Newspaper Page Text
VOL. I.
‘■m ssyiim m^rnm
! xiLilisl'* every .Saturday morning, in Macon, (Ja. on the follow.
CONDITIONS :
If naiil strietfy in advance - - Sd 50 per annum
I, not *. paid - - - • 300 - “
I, , t l Advertisements will be made to conform to the following pro
jgjggaofthe Statute:—
~ ,t of Land ami Necroes, by Executors. Administrators and Guard
, if’ - required by law to be advertised in a public gazette, sixty
(<v , previous to the day of sale.
•Cfi,.e n!e* must l>e held on the first Tuesday in the month, bat ween
i,.- hours of ten in the forenoon and threw in the afternoon, at the
t ,ur: House in the county in which the property is situated.
The sales of Personal Property must be advertised in like manner for-
V*ticeto Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published forty
Notice application will lie made to the Court of Ordinary fo.i
wr , lo Ist tel and Negnaw, must be published weekly for four
“nilTeis.’ or Utters of Administration must lie published thirty days
—for Dismission from Administration, monthly, six montht —tor Dis
mission from Guardianship, forty days.
Hu rt for foreclosure of mortgage, must be published monthly, for
f,tr montJu— for establishing lost papers, for the full space of three
m , n thf for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators where
, id has been given by the deceased, the full space of three months.
Professional and Business Cards, inserted, according to the follow
in; scale:
for 4 i ines or less iier annum - * “•> in advance.
“ IS lines “ “ - - -i 00 “ u
„|„ u u u . $lO 00“ “
j-y Transient Advertisements will be charged Sl. per square of It?
lines or less, for the first and .'ih cts. for each subsequent insertion.—’
on these rates there will he a deduction of dll percent, on settlement
when advertisements are continued 3 months, without alteration.
A;l Letters except those containing remittances must be post’
paid or free.
Postmasters and others who will act as Agents for the “Citizen
nuv retain CO percent, for their trouble, on all cash subscriptions for
warded.
OFFICE on Mulberry Street, East of tlic Floyd House and near the
Market.
I' l ruff ss in mil Curb.
KELL ADI & BELL,
Attornry* at Law and General Land Agents,
Atlanta,
Will practice in DeKalb and adjoining counties; and in
the Supreme Court at Decatur.— W ill also visit any partot
the country for the settlement of claims, pc. without suit,
j ’ Bounty Land Claims mosECtrrKD with dkspatch.
Olfice on White Hall St., over Dr. Denny’s Drug Store.
A. R. KF.LLAM. M - A ’ BKLL *
S. & R. P. HALL,
Attorneys at Law ,
Macon, Georgia.
I'JUACTICE in Pibb, Crawford. Houston, Epson, Monroe. Macon.
Dooly, Twiggs.Jones and Pike counties; and in the Supreme
Ourt at Macon, Decatur,Tallmtton and Americas,
tyorri. ic over Scott, Carbart i: Co.’s Store.
April 4, 1850. ly
Win. K. deGRAFFENREID,
Attorney & Counsellor at Law.
MACON, GA.
tfornc* MULBERRY STKKT, NEARLY O PROS IT K WASHINGTON
HALL.
M ir, /, __ i—iy
.1011 \ M. MILLEN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
Jnne 28th, 185 w 14— ly
35 A VIP R£ID f
AND NOTARY PUBLIC,—MACON, GEO.
/ COMMISSIONKII OF DEEDS, Ac., for the States of
V Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas, ‘I ennessee,
Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, South ( arolina, I lori
,la, Missouri, New York. Massachusetts, Connecticut, Pvnn
lylvsnia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Arkansas, Maine, &e.
Depositions taken, Accounts probated, Deeds and Mort
gsjrs drawn, an<l all documents and instruments of writing
pr.p&red and authenticated for use and record, in any of the
hove States.
Kfsioesceoii Walnut street,near the African church.
