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—hundreds of thousands of human beings
fell by fire and sword—even the work of
conversion to the Christian faith was at- i
tempted by fire and sword. Behold then,
fellow-citizens, the difference resulting from
the operation of these two principles. Here
to-day on the summit of Bunker Hill, at
the foot of the Monument, behold the differ
ence! and F would wish that the thousands
assembled here could proclaim it in a voice
that would be heard all over the globe. Our
inheritance was of liberty —liberty secured
and regulated by law and enlightened and
ennobled by knowledge and religion. ‘I he
inheritance of South America was of pow
er—stroug, unrelenting, tyrannical military
power. And now look to the results which
have been developed by the operation of
these antagonist principles on the two ends
of the coritinent. I suppose that the Uni
ted-States may compose one-eighth or one
tenth part at most of the territory embraced
within the Spanish dominions of South
America. Yet in all that region, there is |
not probably at this moment more than one
or two millions of human beings of Euro-
pean color and blood; whilst here in the
Bth or 10th part of the same surface there I
are, thank God ! fourteen millions of intel- j
ligent, happy, and prosperous citizens of a
free State. But let me follow the principle
of this colonization somewhat farther. We
must look not only into its effects in a greater
or Ipss multiplication of men, but consider
its consequences in reference to civilization,
and the moral improvement and happiness
of mankind. Let me inquire what progress
was made in the true science of liberty and
knowledge of government, even in those
new republics which have grown up under
the shadow of the Spanish monarchy. 1
would not, on this occasion, willingly say
any thing discourteous of these govern
ments. They are yet on trial, and I wish
it may have a successful issue. But truth,
and a fidelity to the cause of true liberty,
from which 1 shall never falter, compel me
to say here, and in the face of the world,
that these new republics of South America
hatfe shewn themselves but too much dis
posed ter partake of die sentiments and pur
poses of that absolute monarchy from which
they have freed themselves. They are far
too for.d of military power. Standing ar
mies are the appropriate instruments of ar
bitraryand monarchical governments. They
are altogether out of place in the ordinary
administration of the affairs of republics.
Contrast, again, the difference as respects
the public provision for the education of the
children of the people. These fields are all
verdant, because they are tilled by the hands
of freemen—owneis of the soil. These
are they who render a State flourishing and
happy. They dread no serried lines or ex
acting armed forces. Order, and law, and
security universally prevail. ‘See the thou
sand ships that fill ourliarbors. Here is the
best home of industry. Every where, and
more than all, see in every human counten
ance, proof that the whole community is
made up of independent self-respecting men.
See the procession of thousands of our
youth; poured out from the Common Schools
—those nurseries of New England litera
ture and New England virtue—which have
ao long flourished amongst you. We may
look in vain for anything approaching to a
resemblance of this in any part of this
country, except that portion originally set
tled under the genial influence of civil and
religious liberty. Over us the genius of
liberty hovers with eye ever watchful, and
her eagle wing ever wide outspread. There
are few topics more inviting than the influ
ence of the new world on the old. The oc
casion forbids me entering upon it. Her
obligations to England for the arts —for lit
erature, and laws and manners —America
acknowledges, as she ought, with gratitude;
and the people of the United States; des
cendants of English Stock—acknowledge
also with filial regard, that under the cul
ture of such men as Hampden and Sidney,
and other assiduous friends, the seed of lib
erty first germinated, which now overshad
ows the whole land. But America has not
failed to make returns. If she had not can
celled the obligation, she has at least made
respectable advances to equality. And she
admits that as a nation, she has a high part
to act for the general advancement of human
interest and welfare. American mines have
filled the mints of Europe with precious
metals; and the markets of the oid world
have received t(ie richest products of her
climate. Birds and animals of beauty and
value have been added to European collec
tions; transplants from the transcendent
and uncounted treasures of our forests have
mingled their glories with the elms and
ashes, and classic oaks of England. But
who can estimate the amount of value of
the augmentation of the commerce of the
world that has resulted from America 1 Who
could imagine the shock to the Eastern
Continent if the Atlantic were no longer
traversable, or there were no longer Ameri
can productions or American markets.—
America exercises an influence and holds
out an example of still higher character, be
cause of a political nature. She has fur
nished proof of the fact that a population,
