- i
j oil to teach us, that however opposite to our in-
I elinations our condition may be in any scene of
! life—yet there is not only a use, buta benevolent
use, (though often far beyond the scope of our
limited capacity to conceive) in every change,
i and in every circumstance?
II e who hath pervaded every corner cf crea- j
I lion in the fullness of his bounties, yvili never j
forget man in the fullness of his love. What j
seems at present an evil, yve vet are bound to |
believe is intended for good, llisa blessing to lie '
born—it is a blessing to enjoy our existence—it
is a blessing to suffer—and a blessing, at the ap
pointed time, to die. For lie has designed all,
and all nature proves that his designs are be
nevolent.
M A CON, G A
SATURDAY MORNING, DEC. 9, 1843.
HU* We design, in the publication ofourpa
per, to encourage domestic talent, and wc
should be highly pleased to see those of our
friends who can possibly do so, favor us witl an
article or tyvo. We desire to make the Musium
interesting to all classes, and therefore wish aur
correspondents to have their offerings of varied
characters,
“From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
To Advertisers. —The arrangements now
making to extend the circulation of our paper in
this city and the surrounding country, already
warrant the filling up of our advertising co
lumns. The success of our enterprise has fur
exceeded our most sanguine expectations, and,
| in the fust two weeks of its existence, our edi
tion is as large as wc contemplated publishing
in the first volume. This is cheering to us, and
yve need hut the aid of the advertising public, to
make our paper of more interest to the mass of
the people, and to improve its size and appear
ance. No pains shall be spared on our part to
lender all of our patrons an abundant return for
their support. Wo do not wish the public to
judge of the Museum from the published issues
—there are many leading features which we
have, as yet, been unable to present to our read
ers, by which we expect to enhance the value
of our paper. Nor have yve been furnished with
an exchange list, to make our selections, which,
together with other circumstances, needless
now to mention, have prevented a variety in
the neyvs department. In order to make these
additions, it is desirable that we be aided by
the mercantile class. Still, we do not beg for
their patronage ; we are confident that the pub
licity given to their advertisements yvili amply
justify the expense, and we think that our mer
chants need but the knowledge of their interests,
to act in accordance with them.
McMakin’s Model American Courier.—
We perceive that not only tire name oftliis mam
moth weekly is enlarged, but also its size and
the variety of its reading matter. Wo have en
grossed many hours very pleasantly, poring
over the miscellany of its distinguished contrib
utors, and we doubt not that many weary hearts
and enquiring minds are cheered and animated
hv its weekly arrival. The Courier has, we
believe, the largest circulation of any Literary
paper in the Union, amounting to upwards of
seventy thousand !
Wright’s Casket. —This is a monthly pa
per, devoted to the improvement of the minds
ofthe Wives and Daughters of America, and to
the creation of a pure Literature. We com
mend it, and the “Paper” also, most heartily to
our readers, ->nd when we reflect that its subscrip
tion price is but 25 cents per annum, wc are as
sured that its editor will meet with the most lib
eral support. We shall take occasion, upon the
first opportunity, to notice the object of its pub
lication more in detail.
The Weather. — If we did not know that tve
were really near the middle of December, in
the midst of leafless trees and withered vegeta
tion, the balmy air and extremely pleasant wea
ther, would i eully make us conclude it to be the
flowery month of May. We do not remember
to have seen, at this season of the year, the at
mosphere so warm, or the beautiful moonlight
nights so agreeable, as they are now. We do
not know what is to follow, unless we are to
have a postponement ofcold weather until next
winter, or perhaps, as it is near the close of
“Leap Year,” the last opportunity is afforded
for the gentle sex to “propose” during their eve
ning promenades. Taking this for granted, as
there is no time to lose, our fair friends had
best throw pff their natural timidity, go about
the work with confidence, and hid adieu to
spinsterhood and 1848 at one and the same time.
We promise, on our part, to post up in a con
spicuous place in our Museum, the first bache
lor who dares to put the negative to such a ten
der appeal, as it is certain lie would be an un
accountable curiosity.
O’A youth in Cincinnati lately married his
sister’s cook. He was determined to provide
far the kitchen.
Tlic Low Price of Colton.
