Newspaper Page Text
in Heaven, I pray you to protect my little
ones. Preserve them, my father, from the
snares of the world, from the temptations
which await the poor and the unfriended.
I have known hardship and privation —I
have shrunk from the winter’s cold, end
panted beneath the summer’s heat for my
children’s sake, and I have learned how ter
rible are the dangers which beset the child
of poverty and pride. For my husband I
ask your forgiveness and your forbearance ;
he will bring you his children to atone for
his fearly error —let them be to you even as
I was in the days of my merry childhood,
and if the wilfulness of their mother’s na
ture ever springs up within their innocent
bosoms, tell them of tlieir mother’s sin, and
of her punishment. God bless you father!
it is the last prayer, save one, of your dy
ing MARIAN,”
The heart that had refused to melt at the
voice of a penitent child, was touched at
last. The agony of a contrite spirit was
too terrible for human eye to witness, and
Mr. Dale lay for hours, like a crushed
worm, upon the earth, ere he was sufficient
ly calm to meet his innocent grandchildren.
A vain hope of silencing the voice of con
science, led him to lavish kindness on all
whom Marian had loved. Her husband re
turned to America, where, a liberal annuity
from Mr, Dale, enabled him to live in liis
own way, while few unpleasant reminis
cences of former sorrow were allowed to
sadden the countenance, or depress the
spirits of the thoughtless, good-hearted man.
A second marriage soon severed the slen
der ties which bound his heart to the object
of his youthful passion, and to the mind of
him for whom Mari n had sacrificed the
happiness of a father, and to whom she had
devoted her brief existence, her memory
soon became as the half-traced image of n
painful dream. Mr. Dale still lives to find
iu the budding virtues of his two grand
children, some alleviation of his sorrow ;
but in the little church yard of Dalcsford,
arises a slender marble shaft, on wliii h is
inscribed the single word, “ Marian,” and
when his eye turns to that vain memorial of
her whose ashes sleep beyond the Atlantic
wave, the remembrance of the obduracy
which doomed her to an early tomb, pierces,
like an artow to tho heart which still be
wails an only daughter, while, to the gentle
children of an erring mother, that monu
ment seems to say the only commandment
which bears tvith it promise, is one which,
even in this world, is never violated with
impunity.
Brooklyn, L. I.
WOMAN.
The following eloquent tribute to woman
is by Burret, the 1 learned Blacksmith.’
We have seldom read anything finer.
•“ There are new developemcnts of hu
man character which, like the light of dis
tant stars, are yet to visit the eye of man
and operate upon human society. Ever
since the image of the Godhead was first
sketched in Eden, its great Author and an
gels have been painting upon it; influence
like the incessant breath of heaven, have
left each its line upon the canvass •, still the
finishing stroke of the pencil will not be ac
complished until the last lingering survivor
of the “wreck of matter <S: crush of Worlds”
is changed in the twinkling of an eye.
“ The hemisphere of the present age is
studed all over with much pearls “ and pati
nes of bright gold,” as never shone before in
the heaven of the human soul. In these
latter days, the waves of time have washed
Hip from depths that angels never fathomed,
gomsof purer light serene,” than ever
worn before in the crown of man. We are
now but half way advanced in anew cycle
of human history. The race.is hut. just
emerging from the long reaching shadows
of an iron age, and coming out into the star
light and sunlight of new influences. If,
as we are assured, scoves of new stars have
taken raiik with the heavenly host during
the last two centuries; stars brighter than
they, have in the same period, kindled up
new lights in the moral firmament. Among
these new stars, one a little lower than that
of Bethlehem has just appealed above the
horizon. It is the star of Woman's Influ
ence. Influential woman is abeing of scarce
two centuries; up to that period, and al
most hitherto, her influence has fallen upon
human character and society, like the feeble
rays a rising winter’s sun upon polar
fields of ice.
