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was in the lock, which I noiselessly remov ed, anil looking through the key-hole, I dis covered five men whom T recognised to be doctors and students, who were about to _ make an examination of the body, which they had already removed from its coffin, and divested of its shroud. My course was soon determined. Giving a sudden kick against the door, I exclaimed in a feigned tone of voice— “ Touch it not!” In an instant the light was extinguished. “ Oh, Lord ! let me out!” exclaimed one. “ Hush-h-h,” was breathed in a low whis per, and aH was still. I was not a little vexed at the interrup tion to my plans, which their presence had occasioned, and I resolved to screen myself from detection, if possible, by frightening them from the premises; in order to do which, it became necessary fur me to as sume a character very much at variance with the nature of the business which had brought me to the spot. “ Oh, I’ve got you !” I exclaimed, “ and you are dead men, every mother’s son of you.” “ Let me out, let me out! groaned a ter rified student, “ I had nothing to do with it, sir.” “ I don’t care,” I replied, “ I was sent here to watch this vault, and I’m to get a hundred dollars for shooting any one who 1 catch trying to steal that corpse —and I’ll do it.” A brief pause eusued, during which 1 could overhear a suppressed whispering among the doctors. Then a firm voice ut tered in a louder tone — “Gentlemen, we must defend ourselves against this ruffian—look to your arms!” “ Oh ho !” I exclaimed, in a swaggering tone, “is that your game 1 Come on, then, you grave-robbin’ hyenas! Draw your thumb-lancets and rattle your pill-boxes; but you can't skeer this child. You’ll find me a six-gun battery, and ready for action.” A deep groan from within told the effect of this blustering speech. After another short pause, during vvliicli I could hear voices in low consultation, a voice from the tomb addt eased me in a rather more pacific strain: “ You certainly will not be so rash as to commit violence .upon unarmed men, when you must be aware that our only motive is the advancement of the medical science, and through it the good of the human species. We desired only to make an autoptical ex amination, and not to remove the body of ” “I don’t care ad—n for your medical science, nor your autopticals, nother,” I re plied, affecting a stupid obstinacy, “if you want to larn any thing as you don’t know, go and cut up dogs and cats, but don’t go about robbing people’s graves, and cutting up human creatures. But you’ve done your last job in that way now, for I’ll shoot every devil of you, and get a hundred dollars a head for it too. “ I’ll give you ten times that amount to let me off,” said the student. “ Will no consideration induce you to permit us to depart 1 We have not marred the corpse, and if you will say no more about it, you shall be well paid.” I was aware that 1 had them completely in my power —for I knew that if they fear ed my threats they dreaded exposure worse; and though 1 did not like the mercinary character I would be compelled to assume, yet it was necessary that l should make some such arrangement of the matter in order to screen myself. After some hesitation, I conceded to their own terms: which were, that they would put me in possession of ev ery thing they had of value about them, and even more if I required it, if 1 would per mit them to depart unmolested, and keep their secret from the public. Accordingly, I allowed them to pass out, one ata time,each depositing in my bat as lie passed, his wntcli, and such money as he had aboutlys person; which, to my surptise, 1 afterwards found to be no inconsiderable amount. I soon found myself once more alone in the grave-yard. To my great gra tification, I discovered that my designs had been rather assisted than embarrassed by the interruption to my original plan. I now had no occasion to mutilate the door with my crow-bar, as I was in possession of a key that would enable me to£ave the pre mises in such a manner as not to excite sus picion ot the vault having been opened ; and the coffin had been unscrewed and the corpse divested of its shroud and wind ing sheet, ready to receive the clothes 1 had brought for it. I entered the vault, taking care to secure the key, and lighting my lantern, commenc ed to perform the offices of the toilette for the corpse which had just been so uncere moniously stripped of its ghostly attire by the doctors. Having dressed the body in a full suit of my own clothes, and placed the coffin iu its proper position, 1 sallied forth with my substitute in my ai ms. On reach ing Ninth street, which 1 did with some dif ficulty, owing to the high wall over which I had to clamber. 