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OL. XXXIV.
■ ILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, Jl N E *28, 1853.
OS'lE. 550® L E S t OEIE,
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chains, his hands only being left free —
'' itli these lie took a piece of coal and
wrote some pious sentences on the wall •
upon this lie was manacled, but his wrists
were so severely pinched, that the flesh
grew up higher than the irons. His intel
lect became disturbed, his hair in wild dis
order some covered his face, through which
Ins eyes glared fierce and haggard. The
want of proper food, had treatment, his
v ife s death, his lengthened imprisonment,
entirely undermined his reason; when
.a*ought to .St. Paul’s he was kept three
days without meat, and when he appeared
before the consistory the poor prisioncr, si
lent and scarce able to stand, looked around
and gazed upon the spectators ‘dike a wild
man . The examination was begun, but
to every question put to him Freese made
the same answer:
“Mv Lord is a good man.” They could get
nothing from him but this affecting reply.
Alas! the light shone no more upon his un
derstanding, but the love of Jesus was still
in his heart. He was sent back to Bearsv
Abbey, where he did not remain long, but
he never entirely recovered his reason.
Henry VIII,-and his priests inflicted pun
ishments still more cruel even than the
stake.
Terror began to spread farand wide. The
most active evangelists had been compell
ed to flee to a foreign land ; some of the
most godly were in prision ; and among
those in high station there were many, and
perhaps Latimer was one, who seemed wil
ling to shelter themselves under an exag
gerated moderation. But just as the per
secution in London had succeeded in silenc-
ing the most timid, other voices more cour
ageous were raised in the provinces. The
City of Lxeter was at that time in great
agitation ; placards had been discovered on
yj business in the line of Printing will meet
j.r.>: ij.t attention at the Recorder Office.
Letters on business must be post-paid.
Blessed be Clod for Flowers.
The author of this sweet poem is, we understand,
Mr-. V. Tinsley. It was suggested by seeing a
tliiid asleep with flowers in its hand :
Blessed be Ood for flowers!
1 tlir Bright, gentle, holy thoughts that breathe
F, jh <>ut their odorous beauty, like a wreath
Of sunshine on life’s hours !
Lightly upon thine eye
Kill; fallen the noontide sleep, my joyous bird ;
A: 1 ihejugh thy parted lips the breath, scarce beard
Comes, like a summer sigli.
One rosy hand is thrown
Ii ■ ;i:!i thy-rosier check, the other holds
A Y >11 ji of sweet field flowers, whose bloom unfolds
A freshness like thiue own.
Around the fragrant prize
r grasp, thy little fingers close;
What are the dreams tlrat haunt thy sweet repose,
What radiance greets thine eyes ?
For thou art smiling still:
An !.i>u yet wandering in the quiet woods,
Kaci.Lig th’ expanded cups and bursting buds,
At thine unlettered will1
Or does some prophet voice,
ing amidst thy dreams, instinctive say—
ivi/." well those flowers, for thou, beyond to-day,
Shalt in their spells rejoice !”
Yes: thou wilt learn their power,
TV ; u, cherish’d not as now, thoustand’st alone,
luiiijiass'd by sweetly saddening memories, thrown
1.’ mid thee by leaf or flower!
Twill come! as seasons come,
T! empire of the flowers, when these shall raise
Round thee once more the forms of other days,
Warm with the light of home !
Shapes thou no more may’st see ;
Ti household hearth, the heart-enlisted prayer;
A: ili ii hast loved, and lest, and treasured there,
Were thy best thoughts must be. 1
Aye, prize them well, my child ;
r. lit, young, blooming things that never die ;
iV'inting our hope to happier worlds, that lie
Far o'er this earthly wild !
Prize them, that, when forgot
P all, their old familiar tints shall bring [sing,
v ' t thoughts of her w hose dirge the deep winds
And whose love earth holds not!
Prize them, that through all hours
Tiiuii liuld’st sweet commune with their beauty there;
And, lieli in this, through many a future year,
Bless thou our God for flowers.
From the St. Louis Kevcille.
fly Husband ises Tobacco.
Hi -its in his chair from morning to night,
Pis smoke, chew, smoke,
IF rises at dawn his pipe to iight,
1 - puffing and chewing with all his might,
LI the Lour of sleep. ’Tis delight
To smoke, chew, smoke.
"■ quid goes in when the pipe goes out,
’Tis chew, chew, chew,
Xmv, a cloud ofsomke pours from his throat,
ri u liis mouth sends a constant stream afloat
kithdi-ut to carry a mill or a boat,
Tis chew, chew, chew,
ile sits all day in a smoke of fog,
Tis puff puff, puff,
ji growls at bis wife, the cat and the dog,
ii ‘ covers with filth the carpet and rug,
•'•Atl hi- only answer when I give him a jog,
is puff, puff, puff.
house all over from end to end,
I- smoke, smoke, smoke,
jn whatever room my way I wend,
i I take Lis old clothes to patch and mend,
1 Attend perfumes will ever ascend,
Of smoke, smoke, smoke,
■v home or abroad, afar or near,
... ’Tissmoke chew, smoke ;
its mouth is stuffed from ear to ear,
v puffing the stamp of a pipe so dear,
Atul his days will end, I verily fear,
In smoke, smoke, smoke.