Li’ Public ( Ifficr adjoining Dr. M. S. Thomson s Botan
ic Store—opposite Floyd House.
Macon, dune 28, 1850 R—
BOUNTY LANDS,
TO OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS
Who screed itt the trar of 1812 with (treat Britain , the
Indian wars of 1790, and 1830, and the war with Mex
iea of 1847-8.
r pilE UNDERSIGNKD has received from the proper Oe-
L partments, the necessary papers lo establish all or any
nt the above claims, under the recent acts of Congress. He
•ill aim make out claims mder the Pension Act, as well ns
ail others against the United estates lor Lost Horses, Bug
g'Sf, etc.
Inlormation furnished gratis. Charges moderate.
Cltmi* of Widows,Uleirs, Ac., particularly attendedjto.
net 11 Ct JO.BEIMI A. WHITE.
REPIEM3ER!
VIT'U.F.X in your extremity that l)i". M. S. THOMSON is
n Rill in Macon. Georgia, and when written to, sends
H'Micine by mail to any part of the country,
liont give up all hope without consulting him.
line 7,1650- 11—ts
SMITH & GLIVER,
°EM-ERS in STAPLE DRY-GOODS & GROCERIES
Os all kinds, would r-rpeetfully solicit planters and
families to give them u call before purchasing elsewhere,
as they will always keep No. 1 articles,
oct (1 J 29-flm
€|r (Conun;
An Hour with God.
Oie hour with thee, my God! when daylight breaks
Over a world Th v guardian care has kept,
WVn the fresh soul from soothing slumber wakes,
L praise the love that watched me while I slept;
hen with new strength my blood is bounding free,
first, best, sweetest hour, I’ll give to ihee.
(, aein, ur with Thee, when busy day begins
Her never-ceasing round of bustling care,
I must meet with toil, and pain, am. sins,
And through them all thy cross must bear;
1 ’• then to arm me for the strife, to be
laitkful to death, I'll kneel an hour to Thee.
thie Imur with Thee, when rides the glorious sun
High in mid heaven, and panting nature feels
Lifeless and overpowered, and man has done
For one short hour with urging life’s swift wheels ;
hi that deep pause my soul from care shall flee,
To make that hour of rest one hour with Thee.
One hour with Thee, when saddened twilight flings
Ber soothing charm o’er lawn, and vale, and grove,
hen there breathes up from all created thing
The sweet enthralling sense of thy deep love;
And when its softening power descends on me,
% swelling heart shall spend an hour with Thee. >
One hour with Thee, my GodDwhen softly night y ’
Oliinhn the high heaven with solemn step and
hen thy sweet stars, unutterably bright, y
Are telling forth thy praise to men below \ N
O, then, while far from earth my thoughts would flee,
I'll spend in prayer one joyful hour with Thee!
The Household Jewels.
A traveller, from journeying
In countries far away,
Re-passed his threshold at the close
Os one calm Babl>atli day;
A voice of love, a comely face,
A kiss of chaste delight,
Were the first things to welcome him
On that blest Sabbath night.
lie stretched his limbs upon the hearth,
Before its friendly blaze,
And conjured up mixed memories
Os gay and gloomy days;
And felt that none of gentle soul,
However far he roam.
Can e’er forego, can e’er forget,
The quiet joys of home.
“ Bring me iny children !” cried the sire,
With eager, earnest tone;
“ I long to press them, and to mark
j low lovely they have grown.
Twelve weary months have passed away
Since I went o’er the sea,
To feel how sad and lone I was
Without rny babes and thee.”
“ Refresh thee, as ’tis needful,” said
The fair and faithful wife,
The while her pensive features paled,
And stirred with inward strife ;
“ Refresh thee, husband of iny heart,
I ask it as a boon;
Our children are reposing, love ;
Thou slialt behold them soon.”