founded on equality—on the principle of
representation—is fully capable of fulfilling
all the purposes of government —that it is
practicable to elevate the masses of man
kind, to raise them to self-respect—to make
them competent to act in the great duty of
self-government. This she has shown can
be done by the diffusion of knowledge and
education. But, my friends, America has
done more. America has furnished Europe
and the world with the character of Wash
ington. And if our institutions had done
nothing else, they would have deserved the
respect of mankind. Washington—first in
war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of
his countrymen —Washington is still our
own. And the veneration and love enter
tained for him by the people of the United
States are proof that they are worthy of
auch a countryman. I would cheerfully put
the question to-day to the intelligent men of
all E urope —1 will say to the intelligent
men of the whole world—what character of
the century stands out in the relief of his
tory, most pure, most respectable, most sub
lime—and I doubt not, that by a suffrage
approaching to unanimity, the answer would
be Washington. The monument itself is
not au unfit emblem of Ids character, by its
uprightness, its solidity, its durability. liis
public virtues and public principles were as I
firm and fixed as the earth on which that |
stiucture rests —his personal motives as pure 1
as the serene Heavens, in which it is not an
adequate emblem. Towering farabove this
column that our hands have built, beheld
not by the citizens of a single city or a sin
gle State, but by all the families of man as
cends the colossal grandeui of the character
and life of Washington. In all its constitu
ent parts —in all its acts—in all its toils—
universal love and admiration, it is an Amer
ican production. Born upon our soil; of j
parents born upon our soil; never having i
for a single day had a sight of the old world; j
rcaicd amid our gigantic scenery ; instruct- I
ed according to the modes of the time in ]
the spare but wholesome elementary knowl- j
edge which the institutions of the country i
furnish for all the children of the people; |
brought up beneath and penetrated by the ‘
genial influence of American society; par
taking our great destiny of labor ; partaking j
and leading in that agency of our glory, the
War of Independence ; pai taking and lead- i
ing in that great victory of peace, the estab- j
lishment of tbe present Constitution ; be- j
hold him altogether an American. That
glorious life—
" Where inuliiludes of virtues passed along.
Each pressing foremost in the mighty throng—
Contented to be seen, t hen making room
For the multitudes which were to come” —
that life in all its purity ; in all its elevation;
in all its grandeur ; was the life of an Anter- !
ican citizen; 1 claim him—l claim Wash- I
ington—wholly for America ; and, amidst
the perils and darkened hours of the night; j
in the midst of the reproaches of enemies, |
and the misgivings of friends, I turn to that j
trariscendarit name for courage and for con- j
solution. To him who denies that ourtrans- j
atlantic liberty can be combined with law j
and order, and the security of property, i
and power and reputation ; to him who de- j
nies that our institutions can produce any j
exaltation of soul, or passion for true glory; i
to him who denies that America has contri
buted any thing to the stock of great lessons
and great examples ; to all those 1 reply by
pointing to the character of Washington.
It is time that 1 should draw this discourse
to a close. We have enjoyed the conscious
ness of present prosperity and happiness.
We have pleased ourselves with well found
ed hope of the future. Let us remember
as responsible beings that we have duties
and obligations resting upon us, correspond
ing to the blessings with which heaven has
favored us. And let us to the extent of our
power, with all the ability with which we
are gifted, exert ourselves to keep alive a
just tone of moral sentiment; to inspire re
gard for religion and morality; and a true
and generous love of liberty, regulated by
law, and enlightened by knowledge and
truth. Let us remember the great truth
that communities are responsible as well as
individuals; that without unspotted public
faith, fidelity, honor and truth, it is not in
the power of constitutions, forms of govern
ment, or all the machinery of law to give
dignity and respectability to any political
Stale. Let us hope, therefore, that we may
look forward not to a degraded but to an
improved and elevated future ; that when
we die, and our children shall all have been
consigned to the house appointed fur all liv
ing, there may he a zealous, and fervid love
of country and an equal fervid pride of
country, in the bosoms of all those who
shall bear our name, or inherit our blood !
and ages and ages hence w hen honored and
consecrated age shall lean upon the base of
that monument, and ingenious youth shall
throng around it, and it. shall speak to them’
of its object—its glory—arid the great events
which it was intended to signalize and to
perpetrate, then shall there arise an ejacula
tion from every faithful bieast— “Tiiank
Gon ! THAT 1 1 At.SO AM AN AMERICAN
Citizen !”
WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTION.
Mrs. Brewton.— The anecdote which I
am uow to relate shows from what trivial
circumstances peiserution often arose.—
Mrs. Brewton, (since Foster) one of the most
amiable and enlightened of the whig ladies,
was an inmate of Mrs. Motto’s family, at the
time of the destruction of her nouse. (Meet
ing with her shortly after the signing of the
preliminary articles of peace, at Philadelphia,
I inquired—“ How it had happened, that
she, a helpleas widow', without any charge
of improper conduct, has so far incurred the
enmity of the British Commanders as to
have been arrested without ceremony, and
hurried unprepared into exile.” She an
swered—“ That she knew no act of her’s
which had merited such ungentleniauly and
inhuman treatment.” Entering into conver
sation relative to the seige and surrender of
Fort Motte, she gave at once a clue to the
transaction. While the American foices
were at a distance, Major M’Flierson, the
commander of the post, suffered Mrs. Motte
and her family to remain, and an apartment
was allowed for their accommodation.—
But when the post at Thompson’s,but little
removed from him, was attacted and car
ried,anticipatingthe fate which awaited him,
immediate removal was not only advised,
but insisted on. At the moment of depart
ure Mrs. Brewton seeing a quiver of arrows,
which had been presented to Mr. Motte by
a favorite African,said to her friend, “ I will
take these with me, to prevent their destruc
tion by the soldiers.” With the quivfer in
her hands, she was passing the gate, when
Major M’Pherson, drawing forth a shaft,
and applying the point to his finger, said
“ what have you here, Mrs. Brewton.”—
“ For God’s sake, Major, he careful,” she
replied, “these arrows are poisoned.” The
ladies immediately passed on to the out
house, which they were now to inhabit. In
the seige which directly followed, when the
destruction of the bouse was determined
upon, and missiles eagerly sought for by
Lieutenant Colonel Lee, for conveying the
i fire to the shingles, these arrows being re
membered, were presented by Mrs. Motte,
with a wish for the happy accomplishment
of the end proposed. It was afierwtrds
known, that the first arrow missed its aim,
and fell at the feet of the Commandant, who
taking it up with strong expressions of an
ger, exclaimed, “ I thank you, Mrs. Brew
ton.” The second arrow took affect, and
set fire to the roof, when the brisk discharge
: ofa six pounder being maintained by Cap
OtDUVUIIBtBS! OMI 8<DIBIL& Akt H*
tain Finley, in the direction of the stare-case,
every effort to extinguish it proved fr uitless,
until, from the apprehension of tbe roof
falling in, the garrison were compelled to
surrender at discretion. General Greene
arriving soon after, paid to Mnjoi M’Plier
son tribute of applause due to his excellent
defence, declaring, “that such gallantry
could not fail to procure for him a high in
crease of reputation.” This compliment,
however, does not appear to have soothed
the moitified soldier, for, walking immedi
ately up to Mis. Brewton, he said, “ to you,
Madam, 1 owe this disgrace ; it would have
been more charitable to have allowed me to
perish by poison, than to be thus compelled
to surrender my post to the enemy.” This
speech alone, accounts for theenmity against
Mrs. Brewton ; but by the playfulness of a
lively disposition she had offended another
individual, whose clamours could only be
appeased by severe retribution. An Ensign
named Ainui, a Philadelphian by birth, who
had joined the British, made it his chief oc
cupation to provoke the ladies of the fami
ly by taunts ami invectives against their
countrymen. He particularly delighted to
bid them admire his piowess, while cutting
off'the heads of pine saplings, which accor
ding to the \\ him of the moment, he denom
inated Greene Mat if* Sumter, A v . Al
ter the surrender of the )x>st, Mrs. Brewton
contriving to join this youth, near the scene
of his former bravadoes, sportively request
ed that be woubf again treat her with an
exhibition of his talent in smiting the foe. —
‘ But valient Captain,” she aded, “where is
your sword? Such a hero as you would
only have yielded in death ! And where
are your resentments? Did 1 not see you
but a little time since, bow ing to earth be
fore the very man you have so often, in idea,
shortened by the head. Is Marion no more
to feel the power of your arm, nor Sumter
be compelled to bite tbe dust? Smother
youi anger, most ferocious Sir, and let the
generosity which you have experienced,
make you more merciful hereafter.” —
Doubtless t lie irony of this speech was treas
ured up in his memory, and was one cause
of the severity exorcised towards this lady.