■ slag ladies, beware! live single indeed,
' a marry a man who uses “the weed
l T that husbands you ever should lack, O,
“u marry a “husband who uses tobacco.”
l rom D Aubigui History of the Reformation,
The Pcrsei'ution under Henry VIII.
I ton; that time the prosecution bcco
'‘■lit. Husbandmen, artists, trad
’pie, and even noblemen, felt tlie cr
!j: u c s °f the clergy and of Sir Thomas Me
“ sent to jail a pious musician u
, K ‘ i to wander from town to town, singin*
. ls harp a hymn in commendation of Mar
utiier and of the Reformation. A pain
named Edward Freese, a young man
• -ady wit, having been engaged to pa
■ ' ,iue hangings in a house, wrote on t
’ ! iets certain sentences of the Sci
.V le ' h’or this be was seized and taken
1 e Bishop of London’s palace at Fullha
Phere imprisoned, where his chief no
k a merit was bread made out of sawdust
j 11 '’ l )0(,r wife, who was pregnant, w<
( .°" j * 1 . tr> Fullham to see her husband; 1
| u bishop’s porter had orders to admit
j' 1 . 10 ’ au 'I the brute gave her so violent
h, as to kill her unborn infant, a
■owe tue mother’s death not long after
r y*. Ul) happy Freese was removed to 1
’'ho'ds tower where he was put ii
the gates of the cathedral containing some
of “the new doctrine.” While the Mayor
and bis officers were seeking after the au
thor of these “blasphemies,” the Bishop
and all his doctors, “as hot as coals,” says
the chronicler, were preaching in the most
fiery style. On the following Sunday, dur
ing the sermon, two men who bad been the
busiest of all the city in searching for the
author of the bills, were struck by the ap
pearance of a person seated near them.—
“Surely this fellow is the heretic,” they
said. But their neighbor’s devotion, for lie
did not take bis eyes off Iris book, quite put
them out; they did not preceivcthat be was
reading the New Testament in Latin.
This man, Thomas Bennett, was indeed
the offender. Being converted at Cam
bridge by the preaching of Bilnev, whose
friend, be was be had gone to Torrington for
fear of the persecution, and thence to Exeter,
and after marrying to avoid unchastity, (as
he says,) he became schoolmaster. Quiet,
bumble, courteous to everybody, and some
what timid, Bennett had lived six years in
that city without Iris faitli being discovered.
At last, bis conscience being awakened, be
resolved to fasten by night to the cathedral
gates certain evangelical placards. “Ev
erybody will read the writing,” be thought,
and “nobody will know tlie writer.” He
did as lie bad proposed.
Not long after the Sunday on which lie
bad been so nearly discovered, tlie priest
prepared a great pageant, and made ready
to pronounce against tlie unknown heretic
tlie great curse, “with book, bell and can
dle.” Tlie cathedral was crowded, and Ben
nett himself was among the spectators. In
the middle stood a great cross on which
lighted tapers were placed, and around it
were gathered all the Franciscans and Dom
inicans of Exeter. One of these priests hav
ing delivered a sermon on the words ; There
is aw accursed thing in the midst. ofthee, O
Israel, tlie bishop drew near the cross and
prounced tlie curse against the offender. He
took one of tlie tapers and said: “Let the soul
of the unknown heretic, if lie be dead alrea
dy, be quenched this night in the pains of
hell-fire, as this candle is now quenched
and put oi t and with that he put out the
candle. Then taking off a second, be con
tinued : “and let us pray to God, if be be
yet alive, that bis eyes be put out, and that
all the senses of bis body may fail him, as
now the light of the candle is gone extin
guishing the second candle. After, this,
one of the priests went up to the cross and
struck it, when the noise it made in falling
re-echoing along the roof so frightened the
spectators that they uttered a shriek of ter
ror, and held up their hands to Heaven, as
if to pay that the divine curse might not
fall on them. Bennett, a witness of this
comedy could not forbear smiling. “ What
are you laughing at ?” asked bis neighbors;
“here is the heretic, here is the heretic,
bold him fast.” This created great confu
sion among the crowd, some shouting, some
clapping their hands, others running to and
fro ; but, owing to the tumult, Bennett suc
ceeded in making bis escape.
The excommunication did not but in
crease bis desire to attack the Romish su-
perstitions ; and accordingly, before five o’
clock the next morning (it was in the month
of October, 1530.) his servant-boy fastened
up again by his orders on tlie cathedral gates
some placards similar to those which bad
been torn down. It chanced that a citizen
going to early mass saw the boy, and ruii-
ningup to him, caught hold of him andpulled
down the papers ; and then dragging the
boy with one band, and with the placards
in the other, lie went to tlie mayor of the
city. Bennett’s servant was recognised ;
his master was immediately arrested, and
put in the stocks, “with as much favor as a
dog would find,” says Foxe.
