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CONSTANCE OF WERDENBERG,
OR
The Heroes of Switzerland.
A Dramatic Poem,
Written for the “Georgia Citizen,” by Mrs. C. L. Hentz.
PART lll.—Scene 1.
An Ante-Chamber.
ENTER ULRIG AND HILDA.
Ulric.— ls conscience ill at rest, that thus you wander
In the dark hour of ghosts ?
Hilda. —Judge mine by yours.
The lightening glar’d; I sought the tapers here.
Ulric. —Heard you no sound of footsteps in the liall ?
Hilda. —I thought I heard a hurrying tread behind,
But fear'd to listen. Ilark ! the night wind moans.
Ulric. —lt was the tread of human feet tliat I heard.
Hilda. —" What if the Count—
Ulric. —Name not the Count.
Oh! better were he dead, if still he lives—
(grasping her arm, violently)
Hilda, why came Lord Herman to the Castle ?
Why did she meet him yonder ? Tell me girl;
Hilda. —Hold your rude hand; oh, how the lightening glares!
Ulric. —l will not loose ray hold till you confess—
Hilda.—Gently, good Ulric, I will tell thee all.
Lord Herman lur’d ine, gave ine this bright ring,
To bear a secret letter to the Countess,
Who deem’d it written by her absent Lord-
Deceived, distracted— •
Ulric. —Then she’s still true. Oh, shame !
I see repentant tears upon your cheek,
O, I could curse you for your treachery ;
Hilda. —l’ve had such dreadful twinges of remorse—
Ulric. —To bed, to sleep. There take this taper, girl;
My eyes grow heavy, since my heart is lighten’d.
(exeunt.)
Scene 2.
* On the mountains—a thunder storm.
Enter Bertiiold.
Well, may’st thou darken your celestial light!
And veil thy pallid face, insulted moon !
Mourn, mourn her shame! betray’d! disgrac’d I
(throws himself on the ground. Thunder rolls)
Enter Er.m.
Bertiiold. ---Thou groaning cloud ! Is this thy dew ?
Or spray, dash’d by the laboring torrent ?
Tears! What tears, from eyes too proud to weep
For all their woes ! These should be drops of blood!
Erni. —What voiee disturbs this mountain solitude ?
Bertiiold. —(starting up) Mine, by my wrongs.
Are there no haunts but these ? Intruder, hence.
Erni—Free are our hills and paths ; bold are our hearts,
Stranger ! I sought thee not.
Bertiiold.— Well, leave me then.
I want no fellowship with man. Away.
Erni. —Thy words could rouse my anger, but despair
Masters thy better reason.
Bertiiold, —Ha ! despair!
Who told thee I am wretched ?
Erni. —'Tis despair, or tyranny alone, could drive a man
To seek these wilds, in storms and midnight gloom :
No mountaineer, when unknown perils wait,
Suffers the unwarn'd straiiger to confront them.
Bertiiold.—l ask not thee, for sympathy.
Erni.—The storm!
It darkens! wilt thou brave it here ?
Bertiiold.—l came to meet and battle with its power ;
I gladden as I see the tempest low’r.
Roll on. ye deep hosannahs of the sky •,
There’s music in your wrath. Here, here, dread Power—
Erni. —ls life so light of value, that thou dar’st
The lightening bolt of heaven ?
Bertiiold.—So burthensome, its weary weight,
I’m press'd, I’m crush’d beneath it.
Here, take tliis dagger, save from damning guilt
My suicidal hand.
Erni.— lf thou wouldst die
Pour out thy bosom's blood in freedom's cause ;
The holiest cause for which man ever bled.
Berthold.--- Say, who art thou, in peasant's garb, yet noble ?
Erni. —A peasant born ; yet oft with nobles mated.
Proud stranger, thou art one. Thy country ? speak!
Bertiiold. —From foreign lands I come. Ask me no more.
Helvetia is thy country. Is she wrong’d ?
Here is my hand ; my heart's blood pledg’d upon it, -
A free-libation offered at her shrine.
Erni. —(recoiling) Thy hand ’. The pledge is stain'd with
blood already!
Berthold.—Aye, so it is ; ‘tis my own life-blood.
Erni. —A ruffian blow !
Bertdoi.d. —No ? ’twas a broken shaft,
From iron-guarded wall. A sorry wound!
The bar gave way and pierced my unglov'd hand.
Art thou a man, and shrinkst thou thus from blood ?
Erni. — l will not shrink. Thy noble bearing speaks
A soul as noble. Honor is on thy brow.
Bertiiold.—Does despotism gall tliee ?
Erni. —Oh ! what words
Can speak how deep, liow bitter are the wrongs
Oppression's iron hand has heap’d upon us!
Our ancient rights are wrested from our grasp,
Our free-born necks are trampled iu the dust 5
The very air is loaded with the curses
‘Die goaded peasantry are breathing forth
On Austria’s despot Lord.
Berthold.—Forbid it, Heaven !
How can thy country, rich in sons like thee,
Stamp'd with nobility, by Nature’s hand.
Tamely sit down and brook such brutal outrage.
Shame on such woman's weakness ; shame on all— m
Erni. —Ha! sayst thou so ? Then know we will not brook
them.
We’ve sworn we will not—come to yonder cave,
And learn what Freedom’s outrag’d sons can dare.
Berthold. —Brave youth ! thy words are kindling. They
have wak'd
Ardours, I deem'd despair had quench’d forever.
I rush’d with desperate purpose to these wilds,
Driven to the verge of madness. Thou hast come,
Like a redeeming spirit, mid the storm,
And brought the wanderer baek to reason's goal.
Ask not my name and rank, the sounding blasts
May bear them far as their wild wings extend.
But when in these emancipated vales,
Rumour is busy o'er the stranger's relics.
Say, that thou found'st him, prostrate in despair,
A shatter'd wreck, the ruin of himself •,
And that thy hand the fallen pillar rais'd,
And plac'd it ‘ueatli young Freedom's glorious dome.