She spread the meal, she filled the cup,
She pressed him to partake,
He sat down blithely at the board,
And nil for her sweet sake;
But when the frugal feast was done,
The thankful prayer preferred,
Again affection's fountain flowed;
Again its voice was heard.
“Bringme my children, darling wife,
I’m in an ardent mood ;
My soul lacks purer aliment,
I long for other food ;
Bring forth my children to my gaze,
Or ere I rage or weep,
I yearn to kiss their happy eyes,
Before the hour of sleep.”
“ I have a question yet to ask;
Be patient, husband dear,
A stranger, one suspicious morn,
Did send some jewels here;
Until to take them from my care,
But yesterday he came.
And I restored them with a sigh :
—Dost thou approve, or blame ?”
f . .-ng w i- . ?
” J marvel much, sweet w ur, “cn *
Shouldst breathe such words to me ;
Restore to man, resign to God,
Whate’er is lent to thee;
Restore it with a willing heart,
Be grateful for the trust;
Whate’er may tempt or try us, wife,
Let us be ever just.”
She took him by tbe passive hand,
And up the moonlit stair,
She led him to their bridal bed.
With mute and mournful air;
She turned the cover down, and there,
In grave-like garments dressed,
Lay the twin children of their love,
In death's serenest rest.
“ These were the jewels lent to me,
Which God has deigned to own;
The precious caskets still remain,
But, ah. the gems are flown ;
But thou didst teach me to resign
What God alone can claim ;
He giveth and he takes away,
Blest be 11 is holy name !”
The father gazed upon his babes,
The mother drooped apart,
Whilst all the woman’s sorrow gushed
From her o'erbnrdened heart;
And with the striving of her grief,
Which wrung the tears she shed,
Were mingled low and loving words
To the unconscious dead.
When the sad sire had looked his fill,
He veiled each breathless face,
And down in self-abasement bowed,
For comfort and for grace ;
With the deep eloquence of woe,
Poured forth his secret soul,
Rose up, and stood erect and calm,
In spirit healed and whole.
“ Restrain thy tears, poor wife,” he said,
“ I.earn this lesson still,
God gives, and God can take away,
Blest be Ilis holy will!
Blest are my children, for they live
From sin and sorrow free,
And lam not all joyless, wife,
With faith, hope,love, and thee.”
jHisrellitfitj.
The Ghost of Art.
I am a bachelor, residing in rather a dreary set of
chambers in the Temple. They are situated in a
square court of high houses, which would be a com
plete well but for the want of water and the ab
sence of a bucket. I lived at the top of the house,
among the tiles and sparrows. Like the little man
in the nursery story, I live by myself, and all the
bread and cheese 1 get —which is not much —I put
upon the shelf. I need scarcely add, perhaps, that
I am in love, and that the lather of ray charming
Julia objects to our Lnion. /
I mention these little particular* as I might deliv
er a letter of introduction. Th%eader is now ac
quainted with me, and perhaps will condescend to
listen to mv narrative. / I ,
lam naturally of a'dreamy tirn of mind; and
mv abundant leisure —for I am (idled to the bar
coupled with.ranch lonely listening to the twittering
of sparpp . , and pattering of rain, has encouraged
that position. In my “top set,” I hear the wind
howl, on a winter night, when the man on the
ground floor believes it perfectly still weather. e
dim lamps with which our honorable society ( sll P _
posed to be as yet unconscious ot the new discovery
called Gas) make the horrors of the staircase visi
ble, deepen the gloom which generally settles on my
soul when I go home at night.
“Jttkpcninmt in all tljiugs—Neutral iu Notljing.”
MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 2, 1850.
lam in Die law, but not of it. I can’t exactly
make out Ait it means. I sit in Westminster Hall
sometimes (in character) from ten to four; and
when I go out ot court, I don’t know whether I am
standing on my wig or my boots.
It appears to me (I mention this in confidence) ns
if there was too much talk and too much law—as if
some grains ot truth were started overboard into a
tempestuous sea of chaff.