Shortly after this Major Hyrne, appointed a
Commissioner to negotiate an exchange of
prisoners, being on his way to Charleston,
Mrs. Brewton, anxious to see her friends in
the garrison, obtained permission to accom
pany him. On entering the town she was
met by an officer, who anxiously inquiring
“ vvliat was tbe news in the country,” she re
plied, “ that all nature smiled, for every
tiling was Greene down to Monk’s Conner.”
Her Inn mot was not unnoticed ; an order
for immediate departure was issued, and,
escorted at a late hour beyond the gates, she
was direct to return no more. Oil the fol
lowing day, however, from caprice, or prob
ably to confine her influence to more nar
row bounds, she was recalled, and for a
lime was left without molestation. It waa
her lot however, perpetually to encounter
difficulties. An officer departing for the in
terior calling on her, politely offered to take
charge of her commands to hei friends. “I
should like to write,” replied Mis, Brewton,
“ but have no idea of having my letters
read at the head of Marion’s Brigade.”—
The officer departed, but within a few days
repeated his visit, to thank her, he as
serted, for the rapidity with which she
communicated the intelligence of his move
ments, as he had actually been taken by
Marion, and returned to town on parole.—
Nor is it improbable, that an incident still
more trivial, might have contributed to her
exile. The liveliness of Mrs. Brewton was
very fascinating, and the more liberal and
enlightened among the British, who met
with very little of wit or intellect, anxiously
sought her society. Walkingin Broad-steer,
in deep mourning, according to the fashion
of the Whig ladies, an English officer joined
her at the moment that a crape flounce was
accidentally torn from her dress. Shepicked
it up, and passing the house of John Rut
ledge, the absent Governor, then occupied
by Colonel Moncrief, she exclaimed,
“ where are you dearest Governor; surely
the magnanimous Britons will not deem it a
crime, if 1 cause your house as well as your
friends to mourn your absence.” Saying
this, she tied the crape to the front railing,
and departed. Whether her companion
mentioned the circumstance, or that her con
duct was observed by persons within, (which
is more probable,) it is certain that, in a few
hours after, she was arrested and sent off to
Philadelphia.
Mrs. Channing.—Shortly after the com
mencement of the war, the family of Dr.
Channing, then residing in England, removed
to France, and sailed in a stout and well
armed vessel for America. They had pro
ceeded but a little way, when they were at
tacked by a privateer. A fierce engage
ment ensued, during which Mrs. Charming
kept the deck,handing cartridges, aiding the
wounded, and exhorting the crew to resist
utitil death. Their fortitude, however, did
not correspond with the ardour of her wishes,
and the colours were struck. Seizing the
pistols and side arms of her husband, she
threw them into the sea, declaring that she
would rather die, than see him surrender
them to the enemy.
Mrs. Daniel llall.—Having obtained
permission to pay a visit to her mother on
John’s Island,‘was on the point of embark
ing, when an officer stepping forward, in
the most authoritative manner demanded the
key of her trunk, “ What do you expect to
find there ?” said the lady. “ I seek for
treason ,” was the reply. “You may save
yourself the trouble of seaicb, then,” said
Mrs. Hall—“ You may find a plenty of it at
mi) tongue's end.”
Mrs. Charles Elliott. —An officer,
distinguished by his inhumanity and con
stant oppression of the unfortunate, meeting
Mrs. Charles Elliott in a garden adorned
with a great variety of flowers, asked the
name of the Camomile, which appeared to
flourish with peculiar luxuriance. “The
Rebel Flower ,” she replied, “ Why was
that name given to it?” said the officer.—
“Because,” rejoined the lady, “it thrives
7nost when most trampled upon.”
Mits. Charles Pinckney. —To Mrs.