( jo unt.)
Scene 3.
Apartment in the Castle of Werdenberg.
CONSTANCE AND HILDA.
Constance. —Welcome, the morning light. It seems tochase
The dark impression of my feverish dream.
If such sad images of vision'd woe
Can haunt the sleep of innocence, how dread
Must be the agonies of slumbering guilt!
(Enter Ulric hastily, with a silver spear in his hand.)
Ulric.—Oh! Lady, see ! Know'st thou this silver token ?
Constance.—Know'st ? Thy master’s! Oh! foreboding heart,
• Where hast thou found this vestige of thy Lord ?
Ulric.—l found it, Lady, by liis coal-black steed !
Constance. —liis steed ?
Ulric. —The same tliat bore him to the chase,
Though spent and worn, I knew the gallant beast;
But where’s my noble master ?
Constance. —Where, great Heaven !
(enter a female servant, with a bloody handkerchief.)
Constance. —(shrieks) Tliat bloody handkerchief!
Servant. —l found it, Lady,
Within that very room. The threshhold's stain'd—
The marble portico is track’d with blood.
Ulric. —Look to your Lady, see, she sinks, she dies !
(Constance falls in Hilda’s arms.)
Ulric—Dear noble Lady, mourn not thus—
Constance. —Tokens of death!
Oh! murder’d husband, where’s thy bloody clay ?
Where the assassin liand that laid thee low ?
Why slept the sentry on his nightly watch ?
The guards ! Haste, Ulric, rouse them, search the woods,
Each path, the rocks, the streams—Speed, Ulric. speed—-
Omens of blood !my warning dreams (exit Ulric.)
prove true.
Visions of death were flitting round my couch,
Voices of woe and wrath came wailing in,
Mix'd with the deafening thunders, whose dread voice
Was strangely mingled with my troubled sleep.
Hilda.—Heard you no step, no sound ?
Constance. —No step, no sound.
’Tis mystery dark as night; night of horror!
Are all the vials of heaven's wrath pour’d down
On my devoted head ? Unhappy Constance,
111 was the star that o'er thy birth presided—
-111 was the hour thou gav'st thy virgin troth!
That fatal star must set in blood at last.
(Enter another attendant)
The Lord of Landenberg demands admittance.
Constance.—How soon the vulture hovprs round his prey.
(Enter Landenberg, and arpied attendants.)
Landenberg.—lmperious duty urg’d me to intrude
On Lady Constance at unfitting hour.
Constance.—l know thy duty. Is thy vengeance slak’d ?
}j\sr>KSßV.n.G.—Justice, not vengeance, has its duos to claim.
Berthold of Werdenberg is in these walls,
The terror of thine eye, confirms the truth
Os that which Rumour’s babbling tongue has told.
Constance.—Terror, Lord Berenger, I fear thee not,
‘A mightier power than thine has over-rul'd
The doom impos'd by thy unsparing hand 5
Go baek and on the marble where ye trod,
See the red signs of murder and of death.
These rowels tell of valllant ■knighthood slain ;
His steed stands still; no master near to guide.
Landenberg.—(turning imperiously to the attendants)
Speak ye who may. The Lady only raves.
; Hilda. —The Lady Constance is opprest with grief;
She deems her Lord has been most basely murder’d.
Landenberg. —Murder’d. Ha! ha!! a most inystcripus tale,
If spots of red are all the proofs you bring,
A bleeding pigeon may have left the stains.
A steed stands still, his master safely moor'd
And spurs are useless, in his Lady's chamber.
Constance.— lnsulting Lord ! These eyes have ne’er beheld
All that they weep, since that unhappy day
Which gave thy sou to death, and him to exile.
I once liad hop'd that time, which softens down
The mountain granite, might have melted thee ;
That generous pity might liave touch’d thy heart,
And with sublime oblivion of the past,
Have given the banish’d Berthold to my arms.
Landenberg.— \\ liat! he, the wretch, the murderer of iny
sou ?
Constance. —He was no murderer. False, most false the
charge 5
’Twas but in self-defence his arm was rais'd,—
liis soul unsullied with the tint of blood.
1 mourn'd tliy son, in manhood's flower laid low,
1 mourn'd in thee, a childless father’s grief;
But since I find thee pitiless, austere,
Deaf to the voice of sorrow, deaf to all
That justice, feeling, nature, love can plead,
I feel a heaven-born energy within me,
That bears my spirit high above the reach
Os all thy cruelty and scorn can dare.
Landenberg.—Beware, proud woman, I’m no love-sick boy
To be seduced by blandishments like thine.
Thou brav'st me now, but thou in dust shall rue
Thy insults to thy country's rightful Lord.
Constance.—Wert thou the Lord of empires, I'd not blench
At threats a vassal's tongue would sltame to use.
Is this a time for outrage ? Press’d with grief,
Unuttered horrors thickening round my head,
Am Ia mark for thy unmanly rage ?
Landenberg. —Woman! I but exact what justice claims ;
The Castle shall be search’d—its highest tower,
Its deepest moat—-hence, Rodolpli, speed thy task.
(exeunt Rodolpli and attendants.)
C&Nstanck. —Welcome the search ! e'en now I ny guards are
sent
To seek the lifeless victim of tliv wrath.
Laneenberg.—What proofs, wW* witnesses ol tlus same
murder !
Constance.—Too fatal witnesses. They voiceless speak.
Landenberg.—Thy slumbers must liave been most wondrous
deep.
For murder to have stalked so near unheard.
Constance.—'Twas noon of night ere I had press’d my couch,
And as it swept, the ragingof the storm,
Drown’d in its warfare, every fainter sound—
Landen’rg.—Well, to the prods’ this handkerchief most true;
This spur! his name and arms engraven here;
(gives them to an attendant.)
We must look deeper in this strange affair.