But her sun js reaching upward. There
is a glorious r “eridian to which she shall as
suredly come as to-morrow’s rising sun shall
reach his or our natural heaven. What
man will be, when she shall shine upon him
then and thence, we are unable to divine ;
but we can found an anticipation from the
influence of her drawing rays. Her morn
ing tight has gilded the visions of human
hope, and silvered over the night shadow of
human sorrow. There has been no depths
of human misery beyond the reach of her
ameliorating influence nor any height of
human happiness which she has not raised
still higher. Whoever has touched at eith
er of these extremities, or at any of their
intervening points, could attest that “ neith
er height nor depth, nor principalities, nor
powers, nor things present or to come,”
could divert or vitiate the accents and ano
dynes'of her love. Whether we can trace
the lineaments of her character in the mild
twilight of her morning sun, or in the living
beams of her rising day, we find that she
lms touched human socict like an angel.
It'would be irreverent to In r worth to say,
in what walks of life 9he b s walked most
like an angel of light and love: in what
vicissitudes, in what joys or sorrows, in
what situations or circumstances, she has
most signally dischasgod the heavenly min
istrations of her mission , what ordeals have
best brought out the radiance of her hidden
jewels ; what fruitions of earthly bliss, or
furnaces of affliction, have best declared the
fineness of her gold.”
Duelists refuse to fight, unless their chal
lengers are gentlemen. They will let black
guards live ; but are desirous of sending gen
tlemen to kingdom come. The world is not
overstocked with the latter description of
characters. They had much better shoot
the blackguards, and refuse to kill the gen
tle. aen.
• CHRISTIAN NAMES.
We promised our readers that we should
commence making free with some of the
gentlemen’s names, and give them our ideas
of the signification to be attached to them.
We begin, then, with William, which we
consider a very pretty one. William will
generally he found a gentleman, and a fa
vorite with the ladies. He is always polite,
difficult to put out of temper, and invariably
willing to do anything in his power to oblige
a lady, which is perhaps one reason why he
is so much liked by them. William Henry
is much the same sort of a person as Wil
liam, but perhaps rather more lively, and
inclined to be something of a general lover,
lie basks in the sunshine of the ladies’
smiles, and existence would lie a blank to
him, if he had not frequent opportunities of
paying his devoirs to them.
Now, tho abbreviations of this name, as
commonly used, indicate very different per
sons. Bill is always a dirty,rude, disagree--
able, unpleasant person—filthy, both in per
son and manners. Will, on the contrary,
although rude, is not so dirty or disagree
able as Bill. Will is a ranting, roaming
blade, always in mischief, and if a hoy, and
you put on him anew suit of clothes in the
morning, he will be sure, before night, to
damage them—watch him, as you may, you
can’t prevent it. He will either fall down
with such violence that his pantaloons will
split across the knee, or he will get the ser
vant to hang up his jacket on some utiacces
sible (to him) nail, and when lie endeavors
to jerk it off, will give it an unlucky pull,
that will make a rent, or else he will get in
to some scrape, and in running away, will
catch a portion of liis apparel on a projecting
rail. Iu fact there is no end to his misfor
tunes. Accidents will happen to a person
called Will, that you never hear of befalling
any one else. Lastly, there is Willy, who
again is a very different person. \\ illy is a
fair haired, gentle, amiable, intelligent per
son, with an open, ingenuous countenance,
which at once prepossesses you in liis favor,
and he is always liked the better the more
you know him.— United States Telegraph.
THE SUMMER NIGHT.
The summer alone might elevate us!
God, what a season! In sooth, I often know
not whether to stay in the city or go forth
into the fields, so alike is it everywhere,
and beautiful. If we go outside the city
gate, the very beggars gladden our hearts,
for they are no longer cold; and the post
boys who can pass the whole night on horse
back, and the shepherds asleep in the open
air. We need no gloomy house: We make
a chamber out of every bush and thereby
have my good industrious bees before us,
and the most gorgeous butterflies. In gar
dens on the hills sit schoolboys and in the
open air look out wofds in the dictionary.