Pinckney, a British officer of rank once said
“ It is impossible not to admire the intrepid
firmness of the ladies of your country. Had
your men but half their resolution, tve might
give up the contest. America would be in
vincible.”
Mrs. Sarina Elliott. —So much were
the ladies attached to the whig interest ha
bituated lo injuries, and so resolute in sup
porting them, that they would jocosely speak
of misfourtunes, though at the moment se
verely suffering under their pressure. Mrs.
Sabina Elliott having witnessed the activity
of an officer, who had ordered the plunder
ing of her poultry house, finding an old mus
covy drake, which had escaped the geneial
search, still staying about the premises, had
him caught, and mounting a servant on
horseback, ordered him to follow and deliv
er the bird to the officer, with her compli
ments, as she concluded that in the hurry
ofdeparture, it had been left altogether bg
accident.
M4*-GBLL-A.MY
From the Charleston Mercury.
Lawyers — The Morality of Legal Prac
tice..—The worst insult ever put upon the
Profession of the Law, is expressed in the
follow ing passage from Archdeacon Paley’s
Chapter on “ Lies.” It is not surprising
when graveD ivinosand Philosophers, whose
works are the text books of our Schools, put
forth so lax a morality, as justified by Reli
gion, and dictated by Reason, that bad men
a plenty spring up to bring scorn upon an
honorablecalling by theii nefariouspractices.
Dr. Paley says:
“ There are falsehoods which are not Lies,
that is, which are not criminal, as—where
no one is deceived, which is the case in par
ables, fables, novels, jests, tales to create
mirth, ludicrous embellishments of a story,
where the declared design of a speaker is
not to inform, but to divert, compliments in
the subscription of a letter, a servants deny
ing his master, a prisoner pleading not guil
ty, and an Advocate asserting the justice, or
his belief of his client's cause. In such in
stances no confidence is destroyed, because
none was reposed ; no, promise to speak
the truth is violated, because none was giv
en or understood to be given.”
By this rule one lias only to lie himself
into such a notoriety for lying, as that he
can deceive nobody by what he says, and
the ha bit ceases to be criminal,—his violations
of truth become harmless falsehoods only—
for “no confidence is destroyed because
none was reposed !” By tbe same reason
ing we may bold a man has butio make him
self known as our inveterate and unscru
pulous thief, and his pilferings are reduced
on the moral scale of Ancient Pistol, manly
weakness—of “ conveying”—and he might
answer to one who complained of being
robbed of his pocket-book, “ You mistake
sir,—the tiling is no way criminal, for you
always knew I would take your pocket
book if you gave me a chance ; and there
fore, “ no confidence has been destroyed,
because none was reposed !” Lawyers can
never command the respect of mankind, if
their practices need such an apology as this.
For bring it to the test. When an Advo
cate rises to address a Jury, let the judge
stop him and first say, “ Gentlemen, you
are to understand that Mr. A. who is about
to plead this cause to you, believes not a
word himself of any thing to which he wall
try to persuade you !” Or suppose the Ad
vocate himself to open with—“ May it
please the Court and gentlemen of the Jury,
being hired to plead this cause, right or
wrong, you are to regard me as having not
a particle of faith in one statement of fact,
or proposition of Law 1 shall submit, but
only bent to dupe you, if I can!” Now
who would listen, but with deserved scorn,
to any man of whom or by whom such lan
guage could beusedin conducting a client’s
defence ; yet, it is what Dr. Paley says, all
Lawyers imply, when they open a case to
the solemn tribunals of public justice, and
by supposing which only he is able to free
them from the character ot “Liars.”
We say that a Lawyer has a moral right
to do and say for his client whatever that
client would have a moral right to do and
say for himself, was he his own Advocate ;
and that as no man has a right to lie for his
own benefit, neither can a Lawyer justly
sutler himself to bo brought to lie in his
stead. If an Advocate assert or imply to
the Court his belief of a single proposition
of fact or Law, which he does not believe,
to all intents — he lies-, for it is absurd to
pretend he does not mean to obtain confi
dence if he can. Prostitution of the body
is had enough, hut the prostitution of all
those glorious faculties of the mind, given to
“ the prudent and heavenly contemplation
of Justice and Equity”—to vindicate the
right, to defend the weak, to succor the op
pressed,—in the low pursuit of “ fat conten
tions and flowing fees;” and for those to
cog, and cavil, chicane, and cheat, —if there
is any thing for which contempt too deep
for utterance is due, —it is this ; —and Law
yers must expect that in exact proportion
as they lay themselves open to suspicion of
such dealings, will they sink in the estima
tion of all the upright portion of mankind.