Constance.—Ye holy saints! for what am I reserv'd?
(Re-enter Rudolph and attendants.)
Rodolph.—My Lord! our search is vain.
Landenberg.—Rudolph—'tis well;
I leave awhile the Castle to thy guard;
These followers rang’d where most their duty calls.
Const.—My castle needs no guards, proud man, from tliee;
All guards are vain, when lawless power presides, [wrath.
Landenberg.—Thou, who defi’st my power, and brav'st my
wrath,
May tremble yet.
Constance.—Thou canst not wake my fear ;
Thou hast no power, but such as heaven imparts.
I know tliee capable of all that fear,
In its most hopeless agonies can dread.
That feeling never yet the surface mov’d
Os thy remorseless, indurated soul;
As soon the adamant would bend beneath
The weight of summer winds, as thou relent,
Thou man of fiery will and icy heart.
Thou may's! attack my liberty, my life ;
But my fair fame and innocence, a host
Os shielding angels watch. The gems of heaven
Cannot be- stain'd by tliy polluting breath.
Stay if thou wilt—l go to guard my child.
Oh ! nmy he live to avenge a mother's wrongs. (exit)
i Landenberg.—l'll not belie her words; her spirit yet
Shall break upon the rock so cold and hard,
’Gainst which her idle fury vainly dashes. <
Guards to your duty---Rodolph to your post.
On penalty of death; let no one leave
The Castle’s gates till I fresh summons send.
(exeunt Landenberg, Rodolph and guards)
Hilda.—(alone) Tliat fearful man ! what new disaster hangs
O’er these doom’d walls ? what mean his dreadful threats ?
Sad-fated dame ! I tremble at her grief;
Yet with what majesty she soars above
The wrongs and sorrows gathering round her head ;
But hark ! what clashing arms assail my ear ?
(noise as if someone contending with the guards without.)
Herman.—(speakingwitltottt) ‘<
Stay me who can ! woe, be to him who strives.
(Enter Herman.)
Hilda.—Oh ! enter not my Lord. I pray tliee come not
To bring new peril to this house of grief.
Herman.—Where is thy mistress? where the Lady Constance?
Hard by the gate fierce Landenberg I met,
Dark with portentous rage, and breathing ire.
Ulric has told me all—l swear to save her.
Haste, Hilda, haste. (exit Hilda.)
Herman. —I’ve sworn , but can I save?
I read upon his livid brow and lips
A history of unutterable wrath.
On her unshielded “head, he’ll ruthless pour
The foil’d revenge, the hoarded hate of years.
Berthold ! and is he fallen ? The wrong’d, the noble !
Hated for naught, but being lov’d too well,
liow strange a paradox the human heart !
In life I curs’d him—pity him in death.
Death is an awful monitor, whose voice,
If voice there be in everlasting silence,
Can quell the stormiest strife of mortal foes.
Constance may think me stain’d with this foul deed,
And shrink with double horror from my sight;
If so, she wrongs me; but there have been hours
When fiends have whispered to my secret soul,
If Berthold were not, Herman might be lov’d.
Enter Constance and Hilda.
Herman. —Wretch as I am— dishonor’d in thy sight,
Sunk in my own esteem, and lost in vow*,
The still rebuke of that one thriHing glance, i*
I would not merit for a thousand world*.
Constance.— And have I wrong'd thee ? Yes, it must be so,
For when 1 saw thee last, thy troubled eye,
the” ®S.©Si®IJL BISIIBH.
Darken'd with conscious guilt, avoided mine :
Shame sat upon thy brow, each look declar’d
Thee friend of virtue, though the slave of vice.
If thou liadstdone this deed, this nameless deed,
Thy gaze would never thus encounter mine.
Com'st thou to tell where life’s pale ruins lay ?
Herman. —Dark is to me the fate of him you mourn;
For thee I came, 0I1! rash, devoted Constance,
Thy hand has grasp'd the Austrian lion’s mane,
Regardless of the deadly fangs he bears.
Constance. —He cannot touch my life. He dare not slay.
Herman. — I heard his mutter'd curses — heard him swear
That Constance yet before his bar should stand,
To answer for the banish'd Bcrtholds life.
Constance.- -Thou her.rd’st him! (faintly) ‘Twas hut breath.
Herman. —(kneeling) Oh! Constance as a brother let me
plead!
Speed, speed tliy flight, the guards dare not resist,
Some far retreat.
Constance. —Constance will never fly —
What interposing shield could save her fame,
Endanger’d now from arrows still more venom’d—
Her husband slain—she with a lover fled.
No ! guilt may fly, but innocence secure,
Will breast the storm, even though it bows beneath it,
It knows the bolt that strikes, descends from heaven,
(re-enter Rodolph and guards, they approach Constance.)
Herman. —Vassals stand baek—approach not on your lives.
Rodolpii.— We but obey our master. He arrests
The Lady Constance ; guards have just arrived
To bear her prisoner to his Castle walls.
Herman. —Thft one who dares to lay his hand—
Constance. —Herman,
Forbear —I do command thy hand—forbear—
I yield-—no blood shall flow in my defence,
Herman, by all that’s holy, all that's dread ;
Put back tliy lifted arm.
Herman.— l’ll guard the pass, (rushes out.)
Constance.— Kind, faithful Hilda, grieve not. Bring my child.
(exit H.)
Rodolph. —These are our orders. Let the Lady leave
ller blooming plaything, or he'll find rough handling.
Constance.— Leave him ! my child ; man, man, than time
more ruthless!
Time spares the ivy, when the ruin falls.
(re-enter Hilda with the child.)
Constance.— l will not leave him. Death alone shall rend
This chord from my embracing arms.
The callous monster dare not, cannot mar
Heaven’s radiant image in tliat sinless face;
The soft appeals of those beseeehng eyes,
M ould tame the Lainmer-Geyer of the Alps.
Child.— Mother! lam afraid of that dark man.