On account of the game-laws there is no
shooting now, and every living thing in bush
and furrow and on green branches, can en
joy itself right heartily and safely. In all
directions come travellers along the roads;
—they have their carriages for the most
part thrown hack —the horses have branches
stuck in their saddles, and the drivers roses
in tticir mouths. !he shadows of the
clouds go trailing a! u:g,— the birds fly be
tween them iij) ami *uwn, mid journeymen
mechanics wander cl.. er:ly on with their
bundles, and want no wont. Even wheif it
rains we love to stand out of doors, and
breathe in the quickening influence, and the
wet does tlie herdsman harm no more. And
is it night, so sit we only in a cooler shadow,
from which we plainly discern the daylight
on the northern horizon, and on the sweet
warm stars of heaven. Wheresoever I
look, there do 1 find my beloved blue on the
flax in blossom, or the corn-flowers, and the
godlike endless heaven into which I would
fain spring as into a stream. And now it we
turn homeward again, we find indeed but
fresh delight. The street is a true nursery,
for in the evening after supper, the little
ones, though they have but few clot lies up
on them, are again let out into the open air,
and not driven under tho hod-quilt as in
Winter, We sup by daylight, and hardly
know where the candlesticks are. In the
bed-chamber the windows arc open day and
night, and likewise most of the doors, with
out danger. The oldest women stand by
tho window without a chill, and sew. Flow
ers lie about everywhere—by the inkstand
—on tho lawyer’s papers —on the justice’s
table, and the tradesman’s counter. The
children make a great noise, and one hears
the howling of ninepin-alleys half tire night
through our walks up and down the street;
and talks loud, and sees the stars shoot in
the high heaven. The foreign musicians,
who wend their way homeward towards
midnight, go fiddling along the street to
tlieir quarters, and the whole neighborhood
runs to tho window. The extra posts ar
rive later, and the horses neigh. One lies
in the noise by the window and drops asleep.
The post-horns awake him. and the whole
starry heaven hath spread itself open. O
God! what a joyous life on this ‘little
earth!— Jean Paul.
The Drummer Boy of Lundy's Lane. —
Major-General Wingfield Scott, while on
the frontier during the late border difficul
ties, at ft complimentary dinner given liim
by the citizens of Cleveland, related the fol
lowii.g characteristic anecdote that occurred
during tlie battle of Lundy’s Lane, in the
last war : In the very midst )f tl-e battle,
his attention was arrested by observing at a
little distance, where a whole company of
riflemen had just been cut down by the ter
rible fire of the enemy, three drummer boys
quarrelling for a single drum, all that was
left to them. Soon the two stronger ones
went to “ fisticuffs,” while the third quietly
folded his arms, awaiting the issue of the
contest. At tliut moment, a cannon ball
struck the hoys, and killed them both.—
\Vi|,h one bound, the little fellow caught the
drum from between them, and with a shout
of triumph, and a loud “ tattoo,” dashed
forward to the thickest of the fight. Said
tlie General, “ I so admired the little sol
dier, that 1 rode after him and enquired his
name, which was , and directed him
to find me at the close of the battle ; but I
never saw him afterwards.” At this mo
ment, Mr. , one of the most respect
able merchants in Cleveland, arose, and,
with a smile and bow, informed the company
that he was the “Drummer Boy of Lundy’s
Lane.”
IMPROMPTU.
“ Come kins me,” said Robin. I gently said, “No;
“ For my mother forbade me to play with men so.”
Ashamed by my answer, he glided away,
Though my looks pretty plainly advised him to stay —
Silly swain, not at all recollecting—not he,
That bis mother ne’er said that he must not kiss me !
©mmm/hL. _
A LECTURE,
Delivered before the “ Ft/rsyth Polemic and
Literary Society.” By a Member.
BRITISH CORN LAWS.
Mr. President and Gentlemen
of the Society :
Your attention is invited to a brief con
sideration of a subject to which we see con
stant reference made, hut which, it is pro
bable, is understood by few.
In that country to which most of us trace
our ancestry, we have seen, during the past
year, one party displaced, and another, after
years of defeat and disaster, again elevated
to place and power. The late Ministry of
Great Britain, to carry out the reform pro
mised by them, were proceeding step by
step, and had arrived at a point when they
thought it expedient to propose a modifica
tion of the Corn Laws, so as to lessen the
price of a commodity which is familiarly
styled the staff of life, and is deemed essen
tial to the existence of all classes. One
would readily suppose, that the hare propo
sition would have received a universal as
sent ; hut upon taking the vote, Ministers
were left in a hopeless minority, Parliament
was dissolved, and anew Parliament called
in order that the question might be submit
ted to the ballot box for decision. Then
ensued one of tlie most fiercely contested
elections ever witnessed in England—and
the result was the complete and triumphant
success of the Tories, and the party in favor
of continuing the present oppressive system
of Corn Laws. This is matter of history
with which all who have attended to the
current news of tlie day are familiar; but
the cause which gave rise to this political
revolution may not be as generally under
stood, I propose, then, briefly to explain,
as clearly as I may be able, the operation of
the British Corn Laws—to show their effects
upon the moral and social condition of the
English people—-to traee their connection
with our own interests—-and, lastly, to an
swer a question which naturally suggests
itself: Why was’it that when the question
of cheap or dear bread was submitted to the
people, the decision was in favor of the lat
ter ?