We hold that the Lawyer has no more
right to convey by manner, than express by
words, what he does not believe, the great
Dr. Johnson to the contrary :
“ Boswell: But, sir, does not affecting
warmth, when you have no warmth, and
appearing to Vie clearly of one opinion when
you are in reality of another opinion, does
not surli dissimulation impair one’s honesty?
Is there not some danger, that a Lawyer
may put on the same mask in common life,
in the intercourse of his friends ?
Johnson: Who, no, sir! every body
ienmes you arc paid for affecting warmth for
your client, and it is therefore properly no
dissimulation ; the moment you come from
the Bar, you resume your usual behavior.
Sir ! a man will no 7nore carry the artifice
of the Bar into the common intercourse of
society, than a man who is paid for tumbling
on his hands, when he should walk on his
feet ?”
The Lawyer who adopts 6uch a theory
of morals, as lies at the root of Dr. John
son's reasoning, for his practical rule of life,
is pretty sure, we think, not only to be a
rogue, but to be thought one; —and Bos
well showed, by maintaining the opposite,
that he had,for once in his life,the best sense
of the two. Dissimulation, whether for our
self ea or others, is essentially base and cow-
ardly, and not more destructive to all true
manliness of character than certain to he
eventually unprofitable. Far more truly
wise and worthy of emulation was the ex
ample of the great Lord Hale, wlm says in
his “Contemplations”—“ I never used the
advantage of my elocution, either to main
tain a falsehood, or to abuse credulity into
a foolish opinion or persuasion. I never
used the advantage of elocution or rheto
ric to deceive people or cozen them into
anything. My heart always went along
vvitli my tongue, and if I used intensity of
speech upon any occasion, it was from con
viction in myself of the truth, necessity, use
fulness, and fitness of what I was persua
ded ; if my judgment was doubtful or un
certain, so was my speech: 1 never thought
my profession either necessitated a man to
use Ins eloquence by extenuations or aggra
vations, to make any thing appear worse or
better than it deserves, or could justify a
man in it; to prostitute my elocution or
rhetoric in such a way, I ever field to be
most basely mercenary, and that it teas below
the worth of man, much more of a Christian
to do so.”
jUg a © o m /a l
For the “Southern Miscellany.”
THE ATTACK OF THE CANTEENS.
The attack of the Canteens ! exclaims
the reader ; that sounds odd. I have heard
of the “ Battle of the Kegs” in tlie Revolu
tion, and the “Whiskey Insurrection,” and
they were odd enough afTaiis, hut I never
heard of an attac k by canteens, though I
have seen attacks made vj>on them. But
that is not what 1 mean, reader. 1 mean
what I say, “ the attack of the canteens.”
I have in my time witnessed several indi
vidual encounters between veteran drink
ers and their inveterate enemies, bottles,
jugs, and demijohns, in which the spirited
adversary was almost universally ttiuni
phant, but it lias also been my evil fortune
to witness an army of soldiers attacked in
the night by the uncorked furies of the can
teens, and it was this flightful display ofthe
powers of alcohol that first aroused my hos
tility, and determined me in my uncompro
mising opposition to it in every shape. But
I will explain.
It was perhaps five o’clock on a beautiful
afternoon in the month of April, 1830, that
the right wing of the Florida army, compos
ed principally of Georgia volunteers, and
regulars, under the immediate command of
Gen. Clinch, returned to their old encamp
ment in the vicinity of Fort Drane. It was
a joyful occasion to the volunteers. They
had been upon the march just one month,
during which time they had suffered all the
hardships and privations erf a rigorous cam
paign, and now they were once more quar
tered at “ Lang Syne,” the homestead of
their favorite General, from whence they
were shortly to march for their homes. At
the sugar house on Gen. Clinch’s plantation
were large quantities of rum and molasses.