Constance.— Fear not, my l><w ! tliy mother yet is near—
C laid of my love! rflj|iriug (,j* race
That once in bright ancestral honor bloom'd ;
No parent-stem thy blossom shall sustain,
(>r shelter from storm thy tender leaves ;
’Tis vain to struggle—l must yield to fate.
But oh ! may he who finds the dove a nest,
And feeds the lonely ravens when they cry,
The orphan’s Friend and Father ! guard iny child.
Child.— Dear mother !do not weep—thy tears fall down
And wet my cheek, as when the clouds drop rain.
Constance.— l leave tliee for a while : but we shall meet—
A little while, my love, we'll meet again.
Child.— Where shall we meet, sweet mother ? 111 the land—
Tile far-off land, where my dear father is ?
Constance.-— Yes, |>oor unconscious orphan ! iu a land
Beyond the mipillar’d arches of the sky,
Thy father waits our coming.
I’onoLrii. —Enough of this—
Constance. —ln mercy’s name forbear. This conflict o'er:
All other pangs are faint—one more embrace.
The sickness of the heart, which ushers in
The last farewell to all that gladdens earth,
With deadly chill comes o'er me. Bear him hence.’
(Hilda bears off the child.)
Now, despot! I can laugh your rage to scorn.
(Falls back with a convulsive laugh, while
tin- ili’ffrr lioi- lV*"n fliu kuc|u> j
POETRY.
EXTRACT FROM A LECTURE. *
HV T. 11. CIIIVERS, M. I).
All Nations, to a greater or less extent, have manifested a
i knowledge of the Beauties of Poetry. No person can be
i considered refined, who is ignorant of its beauties. He who
I is ignorant <>f the Beauties of Poetry, is also ignorant of that
most perfect mode by which the most civilized Nations on the
i earth express their ideas of freedom, lie that is destitute of
: the Pythian inspiration of Poetry, is ignorant of that most
polite language by which the soul expresses its respect for all
tliat is calculated to ennoble mankind. It was the spirit of
the Praxitilian Genius—that Incarnation of the Beautiful
j which fills the world with admiration. The pleasure derived
I from reading a Poem, compared with reading a work of
| Prose, is the same as that we derive from gazing at a Circle,
. the most beautiful of all tlic five elementary forms, when coin
pared with the right angle. Plato considered Poetry so far
superior to Prose, that he makes Socrates tell lon that, when
the Poet’s soul is plumed with the wings of song, he is in
spired ; there is a Divinity in him. He did not believe tliat
Poetry was the result of Art or Study, but the effect of the
dcseension of the Muse upon the soul. He believed that the
god had purposely deprived the Poet of all reason in order
that the people might see that he was inspired. All those
transcendent Picans which were so delightful to the Atheni
ens, were, thought by them to have been of heavenly, not of
aartlily, origin. The Poets of that day were looked upon as
the interpreter of Divinities : that is, that they were elected
to speak by the inspiration of the God.
True, Poetry is the spiritual food of the intellectual, not of
the animal love. It is the delight of the Venus Urania, not
of the Venus Pandemos. This beautiful Uranian Love is the
handmaiden of the Heavenly Uranian Muse. Thus it is that
the Uranian Venus presides over the intellectual Poetry.
As love is the most uniuersal feeling among mankind, that
which is calculated to pander for its gratification, is the most
universally received. The most heavenly blessings that ever
upon the soul of man, were the offspring of that
heaven-born angel, Love. see tliat Poetry is akin
to the loftiest attribute of the Deity. Love is the Hifrmon
zer of all the discordances of life. Poetry inspires Love.—
It is that crystal fountain which satisfies the immortal part
within the mortal.
There is within us a deathly desire to be ever present with
the minds of men. This divine feeling is the vouchsafement
of our deathless sympathies for humanity. This eternal de
sire—this immortal aspiration—is only the heavenward flight
of the soul towards the Haven of Eternal Rest. For what
is Time, but a portion of Eternity ? Tliat whiyli we call Tine
is only the little we know of Eternity. It was this deathless
—this immortal feeling, which inspired the souls of Sbaks
peare, Milton, Dante, Petrarch and Calderon to inscribe their
names upon the adamantine Pillars of Eternity in letters of
quenchless light. This inspiration—this eternal yearning—
is the greatest possible argument in favor their ever-to-be-ad
mired virtues. It is the consciousness of virtue of praise
worthy conduct, which inspires the soul to long for immortali
ty. It was this feeling which mode Aleestus die in the place
of Adinetus ; “ Achilles for the revenge of Pat roe] us ; and
Ccdrus for the kingdom of his posterity.” TJiat being in this
world who continually desires to live again, not only among
men, but in the Paradise of God, is divine—he ascends to
Heaven before he dies. The Poet ever seeks to perpetuate a
likeness of himself, not only in the minds of others, but in the
generations of himself or his children. The divine offsprings
of a Poet's mind are the children of his immortality. They
are the living, deathless pledges of -liis infinite affections for
the Beautiful in Natural Truth.
Poetry is the impassioned language of Pure Love. It is the
only melodious utterance of a mother’s deathless affections.
It is the only language through which we can describe our
grief for the early dead. It is the only language through
which my soul can tell of its sorrows for the loss of my Angel
Child—that blue-eyed Daughter of my Heart, “ who was the
loadstar of my life”—whose gentle spirit is now living in the
Holy Paradise of God! My sorrowing spirit, often in my
dreams, has hold devout communion with her in the infinite
ness of pure love. How often have I grasped her spirit
hand—embraced her tender lips with mine! liow often have
I longed for death, but pnly to be with her soul, whose pres
ence here on earth was all my joy—whose absence is the se
pulchre of all my hopes !