In this investigation, an inquiry into the
ancient Corn Laws of Great Britain is not
necessary. For a long time, in the legisla
tion of that country, the object of such laws
was to secure to the people an abundance
and a cheap supply of bread. With this
object in view, the exportation of grain was
prohibited—afterwards it was partially per
mitted—and again, changing the object of
the law, and having in view the interests of
agriculture, instead of a cheap market for
bread to the poor, a bounty was paid upon
the exportation of grain. This was a radi
cal change of the object embraced in the j
early legislation upon this subject; and it j
is upon the latter principle, viz: the pro
tection of agriculture, that the present sys-
tem of Corn Laws is based; and what was
formerly effected by a bounty upon the ex
portation of grain, is now more surely and
certainly attained by a prohibition upon im
portation, or by duties equivalent to it, when
the price ot grain is low—a moderate duty
when ‘he price rises higher, and a nominal
duty when the price is considered exces
sively high. The effect is to secure to the
English agriculturist a home market for his
grain ; and, as foreign competition is exclu
ded, the price of wheat and other grains is
always higher in England than in other
countries of Europe, so that the object of
affording protection to agriculturists is com
pletely attained. To enter more into detail,
the system is this:
When l ! e price of wheat ranges from 43
to 445. per quarter, the duty is equivalent to
the price—that is, ,C 2 3s. ; when from 44
to 455. per quarter, the duty is C 2 2s. S d.,
and thus as the price rises, the duty increas
es; and when the price reaches 735. per
quarter, the duty is only Is. But you will
understand it better when given in our own
vernacular language of dollars and cents. —
A quarter is 8 bushels, and wheat at 435.
per quarter, is 81 19 cts 3 mills per bush
el. When, therefore, the average price of
wheat is 435. per quarter, and the duty 435.,
according to our computation, the price
would be 81 19 cts. 3m. per bushel, and the
duty the same. You will readily perceive
that at a duty of §1 19 cts. 3 ms. per bushel,
the importation of grain would bo ruinous—
a duty equivalent to the price operates as a
total prohibition When the price rises to
445. per quarter —that is, iu Federal money,
$4 22 cts; 1 m. per bushel—the duty is 81
IBcts. 4 nis.; at 81 24 cts. G ms. per husliel,
,the duty is 81 13 cts. Sms.; at 81 27 cts.
6 ins. per bushel, the duty is 81 12 cts. 8 ms.;
at $1 30 cts. 4 ms. per. bushel, the duty is
$1 Sets. 2 ms.; at 81 33 cts. 2 ms. per bush
el, the duty is 81 7 cts. 3 ms.; at 81 35 cts.
9 ms. per bushel, the duty is 81 2 cts. 7 ms.;
at 81 41 cts. 5 ms. per bushel, the duty is 97 i
Cts. 1 m.; at $1 72 cts. per bushel, the duty
is 68 cts. 4 ms.; at $1 85 cts. 9 ms. per bush
el, the duty is 51 cts. 8 ms.; at 81 91 cts.
5 ins. per bushel, the duty is 37 cts. 9 ms.;
and thus as the prices rises, and the duty
decreases until it reaches 735. per quarter,
and Is. duty—or, in our money, 82 2 cts.
G ms. per bushel—the duty is 2 cts. 8 ms.—
Now let it be borne in mind that when wheat
is at its minimum price in England, it is yet
higher than other nations would he willing
to afford it, and it is then that the heaviest
duties are imposed so as to exclude foreign
competition, and the price must rise beyond
the usual market price before the duties arc
reduced so low as to justify the importation
of wheat. Hence, you perceive, the hard
ship and oppression of the Cora I^aws —
their constant and inevitable tendency is to
keep up the price of bread stuffs ; and it is
not a difficult matter to see how such a sys
tem makes the poor poorer : how it makes
the rich richer will he shown hereafter.