Exeter seemed determined to make itself
the champion of sarcerdotalism in England.
For a whole week, not only the bishop,
but all the priests and friars of the city, vis
ited Bennett night and day. But they
tried in vain to prove to him that tlie Ro
man Church was the true one. “ God lias
•riven me grace to be of a better church, be
said. “Do you not know that ours is built
upon Sf. Peter?” “The church that is
built upon man,” “is the devil’s church and
not God’s.” His cell was continually
thronged with visiters; and, in default of
arguments, tlie most ignorant oi the fiiais
called the prisioner a heretic, and spat up
on him. At length they brought to him a
learned doctor of theology, who, they sup
posed, would infallibly convert him. “Our
ways are God’s ways,” said the doctor
gravely. But lie soon discovered that J iie-
ologians can do nothing against the word
of the Lord. “He only is my way,” replied
Bennett, “who saith 1 am the tea//, the truth,
and the life. In his way will 1 walk : his
truth will I embrace ; iris everlasting life
will I seek.”
He was condemned to be burnt; and
More having transmitted the order de
comberendo with the utmost speed, the
Priests placed Bennett in the hands ot the
Sheriff on the 15th of January, 1531, by
whom lie was conducted to the Liverydole,
a field without tlie city, where the stake
was prepared. When Bennett arrived at
the place of execution, be briefly exhorted
the people, but with such unction that the
sheriff’s clerk, as be heard him, exclaimed:
“Truly this is a serv ant of God.” Two per
sons, however, seemed unmoved. They
were Thomas Carew and John Barnehouse,
hot Ji holding the station of gentlemen;—
Going up to the martyr, they exclaimed in
a threatening voice : “Say Precor, sanc
tum Hlartam ct armies santos Dei.” 1 know
no other advocate hut Jesus Christ,” replied
Bennet. Barnehouse was so enraged at
these words that he took a furzebusli upon
a ji.ee, and, setting it o i fire, thrust .’t into
the martyr’s face, exclaiming: “Accursed
heretic, pray to our Lady, or I will make
you do it.” “Alas!” replied Bennet, pa
tiently, “ trouble me notand then holding
up his hands, he prayed : “Father, forgive
them !” The executioners immediately set
fire to the wood, and the most fanatical of
the spectators, both men and women, seiz
ed with an indescribable fury, toreup stakes
and bushes, and whatever they could lay
their hands on, and flung them all into the
flames to increase their violence. Bennet,
lifting up his eyes to heaven, exclaimed :
“ Lord, receive my spirit.” Thus died, in
the sixteenth century, the disciples of the
Reformation sacrificed by Henry VIII.
The new volume now issued by the
Messrs. Carters in three different forms,
with prices varying to suit purchasers. The
whole work will he eagerly sought for by
the general reader as well as the theologi
cal student.
He is so Amiable.
A beautiful girl, gay, lively and agreea
ble, was wedded to a man of clumsy figure,
coarse features, and a stupid-looking phys
iognomy. A kind friend said to her one
day, “My dear Julia, how came you to mar
ry that man ?”
“ The question is a natural one. My
husband, I confess, is not graceful in his
appearance, nor attractive in liis conversa
tion. But he is so amiable ! Ar.d good
ness, although less fascinating than beauty
or wit, will please equally at least, and it is
certainly more durable. We often see ob
jects, which appear repulsive at first, hut if
we see them every day we become accustom
ed to them, and at length not only view them
without averson, but with feelings of attach
ment. The impression which goodness
makes on the heart is gradual; hut it re
mains forever. Listen, and I will tell you
how I came to marry my husband.
I was quite young when he was intro
duced for the first time into tlie house of
my parents. He was awkward in his
manner, uncouth in his appearance, and my
companions used often to ridicule him, and
I confess I was frequently tempted to join
them, hut was restrained by my mother,
who used to say to me in a low voice, “He
is so amiable !” And then it occurred to
me that lie was always kind and obliging;
and whenever our villagers assembled to
gether at our fetes and dances, lie was al
ways at the disposal of the mistress of the
house, and was profuse in his attentions to
those whose age or ugliness caused them to
he neglected. Others laughed at his singu
larity in this respect, hut I whispered to
myself, ‘He is so amiable.’
One morning my mother called me to
her boudoir, and told me that the young
man who is now my husband, had made ap-
plicationformy hand. I was not surprised at
this, fori already suspected that he regard
ed me with an eye of affection. "When I
recollected his ill-favored looks and his
awkwardness, I was on the point of saying,
‘I will not wed him,’ and I blushed for him,
which is a strong proof that I even then
felt interested in hfrn ; hut when 1 recalled
the many excellent traits in Iris character,
and dwelt on his benevolent and good ac
tions, I dismissed the idea of banishing
him from my presence. I could not resolve
to afflict him, and I whispered to myself,
‘He is so amiable !’
He continued to visit me, encouraged by
my parents, and cheered by my smiles.—
My other admirers one by one left me, hut
I did not regret their absence. I repeated
the expression, ‘lie is so amiable,’ so often
that it seemed to me to carry tlie same
meaning as ‘He is so handsome.’ I loved
him, and took him for my husband.