All this may make me mystical. Still lam con
fident that what I am going to describe myself as
having seen and heard, I actually did see and hear.
It is necessary that I should observe that I have
a great delight in pictures. lam no painter myself,
but I have studied pictures and written about them.
L have seen all the mast famous pictures in the
world ; my education and reading have been sufii
eiently general to possess me beforehand with a
knowledge ot most of the subjects to which a pain
ter is likely to have recourse ; and, although I might
be in some doubt as to the rightful fashion of the
scabbard of King Lear’s sword, for instance, I think
I should know King Lear tolerably well, if I hap
pened to meet him.
Igo to all the modern exhibitions every season,
and of course I revere the Royal Academy. I stand
by its forty Academical articles almost as firmly as
1 stand by the thirty-nine articles of the Church of
England. lam convinced that in neither ease could
there U‘ by any rightful possibility, one article more
or less.
It is now exactly three years —three years ago,
this very month—since I went from Westminster to
the Temple, one Thursday afternoon, in a cheap
steamboat. The sky was black when I imprudent
ly walked on board. It began to thunder and light
en immediately afterwards, and the rain poured
down in torrents. The deck seeming to smoke with
the wet, I went below; but so many passengers
were there, smoking too, that I came up again, and
buttoned my pea coat, and standing in the shadow
of the paddle-box, stood as upright as I could, and
made the best of it.
It was at this moment I first beheld the terrible
being who is the subject of the present recollections.
►Standing against the funnel, apparently with the
intention of drying himself by the heat, as fast as
he got wet, was a shabby man in thread-bare black,
and with his hands in his pockets, who fascinated
me from the memorable instant when 1 caught his
eye.
Where had I caught that eye before ? “W ho was
he 1 Why did I connect him, all at once, with the
Vicar of Wakefield, Alfred the Great, Gil Bias,
Charles the Second, Joseph and his brethren, the
Fairy Queen, Tom Jones, the Decameron of Bocea
eio, Tam O’Slianter, the marriage of the Doge of
Venice with the Adriatic, and the great Plague of
London/ Why, when he bent one leg, and placed
one hand upon the back of the seat near him, did
my mind associate him wildly with the words, “No.
one hundred and forty-two. Portrait of a gentle
man * ” Could it he that I w;ls going mad l
.1 looked at him again, and now I couh( have ta
ken my affidavit that he belonged to the \ icarut
Wakefield’s family. Whether lie was the Vicar, or
Moses, or Mr. Burchill, or the Squire, or a conglom
eration of all four, I knew not, but I was impelled
to seize him by the throat, and charge him with be
ing, in some fell way, connected with the Primrose
blood. lie looked up at the rain, and then —oh,
Heaven !—he became Saint John, lie folded his
arms, resigning himself to the weather, and I was
frantically inclined to address him as the Spectator,
and firmly demand to know, what he had done with
Sir Roger de Coverlv.
The frightful suspicion that I was becoming de
ranged, returned upon me with redoubled force.
Meantime, this awful stranger, inexplicably linked
to my distress, stood drying himself at the tunnel;
and ever, as the steam rose from his clothes, diliu
siug a mist around him, I saw through the ghostly
medium all the people 1 have mentioned, and a score
more, sacred or profane.
I am conscious of a dreadful inclination that stole
upon tne, as it thundered and lightened, to grapple
with this man, or demon, and plunge him over the
side. But I constrained myself- —I know not how—
to speak to him, and in a pause of the storm 1
crossed the deck and said—
“ What are you ?”
He replied hoarsely, “A Model.”
“A what ! ” said I.
“A Model,” he replied. “I sets to the profession
tor a bob a-bour.” (All through this narrative I
give his own words, which are indelibly printed on
my memory.)
The relief which this disclosure gave me, the ex
quisite delight of the restoration of my confidence
in my own sanity, I cannot describe. I should have
fallen on‘his neck, but for the consciousness of being
observed by the man at the wheel.