1 paused to see that the coast was clear and to arrange my plan of proceeding. It was past one o’clock, and the street was as silent as the gloomy enclosure 1 had just left. Not a watchman was to be seen. Takingtlie corpse upon my back underneath my cloak, I directed my steps towards the Delaware. I had proceeded as far as the corner of Ninth and Lombard streets, and had turned down the latter towards the river, when, just as I was passing the gloomy en closure of the Pennsylvania Hospital, where there was no alley or court into which I might dodge, I heard the heavy boots of a watchman advancing to meet me. VV'hat was to bo done ? 1 could not pass without exciting his suspicion, nor could I outrun him with my burthen ; and to relinquish it there was only to insure detectiou. The watchman was fast approaching, and nearly in sight, when I hit upon the only expedi ent that appeared at all practicable. 1 sat the corpse upon its feet, hastily threw my cloak about its shoulders, and pulled my fur cap upon its head. It was cold and stiff, and stood erect with a little assistance. As the honest old.guardian of the night approach ed, i commenced an altercation, supplying my companion’s part of the dialogue in a feigned voice. After a little muttering, I broke out in a louder tone, as I supported the corpse with one hand against the fire plug bj which we were standing. “You’re a liar—you’re another—l’ll break your mouth—you’d better try it, you puppy— call me a puppy ? (here the foot-falls of the watchman became more rapid)—take that, you infernal scoundrel.” Then I affected several groans and grunts, and made as much noise as possible with my feet upon the pave ment. “ Stop dat! stop dat viten !” exclaimed the old watchman, hastily approaching. When he had almost reached tire spot, I relinquished my hold, and ran round the corner, leaving the corpse to confront the watchman. The stiffened body still stood nearly erect against tire fire-plug, muffled in my cloak and cap, when the old Dutchman grasped it by the collar, exclaiming— “ Ah ! you tarn rascal—you shall go mit me. Come, come, no pulling back, or I’ll break your heat.” - At that moment, the corpse, jostled from its equilibrium by the watchman’s ruileness, swung round to the opposite side of the plug against which it was leaning. As it fell,and the infuriated Dutchman thought was endeavoring to break away from his hold, he hit jt a severe rap over the head with his mace, which dislodged the cap, and revealed, by the pnle light of the expiring street-lamp, its ghostly features. “Oh, mine Got! mine Got! vat ish I done!” exclaimed the horror stricken Dutch man, as he broke away up the street, impel led by the awful conviction that lie had ei rhercaptured an evil spirit or killed a human being. I could not refrain a hearty laugh, for the first tirno in a month, as the fast receding sounds of the Dutchman’s well nailed boots died away in lire distance. 1 again shouldered the body and succeed ed in reaching one of the lower wood wharves without further interruption. Be fore committing the body to its new resting place, I sat down to recover my almost ex hausted breath, and to meditate upon the ad renturoo of ilio night. As I recurred to tire past, and the excitement of the moment gradually subsided, my mind again relapsed into 4s wonted gloom, and 1 would have tossed up “ beads and tails” with the corpse, to decide which should make the plunge. But my thirst for adventure, and a growing desire to see how my scheme would work, impelled me on to the completion of my ori ginal design ; and after depositing my cloak and cap upon the wharf, I plunged the body into the almost congealing water, and then directed my steps to a remote and retired part of the city, where I might, unobserved by my friends and acquaintances, await the issue. ( To be continued.) MQ,®(DIELILAMY- Matrimonial Maxims. —She who pro nounces “ obey” most audibly before the parson, will be most audible in making you obey afterwards. If you find your borne uncomfortable, do not try to make it better ; that is not your promise ; go out every night fur a week ; be sine to be in good humor when you come home, and before the week is over it will be either better or worse. If you are in business and cannot get your breakfast early enough, walk out with out saying a word ; breakfast as heartily as you can at a public bouse, and let the bills be sent home to your wife. If you would live comfortably, always whistle or laugh while your wife is scold in g\ If your wife gets into a passion, take yourself off without trying to pacify her ; a man, who exposes himself to a storm, gets pelted, while the storm is never shorter, or the less severe.