The next question which presents itself
is, how is the market price ascertained with
sufficient certainty to authorize the imposi
tion of a particular duty ? It is done in this
way: the average price is ascertained week
ly in London, on every Thursday, always
ending on, and including Saturday, and al
so for the six weeks immediately preceding,
from weekly returns of sales and purchases
made in one hundred and fifty of the prin
cipal market towns. In London the sellers,
in all other towns the buyers, must make
the returns to the receiver, or corn inspec
tor, in their respcctiv: towns. .These re
turns are transmitted to the Comptroller of
Corn Returns, in London. The Comptrol
ler, on Thursday of each week, pioceeds to
add together the quantity of grain sold and
the prices paid for it. He then divides the
total quantity sold by the total amount of
prices paid, and the quotient is the average
price for that week. He then adds this av
erage to the averages of the five preceding
weeks, divides the amount by 6, and the
quotient is the General averatre for the six
preceding weeks. This average is receiv
ed on Saturday morning by the Collectors
of the Customs, and is the price by which
the duty on grain entered for consumption is
ascertained and regulated, for the ensuing
week.
It is difficult for us to see the practical ef
fect and bearing of this complex system up
on the price of grain, but this much we may
see—that it is a plan admirably adapted to
keep up the price of grain and to impover
ish those who look to the market for their
daily bread. Its operation is to keep the
ports of Great Britain almost continually
shut against foreign grain. In order that
wheat may be imported at the nominal duty
of one shilling per quarter, or 2 cents 8 mills
per bushel, it is necessary that the average
price for six weeks be 735. per quarter, or
$2 2 cts. 8 ms. per busliel. This can rare
ly happen, and if at all, only in the time ol a
long continued scarcity, or when the dealers
in grain, anticipating a short crop, import
large quantities of grain and bond it, and
then withhold their English grain from mar
ket, until the average price is forced up to
the point at which imported grain can be
entered for consumption at the low duty of
1 shilling per quarter,
We will now consider the effect of this
system upon the moral and social condition
of the people. And here you will, no doubt,
anticipate me. It must be apparent to all
that the immediate and necessary conse
quence is, to keep the poor bound down in
hopeless poverty, and, at times, to bring them
almost to starvation. England teems with
an over-crowded population. Her lands
are divided in large estates, and owned by
the Aristocracy. The great mass of the
people are tenants of the nobility—day-la
borers and operatives employed in manu
factures. So numerous are the two latter
classes that, in the first place, to get employ
ment at all is difficult; and when obtained,
the price of labor is as low as it can possibly
be reduced. Bread is an article of first ne
cessity, and every increase of price is a tax
upon the consumer, and takes so much from
his daily wages—.-so that when the English
operative has purchased his daily bread, and
paid for it out of his scanty wages, the pit
tance left is scarcely, at any time, sufficient
to purchase clothing and fuel, aud to educate
ins elnidi en. —Y> i. may hence perceive onc
reasori why it is necessary for England to
have a system of Poor Laws as well as
Corn Laws—one is a necessary concomi
tant of the other.
Another injurious effect of’tlie Corn Laws,
especially upon the poor, is the sudden fluc
tuation of prices to which the system is li
able. It may be well to remark here that
grain may be imported into England and
stored away in ware-houses, under the Jock
and key of the Government, free of duty :
iri this state it is said to be bonded. Now
when the owners wish to throw it into mar
ket, they must enter it for consumption and
pay the duty required by the average pr ice
of wheat at the time they take it out of bond.