“You then,” said I, shaking him so warmly by
the hand, that I wrung the rain out of his coat cutt,
“are the gentleman whom I have so frequently con
templated, in connection with a high backed chair,
with a red cushion, and a table with twisted legs.
“I am that Model,” he rejoined moodily, ‘‘and 1
wish I was any thing else.”
“Say not so,” I returned. “I have seen you in
the society of many beautiful young women,” as
in truth 1 had, and always (I now remembered) in
the act of making; the most of his legs.
“No doubt,’’/said he. “And you’ve seen me a
long with of flowers, and any number of ta
ble-kivers, :md antique cabinets, and warious gam
mon.” /
“Sir,”jrcud I.
“AiiJr warious gammon,” lie repeated, in a loud
er voice. “You might have seen me in armor too,
if you had looked sharp. Blessed if I lia’nt stood
ill half the suits of armor as ever come out of
Pratt’s shop ; and set, for weeks together, a eating
nothing out of half the gold and silver dishes as
has ever been lent for the purpose out of Storrses,
and Mortimerses, or Garardses, and Davenports
ses.’’
Excited, as it appeared, by a sense of injury, I
thought he never would have found an end for the
last word. But, at length, it rolled sullenly away
with the thunder.
“Pardon me,” said I, “You are a well-favored,
well-made man, and yet —forgive me—l find, on
examining my mind, that I associate you with —
that my recollection indistinctly makes you, in short
—excuse me —a kind of powerful monster.”
“It would be a wonder if it did,nt,” he said. Do
you know what my points are ? ”
“No,” said I.
“Mv throat and my legs,” said he. When I don’t
set for a head, I mostly set for a throat and a pair
of legs. Now, granted you was a painter, and was
to work at my throat for a week together, I suppose
you’d see a lot of bumps and thumps there, that
would never be there at all. if you looked at me, in
stead of only my throat. M ouldn’tyou ?
“Probably,” said I, surveying him.
“M by, it stands to reason,” said the model.
“Work another week at my legs, and it’ll be the
same tiling. You’ll make ’em out as knotty and as
knobby, at last, as if they was the trunks of two old
trees. Then, take and stick my legs and throat
on to another man’s body, and you’ll make a reg’lar
monster. And that’s the way the public gets their
reg’lar monsters, every first monday in May, when
the Royal Academy exhibition opens.”
“You are a critic,” said I, with an air of defer
ence.
“I’m in an uncommon ill humor, if that’s it,” re
joined the Model, with great indignation. “As if it
warn’t bad enough for a bob a-hour, for a man to be
mixing himself tip with that there jolly old furniter
that one ’ud think the public know’d the wery nails
in by this time—or to be putting on greasy old ’ats
and cloaks, and playing tambourines in the Bay o’
Naples, with Wesuvius a smokin’ according to pat
tern in the background, and the wines a bearing
wonderful in the middle distance—or to be impo
litely kicking up his legs among a lot o’ gals, with
no reason whatever in his mind to shew ’em—as if
this war’nt bad enough, I’m to go and be thrown
out of employment too , ”
“Surely no,” said I.
“Surely yes,” said the indignant Model. “But
I’ll grow one.”
The gloomy and threatening manner in which he
muttered the last words, can never be effaced front
nty remembrance. My blood ran cold.
I asked of myself, what was it that this despe
rate being was resolved to grow ? My breast made
no response.
I ventured to implore him to explain his mean
ing. With a scornful laugh lie uttered this dark
prophecy:
“I’ll grow one. And mark my words, it shall
haunt you! ”
We parted in the storm, after I had forced half a
crown on his acceptance, with a trembling hand.
I conclude that something supernatural happened
to the steamboat, as it bore his reeking figure down
the river; but it never got into the papers.