Since then I have not only been resign
ed to my fate, hut happy. My husband
loves me devotedly, and how can I help
loving him, ‘He is so amiable.’ ”
There is something exceedingly touch
ing in this love which beauty entertains for
goodness, and there is no longer a doubt
that some women love from a feeling of be
nevolence, or tender compassion, regulated
by reason. Such an affection will know no
change. It has a firm basis, and will en
dure through life.—Exchange.
The Hiding Place.
Whatever storms or tempests believers
are exposed to here, Christ is an excellent
shelter and hiding place from them. Be
fore Adam’s fall, ere sin entered into the
world, all was calm and serene ; hut since
that, the world has become a weary wilder
ness, full of tempests; and as one is laid
another is ready to blorv. There are storms
of outward affliction, sickness, losses and
disappointments, and many wrath-like dis
pensations of Providence. There are storms
of temptations from Satan, challenges from
Conscience, thunderings from Mount Sinai,
desertions from God, reproaches and per
secutions from the world—and yet all these
storms here are hut like drops before tlie
shower, if compared with the terrible storm
of wrath to come, which is abiding the un-
goilv and unbelieving. But glory to in
finite wisdom and free love, for finding out
a proper hiding-place for lost sinners amidst
these storms, to which we are called to turn.
“Turn ye to tlie stronghold, ye prisoners
of hope.”
“Hide me, O my Saviour hide,
Til! the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
O receive mv soul at last.”
Lord Campbell and John Bunyan.
Lord Campbell, the present distinguished
Chief Justice of England, in remarking up
on the Pilgrim’s Progress, says :—“Little
do we know what is for our permanent
e-ood. Had Bunyan been discharged and
allowed to enjoy iris liberty, he, no doubt,
would have returned to Iris trade, filling up
Iris intervals of leisure with field preaching;
his name would not have survived Iris own
veneration, and lie would have done little
for the religious improvement of mankind.
The prison doors were shut upon him for
twelve years. Being cut off from the ex
ternal world, he communed with his own
soul—and, inspired by Him who touched
Isaiah’s hallowed lips with fire, lie compos
ed the noblest allegory, the merit of which
was first discovered by the lowly, but which
is now lauded-by the most refined critics ;
and which has done more to awaken piety,
and to enforce the precepts of Christian
morality, than all the sermons that have
been published by all the prelates of the
Anglican Church.”
J. Howard Payne.
A correspondent of that excellent South
ern "Weekly paper, the Cotton Plant, (pub
lished in Baltimore,) in one of his late let
ters from Washington, gives the following
brief sketch of one whose name is as little
known to the world, as a single emanation
of his genius is widely appreciated :
“As I sit in my garret here (in Wash-
ington) watching the course of great men
and the destiny of party, I meet often with
strange contradictions in this eventful life.
The most remarkable was that of J. How
ard Payne—author of “ Sweet Home !”—
I knew him personally. He occupied the
rooms under me for some time, and liis con
versation was so captivating that I have
often spent whole days in Iris apartment.—
He was an applicant for office at the time—
Consul at Tunis—from which lie had been
removed. What a sad thing it was to see
the poor man subjected to the humiliation
of office-seeking. Of an evening we would
walk along the streets, looking into the
lighted parlors as we passed. Once and a
while we would see some family circle so
liappy, and forming so beautiful a group,
that we would hath stop—and then pass si
lently on. On such occasions he would
give me a history of his wanderings—his
trials, and all the cares incident to Iris sen
sitive nature and poverty. “How often,”
said he once, “I have been in the heart of
Paris, Berlin, London, or some other citv
and heard persons singing, or the hand or
gan play “Sweet Home,” without a shilling
to buy tlie next meal or a place to put my
head. The world has literally sung my
song until every heart is familiar with its
melody. Yet, 1 have been a wanderer from
my boyhood. My country has turned me
ruthlessly from office—and in my old age
1 have to submit to humiliation for bread.”
Thus lie would complain of liis hapless lot.
liis only wish was to die in a foreign land—
to be buried by strangers and sleep in ob
scurity.
“I in^Biim one day looking unusually
sad—“ have you got your Consulate ?”
said I.
“ A es—and I leave in a week for Tunis—
I shall never return.”
“Taie last expression was not a political
faith. Far from it. Poor Payne—liis
wish was realized. He died at Tunis.—
A\ bother Iris remains have been brought to
liis native country, I know not. They
should he, and if none others will do it, let
the homeless throughout the world give a
penny for a monument to Payne. 1 knew
him, and will give my penny, and for an
inscription the following :
Here.Lies J. Howard Payne,
The Author of “Sweet Homs.”
A wanderer in life—lie whose song was sung in eve-
And found an echo in every heart— [ry tongue
Never had a Home !
He Hied in a Foreign Hand !