Poetry is the only language through which our souls can
express our own Ideal of human happiness. It is tliat di
vine talisman by which we can conceal the hidden mysteries
of the soul, and reveal to the raptured minds of others all
that we know of what is pure or innocent, or sublime, in the
boundless universe of things. It is that golden language by
which genius pleads for liberty at the iron gates of power.—
It is that possession which makes the poor man richer than
the king. The Poet would not exhange liis divine inheritance
that principle by which he holds communion with the Spir
it of the universe—for all the thrones on earth. It was the
angel-language of a chorus of the greatest minds that ever
adorned the renovated world. It was in the radiant garment
Poetry, that Homer, Virgil, Plato, Dante, Tasso, Ariosto, Pe
trach, Shakspcare, Milton, Spencer, Jonson, Byron, Shelly,
Calderon and Moore clothed their heavenly thoughts lor the
admiration of all succeeding ages. Like the Pleiades encir
cled by their own light in Heaven, they are now clad in the
garments of immortality, waltzing up and down the world to
teach the harmonies of truth to man. When they descend
ed from the Golden Ilills of Immortality in Heaven, they
were annotated by the hands of God as the High Priests of
the world.
[For the Georgia Citizen.]
Leaves from a Portfolio.
Leaf ii.
Beneficence. —How minute and imperceptible is the real
beneficence existing with man*'Hd ! Many, alas! too many,
assume the garb of activ. goodness apd pollute it for some
selfish purpose. Some persons too, v. ill advertise their good
ness (?) by having it “cried from the housetop:” but they
whose benevolence is active and unseen are they only who
enjoy the sweet returns of their munificence.
All Indian was once asked liis idea ofbenefioer.ee. lie
replied in their beatifully figurative manner, that it was the
unseen but fragrant odour of a flower which grows in that fair
hunting-ground (meaning Heaven) where he would go when
he died. The man whose heart is imbued with true beneficent
feeling is on an eminence, the possession of which is to be
more envied than the superfluous honors attending the wield
ing a kingly sceptre. Stephen Girard, whose name is inti
mately connected with Girard College, once performed an
act which will not be the less appreciated by being recited here.
. A drayman of Philadelphia, accidentally precipitated his horse
and dray from the pier into the water and lost them both.
As all the means by which he obtained a livelihood were lost,
he was overcome with sorrow. The charitable Girard hap
pened to pass where he was standing in grief, and inquired
liis misfortune. The Drayman told him the circumstance
and how liis family would suffer thereby. “Never mind,
my friend,” said Girard, “ but go with me and I will form a
plan whereby you may repair youself.” There was near by
the cargo of a vessel to be sold and Girard told him to bid so
much on the goods. The drayman’s bid was a very low one ;
ixnj tlici fepoculatnrtf were inucli amuMoJ .and lot goods be
knocked down at the drayman’s offer. “ Are you able to pay
for these goods?” asked the vender. Girard appeared and
said he would see'them paid for. By this the drayman was
worth as much as ever, and sold the speculators what they
wanted at a good profit. Girard also was repaid for his be
neficence, and made one family happy without loss to him
self. Let examples like his be imitated. SENECA.
I.eaf 111.
Contentiousness.— ls there ever exist*! a spirit, to which
the masses of mankind manifest a greater dislike than that of
contention, it will have yet to be learned. It has proved the
bane of many estimable associations, and even the thrice sacred
ties of matrimony and consanguinity have been severed
through its detestable and pernicious agencies, to reunite no
more. This sin has had many things said in relation to it,
and its fearful consequences but no remark is so veracious as
one contained in the Holy Writ, which says : “ A house di
vided against itself cannot- stand.”
Me have heard of husbands and wives separating—chil
dren deserting their parents friends blasting every''final
tie which once bound them as one, and all on account of
causes, if viewed rightly on their first appearance, would have
formed no tangible reason for contention. All reasonable and
contentious persons admit that nothing is more degrading to,
1 ill iL*-.L....t.. r ..f-. I~.lt n, it* to
a desire to contend about insignificant causes. Any parent or
any person who ever expects to become a parent, will have
done themselves and their inheritance and their associates an
invaluable benefit when they have thrown aside their coutor.-
j tious, b'ckering habits, and have adopted in their stead, the
| placid self-government that eminently elevates their useful
! ness and places them nearer that position their Maker designed
1 they should occupy.
The manners and customs of the world have materially
, changed in the {“resent century, and now no man is branded
as a coward, who is too humane to assist to take the life of a
! fellow being. Public and moral sentiment, as they should
be, are against it: and were it not for the fell spirit of con
tention, a spirit so brave as Decatur would not have been
prematurely torn from our midst. Most, if not all unwise
Contentions, have serious and unpleasant ends, without con
ferring any honor to either party: and their sable influen
ces spread a gloom where before all was sunshine, peace and
joy. We cannot close this leaf without requesting every one •
tortile their passions, for it is obvious they thereby increase
their joys on earth, and better lit themselves for eternity.
SENECA.
iformijjonkurf.
LETTER from AVTCIV9TA.
Augusta City, April 13, 1850.
Dear Doctor :—111 my last I had something to say about
two new churches to be built in the upper ward of our city;
one under the auspices of the Episcopal church, and the oth
er by the Presbyterian. And lam sure you will agree with
me in giving praise to such commendable efforts on behalf of
the up-town Heathen.
It would add much to the gratification of your numerous
readers, perhaps, to be made acquainted with the number and
character of the various denominations in our city. First, is
the Episcopal church, the oldest society in our city. As usual,
the congregation of this church co 4sts, principally, of the
most wealthy of our citizens, and is not so large as many of
the others. The exterior part of the building has an ancient
appearance, yet the interior would strike a stranger at first
glanee, as something very comfortable and pleasant, consider
ing its antiquity. The Rector, Rev. Dr. Ford, is a very ex
cellent doctrinal preacher, with little or no pretensions to ora
tory.
The Presbyterian Society is quite large and wealthy. They
hold their services in a large and handsome church sitnated
in a magnificent grove of water Oaks. They lia\e for their
Pastor the llov. Mr. Rodgers, a man of considerable talent.