Two years elapsed, during which I followed my
profession without any vicissitudes; never holding
so much as a motion of course. At the expiration
of that period, I found myself making my way
home to the Temple one night in precisely such
another storm of thunder and lightning as that by
which I had been overtaken on board the steamboat
—except that this storm, bursting over the town at
midnight, was rendered much more awful by the
darkness and the hour.
As 1 turned into my court, I really thought a
thunderbolt would fail and plough the pavement
up. Every brick and stone in the place seemed to
have an echo of its own for the thunder. The wa
ter-spouts were overcharged, and the rain came tear
ing down front the house-tops as if they had been
mountain-tops.
t Mrs. Parkins, my laundress—wife of Parkins, the
then dead of a dropsy —had particu
lar” ihsl. actions to jiffiee a bed-room caudW'anfi'-a
inatch under the staircase lamp on my landing, in
order that I might light my candle there whenever 1
came home. Mrs. Parkins invariably disregarding
nty instructions, they were never there. Thus it
happened that on this occasion I groped my way
into my sitting room to find the candle and came
out to light it.
What were my emotions when, underneath the
staircase lamp ; shining with wet, as if lie had nev
er been dry since our last meeting, stood the myste
rious being whom I had encountered on the steam
boat in a thunder storm, two years before! His
predictions rushed upon my mind, and I turned
faint.
“I said I’d do it.” he observed in a hollow voice,
“and I have done it.’’
“Misguided creature, what have you done?” I
returned.
“I’ll let you know,” was his reply, “if you let me
in.”
Could it be murder that he had done ? And had
he been so successful that lie wanted to do it again
at my expense ?
I hesitated.
“May I come in ?” said he.
I inclined my head, with as much presence of
mind as I could command, and he followed me in
to mv chambers. There I saw that the lower part
of his face was tied up in what is commonly called a
Belcher handkerchief. lie slowly removed this
bandage, and exposed to view a long dark beard,
curling over his upper lip, twisting about the cor
ners of his mouth, and hanging down upon his
breast.
“What is this ?” I exclaimed involuntarily—“and
what have you become ? „
“I ant the Ghost of Art! ” said he.
The effect of these words, slowly uttered in the
thunderstorm at midnight, was appalling to the last
degree. More dead than alive, I surveyed him in
silence.
“The German taste came up,” said lie, “and
threw me out of bread, lam ready for the taste
now.”
lie made his beard a little jagged with his hands,
folded his arms and said —
“Severity ? ”
I shuddered —it was so severe.
lie made his beard flowing on his breast, and
leaning both hands on the staff of a carpet broom
which Mrs. Parkins had left upon my books, said —
“Benevolence! ”
I stood transfixed. The change of sentiment was
entirely in the beard. The man might have left his
face alone, or had no face. The beard did every
thing.
lie laid down on his back on my table, and with
that action of his head threw up his beard at the
chin.
“That’s death ! ” said he.
He got off iny table, looking up at the ceiling,
cocked his beard a little awry, at the same time
making it stick ont before him.
“Adoration, or a vow of vengeance ! ” he obser
ved.
He turned his profile to me, making his upper
lip very bulgy with the upper part ot his beard.
“Romantic character! ” said he.
He looked sideways out of his beard, as it it were
an ivy bush. “Jealousy,” said he. He gave it an
ingenious twist in the air, and informed me that lie
was carousing. He made it shaggy with his fingers
—and it was despair; lank —and it was avarice;
tossed it all kinds of ways —and it was rage. Ihe
beard did every thing.
“I am the Ghost of Art,” said he, “Two bob a
day now, and more when it’s longer! Hairs the
true expression. There is no other. 1 said Id
grow it, and I have grown it , and it shall haunt
you ! ’’
He may have tumbled down stairs in the dark,
but he never walked or ran down. I looked ovtf
the balusters, and I was alone with the thunder.