It is a singular fact that very few per
sons in America know that the author of
“Home” was an American. If you ask
nine persons out of ton, even among those
who have any knowledge of musical histo
ry, they will tell you Sir Henry Bishop, or
some such person must have the credit.—
The truth is, this song was almost the only
tiling that Payne ever uid which is entitled
to remembrance. The author was a maker
of melodramas, and musical plays. “Home,
Sweet Home was a song in one of them.
Payne did not remain in the country to see
the piece performed, and tlie first time lie
ever heard his own song sung was in the
streets of a great European city. Its pa
thetic appeal to a sentiment which exists
in every human bosom, gives it an immedi
ate echo over the whole world, which has
not nor ever will die away.
A Florida Hammock.
The editor of the Ocala (Florida) Mirror,
noticing an erroneous statement on this sub
ject, gives the following description of a
Florida hammock, which the writer of this
knows to be materially correct:
“ There are some few swamps on the
streams that look like the swamp of other
regions, save the growth, it being a mixture
of palmeto, live oak, magnolia, lynn, and
an undergrowth of laurel, mock orange, &e.,
tangled with vines and jesamine. But a
genuine hammock is a high, dry, rolling
spot, set like an oasis in the pine barren.
The borders are generally very thick with
undergrowth ; farther in you find the ground
elevated, much clearer of undergrowth,
covered with the largest kind of sweet
gums, magnolias, whiteoaks, lynns, hicko
ries, liveoaks, cherries, often three or four
feet through. It is true, though high and
dry from the luxuriant growth of the for
est, one accustomed to river bottoms is con
stantly looking out for some large water
courses, which he never finds. There are
occasional channels or runlets which serve
during the rainy seasons to cany off'the ex
cess of water ; hut these are seldom over a
Yew hundred yards long, and plunge head
long into some hill-side and disappear.—
But, what is remarkable, when you pass
out of one of these hammocks you find your
self descending to the pine barren. There
is no mud in them, and fewer snakes than
in any new country we have ever seen, and
we have seen not a few new countries.”
Hammocks are of various sizes, from
some which include about an acre of ground
to others fifteen miles long and several
miles wide.
Fidelity.—Never forsake a friend when
enemies gather thick around him, when
sickness falls heavy upon him; when the
world is dark and cheerless; this is the
time to try friendship. They who turn
fr jm the scene of distress or offer reasons
why they should he excused from extend
ing their sympathy and aid, betray their
hypocrisy, and prove that selfish motives
only prompt and move them. If you have
a friend that doves you, who lias studied
your interest and happiness; defending
you when persecuted and troubled, he sure
to sustain him in adversity. Let him feel
that his kindness is appreciated, and that
Iris friendship was not bestowed on you in
vain.
ADDRESS
Before the »w York Historic;:' Society. 2t
METROPOLITAN KALL,
BY THE HON. EDWARD EVERETT,
On Wednesday Evening, June 1, 1853.
[concluded.]
In this rather uninviting sketch, it must
be confessed that it is not easy to recognize
the natural features of that thriving State,
which possesses at the present day above
eight hundred miles of railroad, and which,
by her rapidly increasing population, .and
liberal endowment of colleges, schools and
churches, and all the other social institu
tions of a highly improved community, is
fast earning the name of tlie Empire State
of the South.
After repeating these lines, it is scarce
ly necessary to say, that there was much
ignorance and exaggeration prevailing in
Europe .as to the state of things in Ameri
ca. But a few years after Goldsmith’s po
em appeared, an event occurred which
aroused and fixed the attention of tlie world.
The revolt of' the colonies in 1775,—the de
claration of Independence in 1776,—the
battles of the revolutionary war,—the al
liance with France,—the acknowledge
ment of American independence by the
Treaty of 1783,—the establishment of a
great federative republic,—the illustrious
career of Lafayette,—the European reputa
tion of Franklin,—and the towering charac
ter of AYaslrington gave to the United States
a great and brilliant name in tlie family of
nations. Thousands in every part of Eu
rope then probably heard of America, with
any distinct impressions, for the first time ;
and they now heard of it as a region real
izing the wildest visions. Hundreds in ev
ery walk of life began to resort to America,
and especially ardent young men who were
dissatisfied with the political condition of
Europe. Among these was your late ven
erable President, Air. Gallatin, one of the
most eminent men of tlie last generation,
who came to this country before he attained
his majority; and the late celebrated Sir
Isambert Brunei, the architect of that
Thames tunnel. He informed me that he
became a citizen of the State of New-York,
before the adoption of the Federal Consti
tution, and that lie made some surveys to
ascertain the practicability* of that great
work, which afterwards gave immortality
to the name of your Clinton.