— Boston Transcript. Fine Tones for the Girls. —The following is an extract from an act of the Scottish Parliament, passed in the reign of Queen Margaret, about the year 1288. “ It is a statut and ordainit that during the reine of hir maist blissit Magestie, ilk maid en ladye of baith highe and lowe estate shall hac liberty to bespeak ye man she likes ; al beit gif be refuses to take hir to be his wif, he shall be niulcit in ye sume of nne hun dredth pundis or less, as bis estait moi Ije, except and gif be can make it appeare that he is betrothit to ane ither woman, that then he shall be free.” Georgia Flour. —The people of this State have been so longdependent upon the North, not only for their gloves, shoes and breech es, but for the “ staff of life” itself, that the present generation have almost become to think it impossible to live without her— hence, the reason why Northern merchants and manufacturers acquire such princely for tunes, and why their agents 1n these parts, are able to live in the extravagant style they do, making two or three Northern trips a year (sometimes with their families) visiting Niagara, and Saratoga, and all the other fashionable and money-absorbing places in that hemisphere; these degenerated sons and daughters of the hardy 76ers, turn up their noses at Georgia corn bread—or bis cuit made of Georgia flour. Nothing but Canal flour, with the expense of 1,500 miles of freight attached to it, can satisfy their delicate appetites. Thus, thousands and hundreds of thousands of dollars arc drained away from us to pamper the Northern mer chants, millers arid farmers, while our own agricultural interests are languishing in ne glect. It is time there was a change in this thing. Within a few years an immense sum has been invested in the erection of Flour mills in the State of Geoi gia. As there can be no wheat in the world superior to our own, with good mills and careful manufac turers, what is to prevent Georgia flour from being equal to .the best Genesee?— Nothing at all! IF? pronounce it better— and we challenge any patriotic Georgian to contradict us. We had long ago become a telotaller in respect to Norther —hav ing pledged ourself to “touch not, taste not, handle not” the unwholesome tiling—and we intend to persevere—especially so long as we can get Georgia flour, of a richer fla vor, of equal fineness, at a less price. While we are now writing, we have be- 3 <DIO 3J m it A fore us a beautiful specimen from the mill of I. P. Henderson, Esq. of Newton County, equal in sweetness, fineness, and richness to any flour in the world. If our merchants will persist in bringing flour here from the North, wheuGeorgia flour is so plenty, good and cheap, as at present —taxing us, not on ly with the freight, but an exhorbitant ex change—we shan’t care much if it sours on their hands,or leaves their “cake all dough.” —Macon Telegraph. When a man of sense—no matter how humble his origin, or degraded his occupa tion may appear in the eyes of the vain and foppish—is treated with contempt, lie will not soon forget it; but will put forth all the energies of his mind to rise above those who thus look down in scorn upon him. By shunning the nrecl a.lie we exert an influ ence derogatory to honest labor, and make it unfashionable for young men to learn trades or labor for a support. Did our young women realize that fur all their pa rents possess, they are indebted to the me chanic, it would be their desire to elevate him and encourage his visits to their society, while they would treat with scorn the lazy, the fashionable, the sponger, and the well dressed pauper. On looking back a very few years, our most fastidious ladies can trace their genealogy from some humble mechanics, who perhaps in their day were sneered at by the proud and foolish, while tlielr grandmothers gladly received them to their bosoms. — John Neal. For the “ Southern Miscellany.” A NIGHT IN THE CARS. BY THE AUTHOR OF “GEORGIA SCENES, IN CIDENTS,” ETC. At fifty minutes after five o’clock, P. M., I took my seat in the cars at Augusta, for Madison. In less than ten minutes some thirty or forty persons, including both sexes, did the like. Among the rest was a portly, well dressed gentleman, his wife, and his daughter. All I knew of the first was. that he was a Major, and this I learned from hearing a gentleman bid him farewell, by that title. It was easy to discover that the elderly lady was his wife, from his deport ment to her; and still more easy to discover that the younger was their daughter, by the same course of reasoning. They called her Catharine; and the mother looked as if she thought Catharine pretty —and I thought so too. She might well have passed for a Greensboro’ lassie of-1817. Certainly the daughter did not get her beauty by inheri tance ; for the parents were both far from being handsome. The Major was a prodigi ously large man, though be was not encum bered with flesh ; and, large as he was, his features were disproportionately large to his frame. His nose, which terminated in a “ pretty