The molasses was accessible to all, hut the
volunteers were only permitted to purchase
the rum by obtaining a written “ permit”
from their officers, and the overseer was
not permitted to serve it to the regulars un
der any circumstances. Thus it was only
through their negotiations with the vol
unteers that the regulars could obtain what
by most of them, was esteemed above price,
and for which they would barter the last
morsel of food.
Dollars had refused by them on the
march for a cup of coffee or a piece of bis
cuit, which the promise of a gill of rum on
the return of the army to Fort Drane had
readily’ purchased, and there was hardly a
man in the volunteer ranks hut had, during
the march to Tampa, contracted debts with
someone of them which were now to „be
squared up with rum,the only par currency
with their creditors.
As soon as the camp was formed, and the
troops dismissed from the ranks, the old
bluejackets were to he seen running about
the camp hunting up those upon whom they
had claims and dunning them for the gills,
half-pints and pints for which they had bar
gained, and by night-fall, peihaps ten or fif
teen gallons had been introduced into the
camp in the Canteens of the volunteers and
transferred, without the knowledge of the
officers, to the regulars. The camp-fires
were lighted, tattoo heat, guard mounted
and the volunteers, some of whom were to
march the next morning for I’icolati, were
busied preparing their rations for the march.
Such was tlie the sense of security enjoyed
by all, that the strict discipline of the camp
was hardly preserved ; groups were assem
bled round the fires singing songs, or indul
ging in boisterous mirth, ar.d one mess had
procured a violin and were giving vent to
their feelings and play to their legs in a re
gular “stag dance.” Intent on making
due provision for the morrow I was already
up to my elbows in a pan of dough, while
my friend, the long-leged doctor, was busi
ly engaged in cooking his coffee at the same
fire, and my file-leader, who was afflicted
with sore heels and other distressing “ ail
ments,” was commiserating his condition
in a most desponding tone, wishing all the
Indians to the mischief and himself at
home. The laugh and song came from ev
eny quarter; two thousand men were happy
in the enjoyment of security and repose af
ter an arduous march, and hut for the brist
ling bayonets and gleaming mnsket-harrels
that reflected the light of our blazing camp
fires, as they stood stacked upon the ground,
we would have passed as well for a very’
largo and rather rude party of pleasure,rus
ticating amid the beautiful scenery of Flor
ida, as for a camp of war-worn soldiers.
“ Thank God! the campaign’s over,”
said one who was electioneering for a slice
of the pone of wheat bread which I had
just placed upon the fire. “Wo won’t he
upt to meet any Indians on our march to Pi
colati, and I don’t care if we don’t, for I’ve
had just about glory enough to last mo the
balance of my days, with a little economy.”
“ Yes,” replied I, “ I think we’ve heard
the last yell, pnd the last rifle; and I agree
with you that we have all had glory enough
for any ordinary purpose, if we measure the
excess of that commodity by the deficit in
meat and bread.”
“ Well,” answered my friend, “ I shall
have an aversion to the report of a gun here
after forever. It used to sound quite pa-
triotic on Fourths of July, and such occa
sions, but since I’ve been accustomed to
hear guns with the consciousness that there
was a deadly bullet accompanying the re
port, there seems to he something so spite
ful and malicious in it that it puts me out of
humor whenever I hear one. That’s a fine
looking pone you have there.”
I saw his drift, and begun to glow unea
sy as he seated himself near the fire. jj e
was bent upon watching that hoc-cake till
it was done, and then he was equally bent
upon eating a piece of it.
I observed that there was a great ma
ny drunken regulars in camp to-night.
“ Yes,” said he, “ but you had better
turn it or it will burn.”
I was meditating in my mind how I
should divert his attention from my bread
when suddenly the whole camp was arous
ed by the rattling and uneven report of a
volley which was fired into it from a thicket
only a few yards distant from the line of
our picket.
My tormenter sprang to Lis feet, the doc
tor spilled his coffee in the fire, I scraped
the die from my wrists, my file-leader’s
heels were heeled in a minute, the drums
beat—“ to arms! to arms ! fall in ! fall
in !” was the cry, and in another minute
the line of battle was formed. Bang, bang,
hang, came the report of guns from the
thicket, in the hollow, and 1 distinctly saw
the blaze of the powder.