Before the revolution, the great AVest was
shut even to the subjects of England. A
royal proclamation of 1763, forbade the ex
tension of the settlements in North Ameri
ca beyond the Ohio. But without such a
prohibition, the still unbroken power of the
Indian tribes would have prevented any
such extension. The successful result of
tlie revolutionary war did not materially al
ter the state of things in this respect. The
native tribes were still formidable, and the
British posts in the Northwestern territory
were retained. So little confidence was
placed in the value of a title to land, even
within the limits of the State of New-York,
that the enterprising citizens of Alassacliu-
setts, Gorham and Phelps, who bought six
millions of acres of land on the Genessee
river, shortly after the peace, for a few
cents the acre, were obliged to abandon tlie
greater part of the purchase, from the diffi
culty of finding under-purchasers to take
enough of it off their hands, to enable them
to meet the first instalments. On one. oc
casion, when Judge Gorham was musing in
a state of mental depression on tiie failure
of this magnificent speculation, he was vis
ited by liis friend and townsman who had
returned from a journey to Canandaigua, j
then just laid out. This friend tried to j
cheer the judge with a bright vision of the i
future growth of "Western New-York, and
kindling with liis theme, pointed, to a son
of Judge Gorham, who was in the room, and
added, “ Y r ou and 1 shall not live to see the
day, hut that lad, if he reaches three score
years and ten, will see a daily stage coach
running as far west as Canandaigua!” That
lad is still living. AMiat he has seen in the
shape of travel and conveyance in the State
of New-York, it is not necessary before this
audience to say.
It was the adoption of the Constitution
of the United States in 1789, which gave
stability to the Union and confidence to
tlie people. This was the Promethean fire
which kindled the bod3' politic into vital
action. It created a national force. The
Indians on tlie Southwest were pacified.
On the Northwestern frontier the troops of
tlie General Government were at first de
feated ; hut after the victory of AVayne and
the peace of Greeneville in 1795, the Brit
ish posts were surrendered, and the tide of
emigration began to pour in. It was ra
ther, however, from the older States than
from foreign countries. The vast region
northwest of the Ohio had alreadv receiv
ed its political organization as a territory
of the United States, by the immortal or
dinance of 1787.
AA'hile Providence was thus opening on
this Continent, the broadest region that
ever was made accessible to human pro
gress, want, or adventure, it happened that
the Kingdoms of Europe were shaken by
the terrible convulsions incident to the
French revolution. France herself first,
and afterwards the countries overran by
her revolutionary armies poured forth their
children by thousands. I believe there are
no official returns of the number of emi
grants to the United Ststes at the time, but
it was very large. Among them was M. de
Talleyrand, the celebrated minister of ev
ery government in France, from that of the
Directory in 1797 to that of Louis Phillippe,
in whose reign he died. I saw, in Peale’s
Aluseum, at Philadelphia, the original no
tice subscribed hv him in 1794, of liis pur
pose to become a citizen of the United
States. Louis Phillippe himself emigrated
to this country where he passed three years
and is well remembered by many persons
still living. He habitually spoke with gra
titude of the kindness which he experien
ced in every part of the Union.
As yet no acquisition of territory had
been made by the United States beyond
the limits of the British Colonies; hut in
1803 a most important step was taken in
the purchase of Louisiana, by which our
possessions were extended, though with an
unsettled boundary both on the Houth and
on the North, to the Pacific ocean. The
war of 1812 reduced the Indian tribes in
the Northwestern States; and the cam
paigns ot General Jackson, a few years la
ter, broke the power of the. native races on
the Southern frontier. Florida was ac
quired by treaty from Spain in 1819; and
the Indians in Georgia, Alabama and Alis-
sissippi, were removed to the west of the
river Mississippi, ten or twelve years later.
Black Hawk’s war in A\ isconsin took place
in 1833, and a series of Indian treaties,
SO. 26.
both before and after that event, had ex
tinguished the Indian title to all the lands
east of the Mississippi, and to considerable
tracts west of that river. Texas was an
nexed to the Union in 1845, and in 1S48
New Arexico and California were added to
our vast domains.
I have, as you perceive, run rapidly over
these dates, compressing into one para
graph the starting points in the history of"
future Commonwealths, simply in their
hearing on the subject of emigration. These
acquisitions, not inferior in extent to all
that there was solid in the Roman conquests,
have resulted in our possession of a zone of
territory, of the width of twenty degrees of
Latitude, stretching from Ocean to Ocean,
and nearly equal in extent to the whole ot
Europe * It is all subject to the power of
the United States; a jiortion of it has at
tained the civilization of tlie old world,
while other portions shade off through all
the degrees of culture, to the log house ot
the frontier settler, the cabin cf the trapper,
and the wig-wain of the savage. A\ itliin
this vast domain there are millions of acres
of fertile land to he purchased at moderate
prices, according to its position and its
state of improvement; and there are hun
dreds of millions of acres in a state of na
ture, and gradually sold at the government
price of a dollar and a quarter per acre.
It is this which most strikes the Europe
an imagination. The old world is nearly
all appropriated by individuals. There are
public domains in most foreign countries,
but of comparatively small amount and
mostly forests. AAritli this exception, every
acre of land in Europe is private property ;
and in such countries as England, the
Netherlands, France, Germany and Italy
what little is sold is sold only at a high
price. I presume the number id" land-hold
ers in England is far less than in the State
of New-York. In the course of the French
revolution, the land has been greatly sub
divided in France and in Germany ; and is
now held in small farms; hut owing to the
limited quantity of purchasable land, these
farms when sold are sold only at high pri
ces. Generally speaking, tlie mass of tlie
inhabitants in Europe regard ilie ability to
hold and occupy a considerable landed pro
perty, as the summit of human fortune.