Need I add more of my terrific fate ? It has
haunted me ever since. It glares upon me from
the walls of the Royal Academy, (except when Mh
clise subdues it to his genius,) it fills my soul with
terror at the British Institution, it lures young ar
tists on to their destruction. Go where I will, the
Ghost of Art, eternally working the passions in hair,
and expressing every thing by beard, pursues me.
The prediction is accomplished and the victim has
no rest. — Household I Yords.
Greens, —The Editor of the Boston Post perpe
trates the following ;
A late number of the New Orleans Delta contains
an humorous article, headed “What to eat, and what to
drink,” in which occurs the following passage :
There has been ail attempt of late to introduce those old
Virginia and Tennessee dishes here—bacon and greens, and
joleand snaps. In Virginia this dish is regarded w ith a x-en
eration second only to that which is felt politically for the reso
lutions of ’9B and ’99 ; and when a person, after ex|>eriment
ing upon other dishes, comes back to bacon and greens, it is
called returning to first principles.”
political.
MIL TOOMBS,
On the Admission of California.
CONCLUSION OF HIS LATE LETTER.
The admission of California into the Union seems
to be the master grievance of the day. The hist le
gislature of Georgia, according to Gov. Towns, de
clared it sufficient cause for resistance to the Federal
Government. Ido not concur in this opinion, and
sought an early occasion after its announcement by
the legislature to explain my dissent from it, in the
letter to Gov. Towns, to which I have before refer
red. My opinion has undergone no change, and I
am ready to redeem the pledge then given to oppose
resistance of any sort to the government for that
cause. Under the express power to admit new
States, the admission of California was purely a
question of congressional discretion. The law ad
mitting her is a constitutional law, passed according
to the prescribed forms, and by virtue of the pow
ers vested in congress by the constitution. It may
be wise or unwise, but is a constitutional law. It
inflicts no sectional wrong or injury on the South,
and in my opinion ought not to be resisted by the
South. In the exercise of my discretion as your re
presentative, I voted against the bill. My principal
reasons were, Ist. There had been no act of Con
gress authorizing the people inhabiting that territo
ry, to form a constitution and erect a State Govern
ment. This has been the usual but not the univer
sal rule; and while admitting the right of Congress
to depart from it, I adherred to it, because I be
lieved it to be safest and best that so important an
act as this should rest on law, and be conducted ac
cordir.g- to Ihxv, 2d]y. The^title to nearly all the
land of the country was still in the Government.
No provision having been made for the primary dis
position of the soil, a very large proportion of the
population were in law intruders on the public lands,
with no fixed habitations, and were placed by these
unfortunate circumstances in a very unfavorable
condition for the maintenance of social order and
good government. 3d. The boundaries declared by
California, for herself, were injudiciously large, in
cluding remote and disconnected settlements, sepa
rated by formidable natural barriers, and perhaps
not less in some eases by dissimilarity of pursuits,
wants and interests. None of these reasons are sec
tional, and would as well warrant Massachusetts in
resisting the law r as Georgia. Congress waived these
objections, and had a right to waive them ; and it
is not to be denied that there were weighty reasons
on the other side for her admission. She had a popu
lation of American citizens much beyond the num
ber requisite for her admission. Her people, with
out any fault of theirs, but on account of our disa
greements on the slavery question, had been with
out lawful government for several years. They were
subject to an illegal and unconstitutional military
usurpation, at the very moment when they most
needed stable, and regular, and lawful government.