Consternation was in every face. AVhat
could it mean—could it be possible that
there were Indians there, right at Fort
Diane, where we had been hunting them in
vain for miles in every direction 1 Bang,
bang, went the guns. They are evidently
muskets, and the balls and grape-shot come
whizzing through the trees, hut in whose
hands could those muskets l e 1 The artil
lery was unlimbered, charged to the muz
zle, and pointed in the direction ofthe firing
—every man was in readiness to pour forth
the murderous volley. Another moment
and the blaze of a thousand muskets would
have illuminated the woods. But just then
a voice was heard, “ Come out here ! ther’s
logins out here.” A detail of the guard
W’as sent out to reconnoitre. The firing
continued, increased, and presuming that
the detail had been attacked a larger de
tachment, under a lieutenant, was sent out.
In the durkness of the night the two details
came in contact, and hut for a fortunate
word from one of the officers, the panics
would have fired on each other at only a
few paces distance from each other. All
this time the main body were in painful sus
pense. The irregular firing continued and
we could hear the officer of the last detail
calling out to those in the woods to stop
firing and come in, or they would he fired
upon.
My attention was called at this time to a
number of drunken regulars who were stag
gering about the volunteers,fires apparently
looking for plunder. Seeing one rather
too near to my pan of dough, and fearing ev
ery minute that he would step in it, I called to
him to he gone. As he took no notice of me,
I begged my file leader to hold my gun till
I drove him off. As l approached him I
discovered that he had my canteen in his
hand. I told him to put it down and he off,
to which lie replied, staggering up to me,
“ Oh, tlier’s Ingins out there, I’ll l:e and and
if there an’t.” I caught him by the hand,
shook my canteen out of his grasp, and told
him to leave ; hut perceiving that lie was
going in the direction of the camp-fires of
my own company again, I turned him round
and gave him a gentle push, with which
slight impetus he went reeling off'till he
came to the ground with great force, where
he lay until he was carried to the guard
tent.
By this time the details had captured the
stragglers in the woods, who had stolen out
past the picket in thcdark.and in theirdrunk
en madness commenced firing on the camp.
One of them fired his musket at the lieuten
ant in command of the guard bo close that
the powder burned the officer’s face.
Fortunately, no one was injured, though
several halls had taken effect in the camp.
When they had been secured and the troops
dismissed, the volunteers discovered nearly
all their canteens, some of which contained
rum, had been stolen by the regulars. The
company to which I belonged marched the
next morning, so that I never learned the
punishment that was visite'd upon the can
teen party, and whether the plan was to
have the troops formed, in order to enable
them to plunder the camp, or whether they
just obeyed the dictates of the demon alco
hol within them, I know not. But I was at
no loss in coming to the conclusion, that if
there had been no canteens of r uin in the
camp, there would have been no attack, no
wanton exposure of life. I had seen, in tho
regular army, numerous instances of tho
beastly degradation of tny species, which
had been wrought by that accursed vice,in
temperance —I knew many in those degra
ded ranks that had commenced the journey
of life with the brightest prospects, wita
wealth, talents, health, and honorable name,
who were now sunken to the level of the
brute, hut this was tho most fearful exhibi
tion of the dreaded evils of intemperance,
and from that hour I resolved to touch not,
taste not the accursed cup. F.
Madison, June 25th, 1843.
Communicated.
* LAUDABLE COMPETITION.
I believe it is generally understood that
the rates of freight on the Georgia Rail
Road are to be considerably reduced. It is
very material to Augusta, and to the stock
holders, and to the citizens of Madison, and,
more than all, to the community at large,
that not only the rates of freight, hut the
rates of passage fare also be very considci
ably reduced.
Goods and merchandise of all sorts, and
cotton too, will move to the Central Rail
Road from within a very few miles of Mad
ison if it is not done speedily.
The Charleston Rail Road Company have
lowered passage fate on that Road to five
dollars. Now, let the fare from Madison
to Augusta be about three dollars, and you
will see crowds going on the Road who
used to stay at home. Let a halo of Cotton
be carried down for one dollar, and Cotton
hauled upon (wagons to Augusta will be a
rare eight. Let a corresponding rate of