pcert” (as we say in Georgia) Irish potato, would not, I am sure, have weighed less than a quarter of a pound. His lips were thick and protruding, and so was his chin. Making my own height a gague, I should say that he would have stood six feet two in his stockings. A few remarks that he made to his wife and daughter, soon after entering the car, convinced me that he was an intelligent, amiable and dignified man ; for though there was nothing in them but what might be beard from any husband and father, under like cir cumstances, yet the tone, cadence, emphasis and countenance with which they were de livered, all bespoke the accomplished gen tleman. I judge of character, moral and in tellectual, from the first sentence that I hear a stranger utter —and I am not often deceiv ed. I took up the idea that the Major had been, was, or would be a Kentucky Gover nor. As we had to travel all night, I knew that the Major would be compelled, before morn ing, to lay all his dignity at the feet of Som nus ; and I was curious to witness the sur render. Chance favored my desire, and threw the Major and myself face to face, and in adjoining seats. Mrs. Major was in all respects, a match for her husband, (judg ing as before,) except in stature. She was plump, genteel, dignified and ugly. Catharine seated herself with her back to me, or rather to my seat, for she occupying the forward of hers, and I the rearward end of mine, she was not immediately before me. The part of my seat, directly behind her, was soon taken by a very handsome young man—a stranger to me, but a Georgian I judged from his beauty. I saw Catharine look at him, and he at Catharine, as he entered the car—and I thought the glance he cast at her determined him to take a seat at my side. This brought him directly behind Catharine. “ How far is it from Augusta to Madison, sir ?” said she to me, soon after we got un der way. “ About a hundred miles, I believe,”* said I. “ A hundred and five miles,” said the young gentleman at my right. “ How far did you say, sir ]” said Catha rine, in the sweetest voice in the world, as she faced the young stranger. He repeated what he had said. She paus ed a moment, as if counting up the miles about which she knew nothing, gave her lips two pretty little tucks, ami a half smile, and then resumed her former position. She didn’t ask me the question in the same tone or with the same look that she assum ed when she put it to him. At precisely twenty-three minutes after eight, (for I looked at the watch,) Catharine bounced to the other extreme of her seat, (right before me,) took ofTlier bonnet, turn ed half round, rested her head on the side of the car, threw a lawn handkerchief over her face, and dropt to sleep right away. Her mother apologized for her, to her fa er, on the ground of her excessive fatigue and loss of sleep during her long travel.— The Major didn’t seem to hear it; but I did, and so did my right-hand man. In a little time the handkerchief fell off her face—of course—and there slept Cath arine in full view of the young stranger. “ Now, Kate,” thought I, “ that is down right wickedness, to go and spread out all your beauties right before tliis young gen tleman. You pretty vixen you, if he’d im press a kiss on that coral lip ofi yours he’d serve you right enough. I’m tempted to do it myself, old as I am. You are not asleep, I know you an’t, for I saw you peep then— there, you’re peeping again—l wish he’d sleep back at you, you little heart-breaker— he’s a match for you in all respects. What do you wish to get him in love with you for 1 Will you ever see him again ? Then what do you want to take his heart with you to Kentuck for ?” But all this is an undesign ed episode. The Major is my man. 1 de termined to see him drop to sleep, if I never saw another man sleep. Eight, nine, ten, and eleven rolled away before the Major surrendered the ten-thou sandth part of a scruple of his dignity to the drowsy god. At length, at about three-quar ters past eleven, the Major’s upper lids be came slightly pendant, and he rolled bis eyes slowly to the right and left as if looking for something that he didn’t care anything about. Then the corners of his mouth fell, and his tout ensemble was precisely that of one who has just taken an emetic. At this point the Major was extremely hard-favored. He now bowed bis head upon his gold-headed walk ing-stick, played a short tattoo on it, with his head, to the motion of the cars, and rose as bright as if he slept all night; looked sharp ly about, drew his hand briskly over his £ice, and gaped like the opening of a carpet-bag. But old Somnus soon at him again—and brought his chin upon his breast. Here his head rocked from side to side in great ma jesty, until Mrs. Major fetched him a lurch in the side in one of her own oscillations.