Dealers in grain sometimes import large
quantities and thus bond it until a scarcity
in tlio market, or some other cause, forces
the price up to the point when tlie duty can
be paid and a profit realized. Immense
quantities thus thrown into the market at
once cause prices to recede—they suddenly
fall, and the duties again become prohibi
tory, and the introduction of further sup
plies is stopped until the same process is
repeated. Now, it is this operation of the
corn laws which so injuriously affects the
moral and physical welfare of the working
classes, and to none more than to them, is
steadiness of price more important. The
poor man wishes to possess some well
grounded confidence in the average cost of
maintaining his family; and he must he
more or less than humjm, if he does not de
sire to lay by a surplus from his hard earned
wages to enable him to better his condition,
to secure a command of comforts in declin
ing age, and to leave an inheritance to his
children to protect them from want and
suffering when he shall descend into the
grave. But hard, indeed, is his lot, and bit
ter and gloomy his mood of mind, if the
surplus of his earnings, obtained by toil
strung nerves, and saved, perhaps, at tlie
cost of many a severe struggle against the
tempting indulgence of the passing hour, is
to be wrested fi om him by the ever recuri mg
seasons of high prices, and then inadequate
to save him from a heavy amount of misery.
It is different with the wealthy—in times of
scarcity and high prices, they have means
to fall back upon—and can endure these
changes and fluctuations without a material
change in their habits—hut the poor must
starve and overflow by turns —and in order
that they may be forced to drain the cup of
poverty to the very dregs, the demand for
their labor is diminished, and consequently,
their wages reduced when bread is dearest.
Scarcity of grain and high prices, of course
diminish tlie power of the consumer to buy;
and the workman surely is in a poor condi
tion to stand out for high wages when food
is dear and work scarcely to he had. How
foolish then —how absurd, nay, how crimin
al is that policy which narrows the district
from which supplies are drawn, and thus
entails poverty upon thousands for the bene
fit of the few.
Another injurious effect of the corn laws
upon the morals of the community is, that
they beget a species of gambling. Dealers
in grain, anticipating a short crop and a dc
ficlency in the supplies, import large quan
tities ol wheat and other grains and bond it.
Grain in England always bears a higher
price than in other countries of Europe,
and if it were admitted free or at a moder
ate duty, the importation at the customary
English market prices would be profitable.
Grain being thus introduced from a cheap
market and bonded, dealers commence their
operations to force the averages up to the
point when it can be entered for consump
tion at I*. per quarter, or 2 cts. 8 ms. per
bushel—this done, they realize an immense
profit—if they fail, they incur a heavy loss.
To effect their object, fictitious sales are
often made at high prices, and as the returns
of prices are made by buyers and selleis,
they have the grain in their own hands:
from these returns of fictitious prices, the
averages are made up, and it is thus that
the operations in the corn exchange often
put to the blush the gambling of stock
jobbers, and well they may, for the gambling
in stocks only allbcts capitalists—while
gambling in grain falls With a crushing
weight upon the laboring poor.
In accordance with my arrangement, 1
have next to trace the connection of the
corn laws with our own it •crests. We have
States whose soil is as prolific in grain as
any on the globe. Need I attempt to prove
that their interest would be promoted, if the
ports of Great Britain were thrown open to
their grain ? It is not in this view that I in
tend to consider this branch of my subject,
but to take a view in which we are more
immediately interested. How do the corn
laws affect our own great staple 1 Mainly
in this way: When bread is abundant and
cheap in England, her manufactures flour
ish. Labor is in demand, and her opera
tives finding coustant employ met and regu
lar wages can afford to expend more for
clothing and other necessaries of life, apart
from what they have to pay for bread—so
that even at home there is a greater demand
for her cotton fabrics and other manufac
tures, and whatever increases the demand
for cotton enhances its price. Besides, if
the ports of Great Britain were thrown
open to foreign grain at a moderate duty, or
if it were admitted free of duty, there would
boa constant and cheap supply of bread
stuff's-—not only the prices of” grain, but also
of cotton Would he regular and steady, for a
fluctuation in one necessarily produces a
fluctuation in the other. If prices were
steady, operatives would not be thrown out
of employment and manufactures would not
be stopped.
I have already shown how the corn laws
operate to prevent this regularity and stea
diness juf prices in grain; but there is an
other view in which the subject may be con
sidered. England sometimes, during a
scarcity, experiences great difficulty in ob
taining a supply abroad. Not being a regu
lar customer, whenever she has recourse to
foreign markets to supply the deficiency of
her crops, the dematfd is extraordinary; and
nations which do not sell to her regularly
have not their markets always arranged to
accommodate her extraordinary demands.