The Methodist Society is perhaps the most numerous of all
the other denominations. They have a large but plain edifice
recently erected for holding public worship on the Sabbath
day. Their Pastor is the Rev. Mr. Evans.
Then we have the Baptist I which is the third
in point of number. Rev. Mr. Jeanette is their Pastor.
The Catholic Society have quite a neat church, built in the
form of a cross, under the care of the Very Rev. Mr. Barry.
Also the Oampbellite Church, known as Mrs. Tubman’s
church, she being the principal patron.
Thus you will perceive from the number of religious socie
ties, that we are, or ought to be, considerably advanced in mo
rality. Certain am I that a city, like an individual, cannot
attain greatness to any extent, unless it has goodness ior its
saving quality and its guide.
We have also numerous Sunday Schools for the instruction
of the young in the paths of religion. A humorous incident
happened in one of our Sunday schools, not long since. It
was in a class of little negroes under the care of Miss C .
A common question was asked in the Catechism, “ Who
made you?” He could not tell, and the question was an
swered by his teacher, but was told that she would ask him the
same question next Sunday, and not to forget the answer.—
The next Sunday came and the same question was asked him
by his teacher, Miss C . He replied, “ Misses, I done
forget the gemman's name /”
Our city is very quiet, just at present. The weather for the
past week has been unfavorable to out door transactions, or
business in the way of selling or receiving merchandize.
The new Mayor and members of Council have entered up
on their duties, and we hope they may be, in reality, the City
Fathers. Much depends upon a good City Government, for
the enactment of good and wholesome laws and their exvcu-
tion. With such a state of affairs there will be no lack of cap
ital or enterprise, for the advancement and building up of our
city. If the of Augusta do their duty in this work
of improvement, we may expect to rank very high with our
sister cities of the great State of Georgia.
Mr. Ilewlitt made his appearance here a few days since,
and has ereated quite an excitement among the temperance
folks. His Lectures were very interesting, and well attended,
not only by the Plebeians but by the Aristocracy. All, all
seemed vastly delighted to hear old Alchy denounced as thief,
murderer, and soul killer. Mr. Ilewlitt is certainly a Yen
excellent temperance lecturer and decrees great credit for
his indomitable perseverance in the cause—a cause which all
good men every where should aid and support. It will no
doubt be gratifying to the friends of Temperance in every
part of the State to know that Mr. 11. intends to remove his
family from the North to our State and become a citizen of
Georgia. W hen the principles of temperance shall have per
vaded the whole of our State The Georgia Citizen may well
be proud. Destroy the love of rum and you trill create a
love for knowledge. We all sliall'bc glad when King Alchy
shall be driren from the field.
I remain, respectfully, yours. RICHMOND.
LETTER from ATLANTA*
Atlanta, April 17, 1850.
Dear Doctor: —l was too much occupied last week, gath
ering facts preparatory to an expose of matters connected with
the State Railroad, to write you. lam not yet prepared to
make the expose; but will present it as soon as a few more
facts are elicited.
I have recently been much edified by listening to many an
imated discussions, between different gentlemen here, inwefer
cnce to the trial of Professor Webster for the alledged murder
of Dr. Parkinan, at Boston. There are those who believe
that the evidence by which the Professor was convicted is
clear and conclusive ; while others contend that the whole
trial was but a solemn mockery, and the verdict of the J ury
wholly unsustained by the testimony : in short, that the Pro
fessor has been made a martyr to the prejudices of an excit
ed populace and a sacrifice to cowardly counsel and au arbi
trary Judiciary! 1 laving been taught to presume all men in
nocent until they are proven guilty of crime, I am free to say
that 1 incline to the latter opinion.
I understand that the Commmittce (Messrs. Mark A. Coop
er, James A. Nisbct and Richard Peters) appointed at the
last annual meeting of the State Agricultuaal Society, have
accepted the proposition of our citizens, and agreed that the
ensuing annual meeting of the Society, and Fair, shall beheld
in this city. Unless Atlanta shall hereafter be settled upon
as the permanent place of meeting, l think a very silly ar
rangement has been made on the part of our Corporation,
who have, in addition to the sum of one thousand dollars in
cash, given the Society a beautifully situated piece of land
worth as much more. But 1 hope that the members and
visitors, at the next meeting will be well enough pleased with
their improvements and the accommodations here, to induce
them to vote down all propositions for another change of loca
tion.
On Saturday night last the Jail at Decatur was broken open
by a negro fellow therein confined, and all the prisoners (three
in number) effected their escape. One of the prisoners (Fan
ning, who was convicted a week or two since of involuntary
manslaughter, and sentenced to four months confinement in
the County Jail,) voluntarily returned next morning and sig
nified his willingness to serve out the remainder of his sen
| tence'. The others have not. as yet, been re-taken.
| Yesterday morning about 1 o’clock, the range of wooden
! builhings—four tenements—owned by A. \V. Wheat, andoc
j oupied by himself as a store and dwelling; also, by Messrs,
i Crayton, Boot-makers, as a shop and dwelling, and by Mr.
Jones as a Boarding House, were discovered, by the watch
man at the Macon fc Western Railroad Depot, to be on fire.
The whole range was burned to the ground, and the entire
stock of goods, furniture, tools and clothing of the occupants,
together with a fine Buggy, belonging to Mr. G. M. T. Per
ryman, which was stored in the basement, consumed. I learn
\ that the buildings and Mr. Wheat’s stock were partially cov
! ered by insurance in the Southern Mutual Company. IPs
l'iw I-, jirotinMy.Bhnn .-*.1.000 that or the Messrs. Ornvton
! and Mr. Jones between S2OO and 300 each. About three
hours after, the Warehouse of John F. Mims, Ksq. was dis
covered to be a fire: and about an hour later it was ascertain
ed that the Cotton in the Warehouse of Maj. Z. A. Rice was
: also afire. These two last fires wore extinguished with but
trfling damage to the buildings. Damage to Cotton about
SSOO or 8000. No insurance. While the fire was raging in
Mr. Mini’s Warehouse, the office of the Georgia Railroad
j i >epot was entered through a window, and the money-drawer
forced and robbed of about $75 in small bills aud change.—
The drawer was afterward found under a car, near the Depot.