— Up he rose again as before, and, for a mo ment, seemed as bright as a May morning. Mrs. Major now moved over to the opposite seat, and took a sort of spoon-fashion posi tion with Kate, who was, by this time, fast asleep, sure enough. She was hardly seat ed. before she was clean cone, and very lim ber and gelatinous in her motions. The Major soon began to give way again, and having placed his head in a coiner and ex tended his legs a little, he began to drink sleep with interest—but still with an eye to his dignity. Like one inhaling the nitrous oxid, the more he sucked the better it got, and the less regard he paid to externals.— Now, his body began to settle down, and the rest of his person to slip diagonally. This soon brought him to no other support than the os ceecygis, which, of course, soon rebel led against this abuse of its office, and he nestled sideways into his seat, slipping a3lie nestled, and obviously taking in sleep with greediness. In performing this evolution, in which the main body was extended as far as it could be, the nether extremities were drawn suddenly forward, brushing Mrs. Ma jor’s extremities rudely as they passed, and settling firmly against Miss Catharine’s, even to the crowding them ungracefully against her mother. The Major was now a figure four, and an ugly one at that—no, it was rather a horizontal capital N, or more accu rately still, something of a cross of an N up on an Z, thus : “ There,” thought I, “ my young friend, if that spectacle doesn’t cool your love, noth ing will; for if there’s an uglier man in the universal world than Major Kentuck, just at this time, or an uglier woman than his wife, or if there ever was another family on earth so forbiddingly mixed up this, then I have yet to see them.” The Major jrowned fright fully—Mrs. Major looked as if her olfacto ries were insulted by the sweet perfumes that exhaled from Kate, and even Catharine looked as if she was dreaming of the inqui sition—and I didn’t wonder at it, pressed as shfi was on all sides. But the young gen tierrfWh, I do not think looked at any but Kate, and never much below her cliin : it was reserved for me to be peeping over, and under, and round about, to see bow matters went on below the backs of the seats. It is due to myself, however, just here to remark, that I am rarely guilty of such rudeness, and that I was prompted to it, at this time, only by curiosity, to witness a contrast between Nature and Majesty in their mightiest ef forts. If a man, knowing that he has a whole night of travel before him, begins early in the evening to make preparation to catch what sleep he can, under circumstances so unfavorable, why I no more think of bestow ing particular observation upon him, than I do of following a stranger to bed ; but when I see a man, whom I either know or think, sets himself up as the champion of dignity, against nature, why then I feel myself at perfect liberty to witness tlie fight. What Nobleman in old England—the land of assu maey, as old B W used to say— would refuse to attend a prize-fight, and carefully record all its turns, and overturns ? But let us return to the Major. We left him “on the little figure,” but here he could not long remain. His neck and trochanter- Major raised a simultaneous rev.olt against it; he therefore rolled over lazily upon his back, lifted high his left leg—felt for a mo ment with it near the ceiling of the car, for something to put it on,and finding nothing, brought it down slowly upon the arm-railing, right at the middle joint, which, of course, let it fall pendant in the pass-way—while the other leg remained down among the family —1 didn’t see exactly where. In perform ing this evolution the Major’s vest came un buttoned—perhaps it was so before, but un observed by me; but no matter, it was so now, and it threw a most agreeable neglige over the whole man. Now, I wanted the skill and chisel of a Phideas. The rioht lea: soon got intimation that the left was comfort able, and moved up and joined it. At this moment tlie cars stopt for wood and water, and I found out that the Major was snoring upon the pitch of a bassoon, and with almost as great a variety of tone. He was respond ed to “ elegantly” by a fat man in the op posite seat. w “ I)em men snore ver’ much !” said a lit tle man at my back, who seemed to be the only one awake in the cars, except myself— for even my right-hand man had now fallen asleep. “ Yes, sir T ANARUS” said I softly, disposed to en courage bis remarks without wakins: the sleepers. “ Have you got no sleep to-night ?” “ Yes,” rejoined he ; “ I sleep some, till de cars stop —Humph! I have not hear such ver’ loud snore as dat in my life. I have not pleasure to hear somebody snore in dat way —’t is ver’ disagreeable.” Just here the fat man fetched a tremen dious abrupt snort and ceased, for a moment, both to snore and