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(Original |kjm 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