Circumstances have recently developed one of the most ex
tensive, well-planned pieces of rascality that has ever been
brought to light. It appears that several white persons in this
city have, for some months past, been leagued with various ne
groes for the purpose of stealing goods from the different Rail
roads, and si lling them. A large amount of goods found on
the premises of Messrs. J. W. Demby and John J. Mulky have
been identified by Mr. Orme, Agent of the Georgia Railroad
Company,asgoods stolen from tliat Depot. Mulky.a man nam
ed Collins, and some negroes employed at the different Depots,
have been arrested ; and a posse have gone in pursuit of Dem
by who left here on Monday last with a wagon-load of the sto
len goods (embracing a great variety) for Campbe’.ltou, w here,
I understand, be has been running them off at public outcry.
If lie should be brought back, and the examination had, in
time for a report to reach you before your paper goes to press,
I will advise you of the result. Demby, Collins and Mulky.
who seem to be the ringleaders in this business, are Jewellers,
and have heretofore stood fair in the community. Many oth
er developments of a startling cliaracter have been made in
connection witli this transaction, but I have not time to detail
them now. la>ok out for a full account hereafter!
The various Passeug* r trains have usually performed their
trips, during the past two weeks, within their schedule hours.
The Freight trains on the State Road have not been so fortu
ate. On the sth instant, the up train ran oft’ and broke one ear,
two ears were broken on the 6th, by tl>e down train, and two
more were broken by the down train on the Bth.
Yours truly, GABRIEL.
LETTERS from GRIFFIA, On.
Griffis, Ga., April 15th, 1850.
Mr. Editor:— l see on my arrival home the 2d and 3d
Nos. of the Citizen, in which I find that you have taken what
I believe is the correct view relative to the Nashville Conven
tion. Sir, I was at a public meeting in Tallahassee, in which
there was much debate and discussion on this subject. Gov.’
Brown, of Florida, speaks mueli to my mind on that subject,
in his answer to the members of Congress from that State;
and, the truth is, I find that nlufge majority of the people arc
opposed to such convention at this time. And admitting,
say some of them, that the call for such convention was ne
cessary when made, it does not follow that it will under the
present circumstances be necessary; and especially when it is
believed, by many, if not all of us, that, that the vexatious ques
tion of slavery will be settled by the present Congress to the
satisfaction of all whom it may concern. If this {Kisition be
correct, admitting thatthe convention should no no harm, it is
clear that it cannot possibly do any go<id. The money of the
country and -time of the members to this far fumed projected
Southern Convention, it seems to me, might be n. >re pru
dently disposed of, than to be thus wantonly thrown away.
Do any of our learned advocates of this convention, tell us
what the members are to do when they meet ? Will they
speak out ? P. B. C.
COTTON CROP.
Griffin, Ga., April 15, 1850.
Mr. Fuitor It may be of some use to the readers of the
Citizen, to know, that a large quantity of the Cotton ci<*p of
1848 was held back by the farmers, and disposed of along
with the crop of 1549; and that the crop of 1849, with that
addition, has been put into market, leaving none of that crop
to bo sold with the crop of 1850. I have travelled all of 600
miles, lately, mostly through a cotton region, and have not
seen fifty bales of cotton lying about the gin-houses. In addi
tion hi this, the backwardness of the season and the severity
of the frost in some places, will, no doubt, have the effect to
considerably lessen the crop of 1850. Corn and Cotton have
been killed, in some places, from middle Georgia to Ocloek
ncy Bay, making the crop on the Gulf as late as in middle
Georgia. I mention this as an argument to prove tliat the
crop of 1850 will demand a fair price.
I am, dear Sir, your friend,
P. B. COX.
From the New York Journal Commerce.
LATEST FROAI CALIFORNIA.
*2,342,000' 17 G01d Dust.
The steamer Cherokee, of Howland & AspinwalTs line,
from Chagres, evening of March 26th, arrived at New York
on Friday, sth inst.
She brought gold on freight to the value of 1,053,471.
The steamer Empire City, Capt. John Tanner, arrived Fri
day evening from Chagres, bringing 153 passengers ir whose
• hands is a very large amount of gold dust, estimated at near
a million of dollars.
Intelligence from San Francisco, was received at Panama
by the steamer Oregon, to the evening of March Ist.
The Pacific Mail steamer Oregon, Capt. Patterson, sailed
from San Francisco on the evening of the Ist March, and ar
rived at Panama on the 20th.
She brought to Panama 262 passengers, and $1 ,343,602 on
freight, principally in gold dust, and at least $1,000,000 in
possession of the passengers.
The Sarah Sands had not arrived at Panama ; but was en
tering the harbor of Valparaiso as the Tennessee left it,
Feb. 26th.
Mr. W. A. Bayley also brings despatches from Mr. Van
Allen, Charge des Affaires at Ecuador, to the Secretary of
State, announcing a revolution in tliat country, and the ap
pointmenf of a Dictator.
She brings one month’s later dates, and her mail, under
the charge of Mr.W. A. Bayley, U. S. M. Agent, is the largest
yet brought from California—consisting of some 26,000 let
ters and a large quantity of newspapers.
The U. S. sloop-of-war Falmouth, Capt. Pettigrew, was at
Mazatlan on the Oth March, tc sail on a cruise in A few days.
Midshipman Tabb. attached to the F., was murdered, whilst
on shore, a few evenings previous, in company with some of
ficers from the ship ; by whom, it could not be discovered.