A great deal has been said about the present
depressed state of our staple market; many rea
sons have been assigned for it; vague and un
certain disputations have been entered into by
politicians, assigning causes foreign from the
truth, and many have either wilfully or igno
rantly misrepresented the true state of affairs.
We trust that wo shall not lay ourselves liable
to a charge of inconsistency, in our party neu
trality, if we indulge in a brief review of the
cottrn tradq as it now stands, and the causes
which have produced this disastrous reduction
in the price of this all-controlling article. In
the first place we raise too much Cotton ; in the
next, wc suffer it to control us to a much more
extensive degree than it should—and lastly, we
arc too dependant upon foreign consumption for
the sale of this product. An extensive demand
in England causes an increase in the price there,
and consequently in this coustry —while a dimi
nution in Liverpool prices affects our markets
with a siinilardecrea.se. The recent revolution
upon the continent of Europe, depressed the
limisli shipments, and likeyvise the American
j exports —and the pockets of the people of the
| United States have to suffer for the introduction
<>.‘'.lll uncertain and extremely unstable Republic
in France. Be this as it may, we intend not to
make a bravado speculation upon the qualifica
tions of that people for self-government —we
feel inclined to sanction every attempt, even
though it be an unsuccessful one, to shake off'
the dominion of monarchy. Still, whatever
depreciating aid may have been given by events
abroad, w« charge home upon our own citizens
and countrymen a great measure of the responsi
bility for their pecuniary embarrassments. We,
at the South, imperatively demand, and must
have, if yve listen to our interests, a greater di
versity of labor. We raise Cotton at -1 or 5 cents
per pound, and send to the North to buy our
provisions ! We have to pay nearly as high for
Northern and English manufactured goods when
Cotton sells at 3 cents, as when wc get 12J for
it. The farmer is dependant upon the merchant
for his yearly supplies, and the merchant upon
foreign markets for the profits of his merchan
dize. IfCotton is low at the time of planting,
the farmer must produce a larger quantity to co
ver the prospective deficit, and to raise his usual
income from that source. IfCotton falls unex
pectedly, he is left minus a proportionate
amount of money, and is either tiiat much in
debt, or loses so much of his profits. Now, the
correct rule of arguing, to our mind, is this: (if
the hypothesis be allowed, that the amount of
fered for sale rules the price of purchase, or that
the demand governs the price of the supply,)
ifCotton brings 5 cents per pound with a supply
of two millions of bales, a decrease of one half
the produce would double the price of the re
maining quantity. Thus, if the farmer should
raise one hundred bales upon one hundred acres
of land, and receive 5 cents for it, would it not
manifestly be to bis interest to plant but fifty acres
raise but fifty bales, and receive ten cents per
pound for the proceeds? Most assuredly. Be
cause, in that case, lie has the use of one half
of bis land, and one half of his labor, for the
production of grain, or whatever else he may
sec fit. People of the South! how long shall
this simple, but self-evident truth be disregard
ed by you ? How long will you adhere to the
old beaten track of a century, when it may be
conclusively demonstrated to your satisfaction,
that it will forever keep you in a state of abject
dependance upon those who have no sympathies
in common with you ; they who would willing
ly, if they could, make you lose 25 per cent, up
on your Cotton, and pay them a price by which
they can realize 100 per cent, upon their manu
factures? Farmers! by -your labor and indus
try, by the sweat of your heated brow, you arc
to make a menial profit of 2 or 3 per cent., and
they, by the operation of purely mechanical
means, are to realize 30 or 40 ! We appeal to
the sense ol justice of every right-minded man,
if this is an equality of privileges? Wc speak
regardless of the usages of party ; we care noth
ing shout them : we aim* at making an exposi
tion of the truth and nothing but the truth, nor
shall the servile fear of offending partizan ears,
deter us from the performance of this duty. We
proclaim it, alike in the hearing of both poli:i
cal parties, that without a more independent ex
ercise of the available resources of the Southern
country ; without a more diversified farming in
terest, we never shall obtain a steady, fair com
pensation for our Cotton ! Has not the history
of the past proved this fact ? When has the
Cotton market been at a uniform rate of prices
for a twelvemonth together ? When lias it nev
er been fluctuating, rising and fulling at the ca
price of arbitrary consumers? When, under
the present posture of affairs, will it ever beata
reliable and constantly remunerating price? We
fear it never will be, so long as the production
continues to exceed the amount of consumption.