to breathe. “ Tank God, one dead !” said my new acquaintance; “and t’oder mosegone,” con tinued he, looking at the Major, who now breathed as if at the point of suffocation. “ Don’t wake them, my friend,” said I; “ let them get what sleep they can.” “ If one shall not wake t’oder, and he shall not wake himself, when he snore so loud, I tink I must make one noise ver’ grand, to wake dem—Humph, de lady is begin !” Here Mrs. Major began to cheep audibly. A titter from several whom I supposed a sleep, (and perhaps were, when we stopt,) was drowned in the noise of the starting en gine. Soon after 1 dropt to sleep myself; and so remained with but a dreamy idea of what passed afterwards until we reached Madison. When I awoke, the Major was just going to look after his baggage : Mrs. Major was looking at nothing : Kate was adjusting her hair, and looking at my right-hand man —he was looking at her—and so I left them, to go and look after my own baggage— which, by-the-vvay, I did not find ; for, while I was watching the Major, or asleep, my baggage, by mistake, had been put out at one of the stopping places. But I soon re covered it—for, in no land is there more honesty than in Georgia; on no Rail-Road is there kinder or more trust-worthy agents than on the Georgia Road ! © os a © o m ail„ For the “Southern Miscellany.” LINES TO A PRESSED VIOLET, FROM THE GRAVE OF AN EARLY FRIEND. BY D. A. CHITTENDEN. Beautiful flowret! thy home hatfi been, Not where the blooms of the garden spring To life, ’ncath the eye of Beauty—green, And fresh as her own imaginings : No ! thine was a home more hallowed and blest; Where the loved ones of earth have their dreamless rest! For thy form was seen and thy fragrance shed Above the grave of the early dead ! Beautiful flowret! I love to dwell Upon thy pressed and faded leaf; For sweet, tlio’ sad, is the tale you tell Os one, whose life was as fair and brief— Like lliine, her home was a quiet place— Like thine, her beauty had much grace — Like thee, she was plucked in life's vernal hour ; And her memory is kept as 1 keep thee, flower. Clinton, Connecticut. For the “ Southern Miscellany.” Mr. Editor —l have seen an article in your paper, beaded “ The perfection of Mind,” in which the writer makes an elab orate effort to establish tlie doctrine that the mind of man may and will be perfected here on earth, and contends that when this per fection takes place, man will no longer be tire victim of disease, nor under the destroy ing influence of the King of Terrors. He says, “ the brevity of man’s existence is the result of ignorance ;” yet lie acknowledges the longevity of the antediluvians, and as cribes it “ almost entirely to a more rigid adherence to the organic laws of the sys tem”—thus endeavoring to show that they had made more proficiency in knowledge than the present generation ; and heuce, their minds had approximated nearer per fection. Now, if this were the sole cause of their long life, surely the inhabitants of the old world must have been, not only a temperate, but must also have been an ex ceedingly wise people ; and, according to the briefness of the earthly existence of the present generation, the postdiluvians must since, up to the present time, have vastly deteriorated in relation to morals, wisdom and acquirements. “ Harrington” himself admits, however, the present generation to bo wiser than those that have preceded it, when he says, “ that each succeeding age, enriched by the researches of its predeces sors, commences atiew tire investigation of the universe and traverses the fairy fields of science.” How, then, can “ the brevity of our existence,” with tire least degree of jus. tice, be attributed to ignorance, or the lon gevity of the old world to their superior wis dom ? But he takes another position in support of his favorite theory. He says that “ death is eithei the result of ignorance or of a wan ton violation of the organic laws which ex perience has discovered;” and he introduces Combe’s opinion, “ that if men regulated their lives rigidly by the organic laws, their final destination would be caused by the slow and gradual wasting away.of the hu man frame.” Now, Dr. Combe only contends that pre mature death is the result jof a violation of these organic laws, and his reasons in sup port of this position are logical and conclu sive. But he has never been so chimerical as to advocate or even to suppose that wheft there was no violation of these laws that death would never occur. The natural in ference, therefore, deduced from “Harring ton’s” premises is, that mankind would live forever were they to observe strictly and never violate the organic laws of the human system ; but in advocating this “ fantastic fantasy ,” he should bear in mind that the fiat of the Almighty has gone forth—“ dust thou art and unto dust slialt