The suggestion that there is a country be
yond the ocean, where fertile land is to he
purchased in any quantity, at a dollar and
a quarter per acre; and that dollar and a
quarter to he earned in many parts of the j
country hv the labor of a single day, strikes
them like the tales of Aladdin’s lamp or Ali
Baba’s cave. They forget the costs and
sacrifices of leaving home;—the ocean to
he traversed,—the weary pilgrimage in the
land of strangers after their arrival. They
sec nothing with the mind’s eve hut the
“laud of promise —they reflect upon
nothing hut the fact, that there is a region
on the earth’s surface, when a few days un
skilled labor will purchase the fee simple
of an ample farm.
Such an attraction would he irresistible
under any circumstances to the population
of an old country, where, as I have jost
said, the land is all appropriated and to he
purchased only in any considerable quanti
ty, at prices which put its acquisition be
yond the thought of the masses. But this
is hut half the tale. It must not he forgot
ten that in this ancient and venerable Eu
rope,—whose civilization is the growth of
two thousand years,—where some of the
luxurious refinements of life are carried to
a perfection of which we have scarcely an
idea in this country,—a considerable part
of the population, even in the most prospe
rous regions, pass their lives in a state but
one removed from starvation;—poorly fed,
poorly clothed, poorly housed,—without
education,—without political privileges,—
without moral culture. The average wages
of the agricultural laborer in England were
estimated a year ago at 9s. 6d. sterling,—
about 82 37A per week. The condition of
the working population on the continent of
Europe is in no degree better, it as good.
They eat hut little animal food either in
England or on the Continent. AA e form ro
mantic notions at a distance of countries
that abound in AYine and Oil; hut in the
best governed States of Italy, in Tuscany
for instance, the peasantry, though they
pass their lives in the vineyard and the
olive orchard, consume the fruit of neither.
I have seen the Tuscan peasants, unable to
hear the cost of the most ordinary wine
from the vineyards in which their cottages
are embosomed, and which can be bought
at retail fora cent the flask,—pouring wa
ter over the grape skins as they' conic from
the wine press, and making that their bev
erage.
Even for persons in comparatively easy
circumstances in Europe there are strong
inducements to emigrate to America. Alost
of the governments arc arbitrary,—the tax
es arc oppressive,—the exaction of milita
ry service onerous in the extreme. Add to
all this the harassing insecurity of life.
For sixty or seventy years the Continent
has been one wide theatre of scarcely in
termitted convulsion. Every country in it
has been involved in war;—there is scarce
ly one that has not passed through a revo
lution. AYe read of events like these in the
newspapers;—we look upon them with cu
riosity as articles of mere intelligence ;—
or thev awaken images of our own revolu
tion, which we regard only with joyous as
sociations. Far different the state of things
in crowded Europe, of which the fairest
fields in every generation arc trampled by
mighty armies into blood)- mire ! 1 kizzled
by the brilliancy of the military exploits
of which we read at a safe distance, we for
get the anxieties of those who grow up with
in sound of the cannon’s roar;—whose pros
pects in life are ruined, their business bro
ken up, their little accumulations swept
away by the bankruptcy of governments
or the general paralysis of the industry of
the country, their sons torn from them by
ruthless conscriptions, the means of educa
ting and bringing up tlieir families consum
ed by disastrous emergencies. Terrified
by the recent experience or the tradition of
these miseries, thousands emigrate to the
land of promise, flying not merely before
the presence but the “ rumor of war,” which
the Great Teacher places on a level with
the reality.
Ever and anon some sharp specific catas
trophe gives an intense activity to emigra
tion. AYhen the reign of terror was en
throned in France, and when every thing
in any way conspicuous whether for station,
wealth, talent, or service,—of every age
and of either sex,—from the crowned Mon
arch to the grey haired magistrate and the
timid maiden,—was brought to the guillo
tine, hundreds of thousands emigrated at
* Square miles in the United States, 3,260,073:
in Europe, 3,708,871. See American Almanac for
1853, pp 315 and 318.
once from the devoted kingdom. The con
vulsions of San Domingo drove most of the
European population of that Island to the
United States. But beyond every tiring
else, which has been witnessed in modern
times, tlie famine which prevailed a few
years since in Ireland, gave a terrific im
pulse to emigration. Not less probably
than one million of her inhabitants left her
shores within five years. The p< j illation
of this island, as highly favored in the gilts
of nature as any spot on the face of the
earth, has actually diminished more than
1,800,000 since the famine year;* the on
ly example perhaps in history of a si
milar result in a country not visited by
foreign wars or civil convulsion. The po
pulation ought in the course c f nature *o
have increased within ten years by ar len;t
that amount, and in point of fact letween
1840 and 1850 our own population increas
ed hv more than six millions.