And even if they should be prepared to
supply her deficiency, when “ want comes
upon her like an armed man,” as she is not
a regular customer, they are not prepared
to take her manufactures in payment for
•their corn, nor will they sell it to her on
credit. She must pay in gold, and the Bank
of England soon sees its bullion flowing to
the Continent to pay the balance of trade
—it immediately contracts its issues—calls
in its debts—refuses further loans:—a pres
sure in pecuniary matters ensues—manu
facturers, unable to obtain the loans neces
sary to carry on their business, fail and stop
work—operatives are thrown out of em
ployment, and the spirit of Chartism rises
up all over England threatening to ravage
and burn and devastate tlie country.
If the corn laws are productive of these
effects, is it not palpable that whatever de
ranges the market for our cotton necessarily
affects its price! Nay, so well are these
matters now understood, and so close and
intimate is the connection between the oper
ation of the corn laws and the State of our
cotton market in England, that we can tell
from the state of the weather during harvest
time*in Great Britain, whether in the com
ing winter the demand for cotton will be
brisk or dull. A continuance of wet weath
er in the month of August sufficiently long
to destroy or materially injure, the grain
crop, is almost as fatal to the prospects of
the cotton planter as arc the ravages of the
army worm.
I promised in the last place to show why
tlie people of Great Britain in their recent
election have determined against altering a
system which operates thus injuriously up
on them. This I shall do in a few words,
and bring this tedious, and I fear, uninter
esting lecture to a close. I answer the ques
tion propounded by saying it is owing to the
inequality of the different constituencies,
and the preponderance of the landed inter
est. Manchester with her three hundred
thousand inhabitants, has two representa
tives in Parliament—the little town of Har
wich with 195 electors has the same. The
House of Lords is composed of the Aris
tocracy who own large landed estates. The
House of Commons is also composed of
men who represent the landed interest.—
The farmers of Great Britain are not own
ers of the soil they cultivate, but are tenants
of the lords and noblemen who own the
land. Hence, when the proprietors of
these large estates nominate candidates for
Parliament to represent the boroughs in
which their estates are situated, the tenants,
in order to please their landlord, and from
fear of losing their lease, vote for his nomi
nee, and thus it is, that members in the
House of Lords, have, in the House of
Commons, members subservient to their
will—and thus it is, that the landed inteiest
in both Houses preponderates. Now, the
corn laws were enacted expressly with the
view to increase the profits of agriculture—
they are not intended for, nor can they ever
yield much revenue to the Government.—
The duties are so high as to prohibit all im
portation, until the price of corn reaches
that point at which very little revenue can
be collected from it. Nor are they any
essential benefit to the cultivators of the
soil. They do indeed enhance the price of
the productions of tho soil, but this increase
of price goes into the pockets of landlords,
for it is an invariable rule, that tlie higher
the pried of corn, the higher rent is paid by
tenants —their main tendency then is, to
swell the rents and incomes of land holders,
and to take from the hard earnings of con
sumers to fill the pockets of the aristocracy,
who are the owners, but not the cultivators
of the soil. Hence, as the power of enact
ing and altering the laws, is in the hands of
the landed interest, no material modification
of the corn laws may be expected until pa
triotism shall predominate over self-interest,
or until the people shall rise in their majes
ty and claim that equality of rights and pri
vileges which the God of Nature intended
they should possess.
THE MARINER’S BARK.
My pnllant baik ! long may she plough the deep,
To brave the winds and ebbing tide.
And whirlwind storms, that o’er the tropics sweep,
With aught of danger there besidfc.
I do remember* as I pac’d her deck,
A league Os two from Cuba’s strand,
Iu the horizon to have seen a speck,
Nor seem’d it larger than my hand.
Soon it had spread the sky with pall as black
As moonless night; save when the gleam
Os lightning, a= it mark’d its vivid track,
Came to blind the eye with its beam.
And we had perished, but that God with there
To keep us from a wat’rv grave ;
And thus our bark is ever in Ills care,
WUo never has refus’d to save.
Again she spreads her canvass to the gale,
And northern seas reflect her form—
Where oft is heard the mariner’s loud wail,
With the howl of the arctic storm.
From thence our course was to my native shore,
And a voice was there to meet me ;
I told her that I’d -trust the sea no more,
If w ith her true love she’d greet me.