thou return”— and this edict has never yet been abrogated; and we have no authority, nor the least sha dow of reason, for believing or even suppos ing that it ever will be, until subsequent to the second coming of Christ. He seems to suppose, however, that this law will be ab rogated “ when the millenial sun shall burst in dazzling splendor upon the world”—at which time every human being then on earth will be fully and completely absolved from its requirements. We have the authority of Holy Writ that subsequent to the millenium,Satan shall “be loosed a little season,” and during this brief period he will reign in the hearts of the un converted ; and now, in relation to death, must there be another law promulgated to the world ? or must the earth again tremble to this edict, now in full force, which we contend will continue till the end of time 1 We now come to the Utopian doctrine of “Perfectionism,” or as “Harrington” terms it, the “ Elixir of Life.” He says, during the millenium “ Christ will reign in every heart,” and, therefore, “at that time all men will be sinless Christians.” Christ reigns in the hearts of his real followers even now; yet Christians at tlie present day are not “ sinless,” for “ no man liveth and sinneth not.” “If we say we have no sin, we de ceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” If Christians are indeed per fectly “sinless” or if they are to become so whilst they so journ here below, they will be too pure to inhabit this contaminated earth. Christ has ever reigned in tire hearts of his true follow ers, or they could not have worshipped him acceptably ; and he has promised to contin ue this reign. It is not, then, conclusive tes timony, that because, forsooth, Christ reigns in the hearts of Christians, that they are therefore immaculate as the angels in heav en. Christianity will be the religion of sin ners during the millenial period as now, and there will probably be defects and sins in believers, and doubtless some unconverted persons, a short period of their lives at least, for men will be made Christians by regener ation, and not bom holy. Consequently they will be liable to natural evils, and even death itself; and although the prevalence of Chris tianity may doubtless lessen the quantity of natural evil, yet man will continue to fall before the destroying hand of death till “time shall be no longer.” EDGAR. Greene County, Georgia. For the “Southern Miscellany.” THE FALLING LEAF. It is a sad emblem of all earth’s loveliness: sporting its bright green for a Brief hour, and then exchanging its beauty for a fitter robe in which to die. Did tire falling leaf pre serve its green, we would think violence had been done to tear it from its parent tree; but when we see it gradually fade before it loses its bold, we are reconciled to the change—for why should it be left a sear and blighted thing to cling to the live bramjjr ? But some remain long after the time has passed when they should have fallen : so, there are hearts that have lost all their fresh ness—that weep but tears of grief—but still bold their place among their ‘friends, and when, at last, they leave them, the sorrow they create is softened by the reflection, that they were unhappyhere, and have left them but to seek a better abode. For the “ Southern Misctllany.” THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION AND REPUBLICAN LIBERTY. Mr. Editor —Seeing that you occupy neu tral ground with regard to party politics, I beg leave to be understood as lauding your preference. I cannot refrain, sir, from noticing some strong points of similarity between the his tory of the Christian Religion and of Repub lican Biberty; nor can I believe these points of resemblance, between the fate of truth in Religion and of truth in Politics,man’s chief terrestial, and tire summary of man’s celes tial good, to be entirely capricious and fan ciful. Both are sustained by principle, and would be annihilated by precedent or au thority; both flourish best in the same soil, and sympathize deeply in each others suc cess ; both have always inculcated the same contempt for human authority—the same regard for the poorer and humbler classes— tire same disregard for accidental distinc tions—tire same paramount authority of principle ; both have for their basis the law of benevolence ; both have borne the proach of being disorganizing and auarchi cal. Republicanism is the uncompromising en emy of a political aristocracy in all its forms, whether of property or of birth ; it will not allow that an inanimate possession, or a mere casually, should prescribe to beings of a ra tional and moral nature. It shows the same stern hostility to a hierarchy that Christian-- ity itself, when an unprejudiced ear is lent to its precepts, is most clearly understood to announce. A union of Church and State,