Are not the farmers, then, the men who pro
duce the staple of the country, to blame for the
decrease in Cotton? Can the farmers of this
section of the country raise nothing but Cotton
upon their lands? Is the soil only calculated to
produce that staple ? If they can prove this to
be the case, then arc they excusable ; if not
they are chargeable for their own losses. It is a
notorious fact, known to every one who has ex
amined the climate or the surface of this section
that almost everything necessary for home con
sumption, can he produced upon our lands.—
Yet Southern farmers will persist in raising an
article which does not pay them 2 per cent, pro
fit, and, in very many instances, buy with the
proceeds, the articles necessary for their planta
tion use.
If our planting friends bear with us a
a moment, we will tell them what we conceive
will be the only probable means of obtaining a
fair price for Cotton. Wo will not assume,
however, our statements to be correct, hut, as
they are intended more for comparison than for
accuracy, they will serve the present object. If
the amount of the crop planted is reduced one
half, employ your land in raising corn, for in
stance, feed it v. way to your hogs the coming
year, and bring the hi con to market. This arti
clo is generally worth 8 or 10 cents per pound,
hut, for the sake of argument, wo will place it
at 5 cents, the lowest rate to which it is likely |
to fall. An acre of ground, we suppose, will ;
produce corn enough to raise 400 lbs. of bacon,
which, at 5 cents per lb., is S2O, while the same
amount of land will make 200 lbs. of Cotton,
which, at 5 cents per lb., will amount to $lO,
making a balance of $lO per acre in favor of ba
con ; besides the almost absolute certainty of
enhancing the ptice of Cotton one-half. Thus,
at the loiecst price of bacon, you make more
than by raising Cotton at double the present quo
tations ; while if you receive from G to 8 cents
for it, by far the most reasonable supposition,
you make more than if you receive 12 cents for
Cotton, and, at the same time, use the most in
fluential means of increasing the price of the sta
ple.
It is not our intention to present to our agricul
tural friends, arguments calculated to allure
them in the theoretical, and injure them in
their practical use. We desire to see them
prosperous and happy, and while we yield the
palm of more extensive knowledge in the practi
cal part of agricultural pursuits, we are assured
that they need only to turn their attention to
these suggestions, given, it may he, long ere
this, to acquiesce in them, and test their valua
ble results. As it is now, we must look up w ith
awe and reverence to that great power, which
can ruin millions by its capricious value.
There is not a class in the community, at all
connected with business affairs, which is not af
fected more or less,by the riseor fall in the price of
Cotton—while to some classes, and most influ
ential ones they are too, it concentrates their
all, and is either the means of making their for
tunes, or of rendering them bankrupts. Labor,
at the South, if we expect to make it either use
ful or profitable, must he more versatile—it
should not he centred upon one monopolizing
production, hut, by the mutual dependance of
a variety of interests, one upon another, render
ing, thereby, all classes independent Wo hope
to sec this desirable result consummated soon.
Tlic mechanic.
He only is truly great, who promotes the hap
piness of Ids fellow-creatures, and renders him
self useful to them. A conqueror may bathe a
nation in blood, and come forth a mighty mur
derer: but tlic tears of orphans and widows,
rendered helpless by Ids brutal command, rise
up in condemnation, and strip him of Ids empty
glory. A statesman may hold a nation suppli
ant under his powerful mind ; but the loftiest
soarings of his fervid eloquence are inferior to
the strokes of the sledge-hammer, unless their
object be to benefit mankind. The coffers ofthe
millionaire, locked up in bis miserly clutch, are
valueless beside a score of nails in the carpenter’s
hand. The learning of the literati, confined to
vain and useless theories, is eclipsed by the
practical knowledge of an unpretending farmer.
How much, then, do we owe to the truly great
man, the plain, honest, industrious Mechanic !