One of the passengers by the Oregon, brought down with
him a lump of gold for which he was offered S4OOO. The for
tunate finder of this lump had toiled without success for seve
ral months, when he was thus amply rewarded for his exer
tions.
The quantity of gold dust in the hands of the minors is
large ; and they wore taking advantage of the improvement
in the weather, to bring it down to San Francisco. The suc
ceeding steamers, it is expected, will bring larger amounts
than have yet been sent to the United States.
It was quite liealthly at San Francisco and Sacramento City,
and as the mud was fast’drying up, things were assuming a
very active appearance.
The steamers on the rivers were doing a very profitable
business—the Senator’s passage and freight list, to and from
Sacramento City, amounting at times to $15,000, and occu
pying bit two days. Coal was worth about SBO per ton.—
Price of passage, $25 : distance, 130 miles.
Lumber of all kind was arriving in large quantities, and
prices bad materially declined in consequence. Good lumber
could be procured at SBS per M., and forced sales had been
made still lower.
A proposition made by the State of Deseret, to amalgamate
with California, and form anew State, by the union of the
two, was promptly laid on the table by the Legislature of Cal
ifornia.
The Legislature of our new Stau: are toiling with hot in
different success. Tlius far not much of importance has
I>een done, and the work which has been accomplished has in
most instances originated in the House. Resignations have
been frequent, at which both branches, in a concurrent ad
dress to the people ot this State, have expressed their displea
sure. Great uneasiness exists on account of the dull finan
cial prospects of the State Government. An aet creating a
temporary loan passed aft. r much debate.
The mines are every day more and more talked alxnit
This is an unmistakeable indication of the mighty muster go
ing on in every part of the country south of the Placer. The
; “floating population’’ is gradually drawing off and digging
implements arc taken up again with stern intent and high
raised hopes. All, to speak comparatively. are preparing for
the mines, whence great stories of marvelous luck are waft, and
hitherward with every breath from the gold region. Those
who have remained in the various diggings have labored at in-
I tervals during the winter with astonishing fortune. From
| three ounces to. fire hundred dollars the yield per diem lias
; ranged for individual labor. We have heard of still more ox
. traordinary results. It would Ik- the height of folly to at
! tempt ail estimate of the average productiveness of tile dig
i gings under those circumstances. These are the figures, and
they are the plain facts.
A Large Lump of Gold. —A young married man from
Newark, named Richard Rankin, who had worked in Mr.
Seth Boy den’s foundry, a German lad. named Ferdinand Krai
zer, and a Mr. Wethcriy, of Vermont, while working togeth
er at the Auburn dry diggings, February 12th, sft mile* from
this city, on the North Fork of the American river, found
some 18 inches below the surface, a lump of gold, with some
j interlinings of Quartz rook, of the size and sliape of a child's
I bead, weighing/oMr/cea jutunds and a half.’ lie sold it for
$4300.
Price o f Labor in San Francisco. —Laborers get six dol
lars a Jay and found, and a dollar an hour for night work.—
Sabliatli labor is double. We have been paying men on board
our steamer ( the Unicorn) $5 a day, found, and constant etn
i ployment. Were it a little later in the season, and a good
time for digging, you would scarcely hire a man for 1,-ss than
S2OO a month. Mechanics and tradesmen are getting from
sl2 to sl6 a day, and found. We had a lot of caulkers at.
work, and paid the boss sl6, nnd each of the others sl4 a
day, and they keep very fashionable hours. There is good
employment for house carpenters and painters, as von - many
new buildings are in progress, and the wages are sl4 a day.
The steamboats plying between San Francisco and Sacra
mento City, Stockton, Pueblo, San Jose, and other mining
districts, go crowded every trip, especially the Senator, one of
the East River boats, the propeller Hartford, the Sutter, and
the Fire Fly. The first two came round Cape Horn. They
must be coining money. Every passenger is allowed a small
amount of liaggage, hut the least over weight must be well
jiaiil for. A sixty ton sloop or schooner will make more mon
ey than a ship, for they can pay for themselves every trip by
freighting, and they carry passengefs too.
The Tide to the Pacific —The constant stream of
emigration from the Western States to California, says the
Baltimore American, is beginning to be sensibly felt. More
than six thousand persons have already left the State of
Michigan, caeh of whom took in money or outfit at least
ssos, transferring from that State the sum of $3,500,000.
From lowa, it is said, three thousand persons will depart
this season—estimating that each emigrant will take with
him $350, it appears that the emigration to California this
year will cause an abstraction from lowa of $1,000,000. It is
estimated that at least 17,500 emigrants will leave Missouri
for California during the current year, and that each wiff
have an outfit worth $350. The State will thus be drained
of over $6,000,000. Thus, from three States of the Union,
we find an aggregate outlay of more than .">10,000,000—1
caused by the emigration to C alifornia. Speaking of the ef
fect of the large emigration front the States, the New York
Express says:
The emigration to California, especially from the Western
States, is likely to be immense, and the result is, in many
quarters a depreciation in the value of property, particularly
in land. lowa, in some parts, we remark, is threatened with
a sort of depopulation.
Thus all is not gold that glitters, in the old States of the
Union. What is the gain of one is the loss of another.—.
Texas has been settled at the expense of the Southwestern
slave States, and by the stoppage of their growth. The
Mexican war acquisitions, to say nothing of blood and treas
ure they have cost, are nowftieing settled to the sad det
riment of Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois and lowa.
The demand for money in the interior, to fit out emigrants
for California is in some considerable degree, felt even in this
city ; that money which would naturally come here now from
the West, to buy goods for consumption there, is now being
used in investments for h.~.;ses, mules, cattle, teams, &c , for
the El Dorado.
The “ Western fever,” it may be said, rages now with as
much intensity, in the Northwest, as “the Ohio fever’ raged
in New England after the peace of 1816, or as the Wisconsin
and Michigan fever has raged for some time past In New