This prodigious increa.sc of the popula
tion of the United States is partly owing to
the emigration from foreign c; untrics, which
has taken placr under the influence of the
causes, general and specific, to which I
have alluded. Or late years, from three to
four hundred thousand emigrants arc regis
tered at the several custom houses, as arri
ving in this country in the course of the
year. It is probable that a third as many
more enter by tlie Canadian frontier. Not
much less than two millions of or Ur; its
are supposed to have entered the United
States in the last ten years; and it is cal
culated that there are living at the present
day in the United States five millions of
persons, foreigners, who have emigrated
since 1790 and tlieir descendants.
There is nothing in the annals cf man
kind to be compared with this r—hut there
is a series of great movements u Inch may
he contrasted with it. In the period of a
thousand years which began about three or
four hundred years before our Saviour, the
Roman republic and empire were from time
to time invaded by warlike races from the
North and East, who hurst with oven; hel
ming force upon the South and AVest of
Europe and repeatedly carried desolation
to the gates of Rome. These multitudi
nous iinaders were not armies of men, they
were in reality nations of hostile emigrants.
They came with their wives,—with tlitb-
“young barbarians;” with their Scythian
cavalry, and their herds of cattle ; and they
came with no purpose of going away. '1 lie
animus manendi was made up, before they
abandoned tlieir ice-clad homes. They left
their arctic allegiance behind them. They
found the sunny hanks of the Arno and tlie
Rhone more pleasant than those of the Don
and tlieA olga. An accustomed to the sight
of an)-tree more inviting than tlie melan
choly fir and the stunted birch, its branch
es glittering with snowy crystals; brought
up under a climate where the generous
fruits are unknown ; these children of the
North were not so much fascinated as be
wildered “in the land of the citron and
myrtle ;” they gazed with delighted aston
ishment at the spreading elm, festooned
with Falernian clusters; they clutched
with a kind of frantic joy at tlie fruit of the
fig-tree and the olive;—at the melting
peach, the luscious plum, the golden orange,
and the pomegranate, whose tinted cheek
outblusliies every thing hut the living car
nation of youthful love.
AVith grim delight the Lrood of winter view,
A brighter day and heavens of azure hue:
Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose,
And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows.
By the fortune of war, single detachments
and even mighty armies frequently suffered
defeat, but their place was immediately ta
ken by now hordes, w hich fell upon declin
ing Rome, as the famished wolves in one of
Gatlin’s pictures fall upon an aged Buffalo
in our AY estern prairies. The imperial
Alonster, powerful even in his decrepitude,
would often scatter their undisciplined array
with his iron tusks, and trample them hv
thousands under his brazen feet, hut when
lie turned back, torn and bleeding to his
seven hills, tens of thousands came howl
ing from tie Northern forests, who sprang
at his throat and buried their fangs in his
lacerated sides, AA'herever they conquer
ed.—and in the end they conquered every
where,—they established themselves on the
soil.—invited now comers,—and from tlieir
union with the former inhabitants, the na
tions of the South and AVest of Europe, rt
the present day, for the most part trace their
descent.
AYe know hut little of the numbers thus
thrown in upon the Roman republic and
empire in the course of eight or ten centu
ries. They were no doubt greatly exagge
rated by the panic fear of the inhabitants ;
and the pride of the Roman historians
would lead them to magnify the power, be
fore which their own legions had so often
quailed. But when we consider the diffi
culty of subsisting a large number of per
sons in a march •through an unfriendly
country,—and this at a time when much of
the now cultivated portion of Europe was
covered with forest and swamp, I am de
posed to think that the hosts, which for a
succession of centuries overran the Roman
empire, did not in the aggregate exceed in
number tie* immigration that has taken
place to the United States since 1790. In
other words, I am inclined to believe, that
within the last sixty years the old world has
poured in upon the l nited States a numb* r
of persons as great,—with their natural in
crease,—as Asia sent into Europe in these
armed migrations of barbarious races.
Here of course, the parallel ends. The
races that invaded Europe came to lay waste
and to subjugate ; the hosts that cross the
Atlantic are peaceful immigrants. The
former hurst upon the Roman empire, and
by oft repeated strokes beat it to the ground.
The immigrants to Atfierica from all coun
tries come to cast in their lot with the na
tive citizens, and to share with us this griat
inheritance of civil and religious liberty.—
The former were ferocious barbarious,—
half-clad in skins,-speaking strange tongues,
—worshipping strange rods with bloody
rites ;—the fitter are the children of tho
countries from which the first European set
tlers of this continent proceeded, and belong
with us to the great common family of
Christendom, The former destroyed the
culture of the ancient world, and it was on-
Iv after a thousand years that a better civil
ization grew up from its ruins. The mil
lions who have established themselves in
America within sixty years, are, from the
moment cf tlieir arrival gradually absorb
ed into the mass of the population, conform
ing to the laws, moulding themselves to the
manners of tlie country, and contributing
tlieir share to its prosperity and strength.
It is a curious coincidence, that, as tho
first mighty wave of the hostile imnrigra-
* London Quarterly Review for December, 1:51,
p. 191.