His hands arc rough with the toil of the ham
mer and the plane, and Ids face is burned by the
scorching rays of the sun—yet Ids heart is warm,
Ids affections are glowing, Ids emotions arc pure,
and bis conscience clear ! Ilis ears arc open
to the cry of pity, and Ids hands and purse are
ready to aid in the ministry of the benevolent,
110 robs no wife of her husband ; lie makes
none fatherless ; be snatches not the hard-earned
penny of the widow; tie tears not the bread
from the orphan’s mouth ; lie causes not the
burst of anguish, nor brings down the curse of
the destitute; —the nobleman of nature—the
Mechanic !
Ilis slumber is sweet, and his moments of lei
sure unalloyed by the nausea of luxiirv. He
feels not the gnawings of morbid ambition, nor
the witheriugs of disappointed preferment. He
Hatters not the pride of the rich, nor bends to
the craven power ofthe unjust.
There are some ladies who would not marrv a
mechanic—very well : they arc beneath him !
There are some men who will not countenance
a mechanic—it is well : their favor would not
honor him ! Nature pays her court to him, and
lies pliant in his hands, while she turns away in
disdain from the purse-proud aristocrat !
Docs he need testimonials of his worth? Be
hold our cities—they tie the monuments of his
grandeur! Speak to him, man of wealth ! thy
gold is dross without him ! Speak to him, man
of intellect, thou art his debtor! Revere him,
ye sagos ! bow to the man of the kind heart,
the rough hand, the toil-worn brow—the good,
the great the noble Mechanic!
Monotonv. —Perhaps there is nothing more
distasteful to a reading mind, than a long scries
of ideas, dressed and re-dressed in the most en
gaging language, and at all periods served up to
assume the appearance of originality. There is
no better evidence of a shallow intellect, than
to see a man delving, and straining to obtain
a sentence, and then trimming off the sharp
edges, and substituting one phrase for another,
until it haslost its primitive verhage. Education
may give the command of language, and a pow
er of expression, hut it cannot he tiie creator
of thought—because, if talent he assisted by ed
ucation, an outlet is opened to description, in a
precise ratio with the capacities of the mind’, hut
if education ho the only possession, the motive
power being wanting, the maks of knowledge is
inert, and, as a consequence, it is valueless.
Thus it is, that men become wearisome in their
sermons, their speeches, or their writings—they
may be men of learning, notwithstanding, and
possess all the material of a beautiful composi
tion, hut, lacking the variety, the depth and
power of thought, they are compelled to keep
their ideas in a dull, monotonous channel. In
a newspaper, this is most reprehensible. If an
editor be without this talent of nature, lie should
never place himself in a position where lie has
to cater for such a great multitude of tastes, as
various as the features of the human face. This
is an evil we intend to guard against, and though
we assume not to remedy it entirely, we shall
endeavor to discharge our duty, and leave the
public to overlook the defects in our capacities.
KpThe population of Delaware ia 80,000—
the number of bushels ofw heat raised is 410,000
and the product of all the agriculture of the
State is $2,679,000.
Tub Central Railroad. — By reference to
the advertisement in another column, it will
be seen that the Annual Meeting of the Stock
holders of this Company will take place at Sa
vannah on Thursday next.
The Republican says, “We learn that of the
ten miles of new iron just received for the Cen
tral Road, seven and a half miles will be laid
down at this end of the Road, and two and a
half at the Macon end. This disposition of it
will give an ample supply of the flat bars on this
end, and of the T bars on the other, for such
occasional repairs as may be needed, and this
system will, we presume, be continued as often
as new iron may be required, until the entire
road shall be completely renewed. The receipts
ofthe Central Road thisyear will be much largor
than they have ever been before, and it may
with justice be said that its prospects were nev
er better than at present.’’
Remarkable Aniiqbities in New Mexico.—
Among the valuable publications of the United
States Senate, at the last session, is Lieutenant
Abf.rt’s Report of bis Topographical examina
tion of Now Mexico. He explored the country
thoroughly in the years 1846 and 1847, with a
detachment of the Topographical Corps, by or
der of tho Government, and his report reveals
the existence of the remains of the semi civilized
race that has disappeared. In the language of
a distinguished antiquary, it enables us fully to
identify the “Kingdom ofthe Cibola, ’ visited
by Castenada, the chronicler of Ceronado’s ex
pedition, sent Northward by the Viceroy Men--
doza in 1540-'42.