And though I’ve hid my gallant craft farewell,
She still is mistress of the sea ;
And now I never hear the rolling swell,
But on her decks 1 wish to be.
Madison, Georgia.
A COMPLAINT.
There is a wide spread complaint of the
hardness of the limes, It is on every man’s
tongue. The man of wealth as-well as he,
who has no wealth, complains. The mat*
oat of debt and the man involved complains.
The merchant complains. The professional
man complains. Yea, all rtien of all pur
suits complain. Why is this ? What is the
cause ? Day and night still succeed each
other—the seasons still keep their course, for
even now tlie winter has gone by and spring
with its soft winds, its gay flow ers, and its
green robe has come. No wasting pestilence
is abroad the land—lank and lean famine
dwells not amongst us. There is still bread
to the eater, and our physiol nature needs
nought, that may not r< be supplied.
What then is the cause? NoTOrcign force has
invaded our country. Peace is through all
its borders. The Constitution, which se
cures to us freedom of speech and of the
press, our religious and civil liberties, is still
unbroken. The broad panoply of the law,
protecting our rights and persons and things,
is still over us. What then is the cause i
Mind is unimpaired. The citadel of thought
has not been broken down, and reason is left
free to 4 combat error,’ and exert its ener
gies. The heart still dwells from the play of
its u fleet ions—its ennobling attributes are
uncrushed, and the sympathies and sensibili
ties of men arc not yet seared or blunted.
What then is the cause ? Shall 1 write it?
Shall it be printed ? Is it true that this w ail of
the multitude springs alone from the scarcity
of money ? Verily it is so—and yet, is it not
strange that whilst we have day and night,
seed time and harvest, health and strength,
food and raiment,''friendsand home—peace to
our country, constitutional and legal protec
tion, mind unimpaired, hearts warm and
bounding. Is it not strange that with all
these for our portion, the want of money alone
should extort such piteous lamentations from
the mass. Hard Times ! Why are they
hard ? Can money buy the unpurchaseable
privileges and comforts we now have ? Cal
culate one item in the account of your pre
sent enjoyments—measure its value in mo
ney if you can. Take one of the least—
your health ; what number of dollars would
compensate you for a ruined ’ constitution
and a bed of sickness ? Can you tell, com
plainer ? But money is scarce ! It is ? What
then ? Every thing else is plenty. Is money,
the grand instrument of human happiness ?
If it be, then personal, social and providen
tial blessings are of little worth, for these are
mainly above the reach of procurement by
money. Against this complaining for such
a cause , 1 COMPLAIN.
SABBATH SCHOOLS.
The great usefulness and importance of
Sabbath Schools is proved by the observation
of all who have remarked their influence
upon society, and the experience of all who
have been connected with them either as pu
pils or teachers. The education of the heart
is the real safeguard of our social and politi
cal rights; and the Sabbath School is, in our
opinion, more conducive to such a purpose
than any institution ever devised by human
wisdom. We speak of it as a civil institu
tion, and leave its religious character out of
the question. The lessons learned by tlie
pupil in the Sabbath School are of a charac
ter which fits him better for all the relations
of life, as well as the duties which lie owes to
himself. He studies the best code of morals
the world has ever had, and the temper, at
this early period, being pliant, teachable, and
uncorrupted by vicious indulgence, he carries
his lessons into practice, and habits of virtue
thus formed, will remain unchanged in mature
years. A thirst for knowledge is natural—as
natural, we think, as our appetite for food;
and it is very soon discovered in the young
mind, and may, by proper direction, lead to
results wliick may make the pupil a blessing
and ornament to his race. The peculiar re
lation of the teacher to his class, and the kind
of knowledge imparted are well suited to cuL
tivate this natural desire. There is beauty in
anew thought, which in a child awakens
emotions of delight, and the possession of
one idea creates a desire for mpre, which an
ordinary teacher might repress and discour
age, hut the Sabbath School teaoher lias too
much of the feeling of a friend to be dicta
torial, and the inquiries of his pupil ore never
met by n word of reproof or an impatient
frown. Knowledge, however, without wis
dom is at least of doubtful tendency, and tho
peculiar excellence of Sabbath School in
struction is, that both aro united. Tho