Some of the towns visited by Lieut. Abert
sti 11 bear the name by which they were known
in the 16th century, and the inhabitants, in
manners, mode of building, &c , have under
gone scarcely any perceptible change from that
period. The town of Acoma, visited by Lieu?
Abert, probably dates hack beyond the conquest
aud was one of the “seven cities” ofCastcnada.
It is situated upon a rock, inaccessible except
by a narrow, and, in part, artificial passage,—
The buildings are three and four stories high,
with no entrance from the ground. The stairs
recede so as to leave terraces in front, which nro
reached by moveable ladders. The openings
into the interior are through the roof. In case
of attack the ladders are withdrawn, and tho
buildings, fifty or sixty of which compose a block
or square, are immediately converted into an al
most impregnable fortress. One of these edi
fices, the “Pueblo de Taos,” has successfully
resisted all tho attacks of the wild Indians and
the Spaniards. It is seven stories high. It was
reduced by the American forces, January 7th,
1847, by a long and bloody siege.
The ruins of ancient buildings, and the traces
of a remote population, are numerous upon the
river Gila* They differ in many respects from
those of New Mexico. Their existence has long
been known, and lias been supposed to lend a
sanction to the extraordinary migration ol the
Aztecs, by whom it lias been conjectured they
were built Those which are standing arc com
posed of clay, and are several stories in height.
Upon the Gila, Lieut. Emory found t*vo sin
gular semi-civilized aboriginal tribes. They
are the Pintos and Coco Maricopas. They cul
tivate the soil, irrigating it by means of nume
rous canals, and live upon the most friendly
terms with each other. They are hottest, in.
dustrious, brave, but peaceable, and in all res
pects afford a contrast to the roving Apaches who
occupy the country to tho northwestward.—
Lieut. Emory heard of similar tribes in the ter.
rilory above the Gila, between the Piipos and
the Navajos, which are probably the. same with
the Moqui of Humboldt. One of these, the
Soonies, are represented to he farther advanc
ed in civilization than the Pintos. It is also
stated that they reside in caverns cut in the rocks
—suggesting at ortcc the “seven oaves” front
which the Aztecs claimed that their ancestors
migrated.
Although the remains found on the Gila pos
sessed few features in common with the struc
tures erected by the Mexicans, and are certainly
not beyond the capabilities ofthe present or an
cient Indians of Now Mexico, they still attest
the former existence here of a population differ
ing from the Pintos at least in the construction
of their edifices, and which may have migrated
Southward or disappeared under the attacks of
hostile neighbors. They certainly tend to con
firm the Aztec tradition, and invest the unknown
nations to tho northward with new interest. A
knowledge ofthe true character of these nations
is a great desideratum.
Arkansas. —Gov. Drew, in his late Message,
estimates that the population of the State will
roach 300,000 when the Federal census shall be
taken in 1850, which will entitle her to three
Representatives in Congress after that time On
the subject of Slavery in tlm Territories, the
Governor considers that tho people, in forming
a State Constitution, have a perfect right to
tolerate it, any act of Congress prohibiting the
emigration of citizens with their slaves, to the
contrary notwithstanding. The institution of
slavery, he says, is local, not national.
Messrs. Borland and Sebastian have recent
ly been elected U. S. Senators, the former to
fill Mr. Sevier’s vacancy ; the latter that of
Mr. Ashley. It was thought Mr. Sevier would
he elected for six years commencing on the 4tli
of March next.
Emoiiy College. —There are at the present
time in this institution one hundred and sixteen
students, of which nineteen are Seniors, thirty
six Juniors, twenty three Sophomores, and thir
ty eight Freshmen. Terms of tuition, $44 per
annum. Board, including fuel, washing, Ac.,
from $9 to sl2 per month.
Import ok Sugar. —The Baltimore Sun says;
“We see it stated that in the first six months
under the now Tariff, (from Ist December, 1846,
to Ist June, 1847,) we imported $6,847,559 in
value of sugar against $1,589,284 in the same
six months ur.Jer the tariff of 1842, showing an
excess of over five and a quarter millions of
dollars, or 128,515,189 lbs. sugar. In this ratio
the increased importations of the year were over
tlcrcn. millions dollars. This is on enormous
excess over what had boon calculated upon.”