They had an undoubted right to throw ofi’ that gov
ernment, and were rightfully entitled to a govern
ment of laws, instead of military force. The remote
ness of California, the extraordinary state of things
there, resulting from the unprecedented discoveries
of gold, and the high rate of wages, made its gov
ernment by Congress not only inconvenient and dif
ficult, but enormously expensive to us. The mixed
character of the population from all countries, invi
ting collision and hostility, augmented the necessity
for efficient and regular government. In weighing
these reasons, Congress decided for her admission,
and I doubt not that the exclusion of slavery by her
Constitution had a great and perhaps acontroling in
fluence, in favor of her admission, with the Northern
members. But they did not transcend their powers,
ft is equally due to truth and candor to say, that
the controlling reason for resistance to that act at the
South, is founded upon that same clause in her con
stitution excluding slavery. That reason ought not
to have controlled either party, and especially is not
a just or sufficient reason for opposing the law’ and
resisting the government. I have already attempt
ed to vindicate the rights of a people forming a con
stitution for admission into the Union, to admit or
exclude slavery at their ow n pleasure, and to prove
that Congress had no other power over such con
stitution thus presented, than to see that it is re
publican. We demanded it and compromised it for
Missouri. We have demanded it and secured it for
New Mexico and Utah. We should adhere to it, be*
cause it is right; but it is expedient as w ell as right.
One hundred and fifty thousand American citizens,
on the distant shores of the Pacific Ocean, having
met by their representatives, to form a constitution
for themselves, have adjudged it best, under their
peculiar circumstances, for their interest, their pros
perity, and their happiness, to prohibit the intro
duction of slavery into their new commonwealth.
It is their business, not ours. Whether they have
decided wisely or unwisely, it is not for us to deter
mine. We have settled the question differently for
ourselves; it is not for them to disturb that judg
ment now or hereafter ; both cases stand upon the
same great principle —the rights of a tree people, in
entering the family of American States, to adopt
such a form of Republican government as in their
judgment will best preserve their liberties, promote
them happiness, and perpetuate their prosperity. If
we are w ise we will defend rather than resist this
birth-right of American freemen, so invaluable to us,
so formidable to the enemies of our property, our
peace and our safety. lam ready to rally with you
for the defence of this great principle. With no
memory for past differences of opinion, careless of
the future, I am ready to unite with any portion, of
all of any countrymen, in the defence of the integri
ty of the Republic.
I am, very respectfully,
Your obliged Fellov-cilizen,
’ K. TOOMBS,
Judge Wellborn.
This gentleman, the Representative from the
2nd, Congressional District, has recently addressed
a most able and eloquent letter to his constituents,
The following extract contains bis views on the ad
mission of California: —
‘‘Having so often expressed my opinion that, &%
circumstances transpired, in-ustice was done the po
litical rights of the slaveholding States by the ad
; mission of California, I content myself now with
giving very briefly my reasons why I regard her ad
mission as being, all things capable of
being endured at least. L<x>king to the origin of
those causes which favored, if they did not actually
produce, the unanimous anti-slavery sentiment that
found expression iu the adoption of the State Con
stitution of California, we perceive that they origi
nated in no act of this Government, Anarchy reign
ed in California, nnd anti-slavery voters who might
have assembled in preponderating numbers, had law
been given the Territory , the more certainly found
their way there in pretailing force in the absence of
it. Is not that about the amount of it ? Whether
results would have been different had a fomal or
ganization taken pla-e, is, of course, speculative
and uncertain. But while all suffered more or less
by the bad or rather non-administration of territo
rial affairs, the South was so situated, in respect to
her prevalent form of labor, as to suffer disjrropor
tionately. By the act of California’s admission into
the Union, what had originated in this indirect,
constructive, and somewhat anomalous manner, was
but carried into final execution, At the same time
it is quite apparent that no act in the power of this
Congress could recall the lost advantage to the Soxith.
The case in the beginning was not one of aggression
of the government —the government having but
broken down by division and weakness in an effort
to give what was deemed by the large majority of
southern Representatives an acceptable government,
the Clayton compromise. Government failing, a
theoretical political right—possibly a substance—
was lost, that in the nature of things was irrecover
able. For example, had the organization into which
California emerged from a state of anarchy of two
year’s duration been taken from her, and she re
manded, even the accumulated obstruction to the
slaveholder in the prevalent public opinion there,
would still have remained. Had she been divided
at the sacrifices of convenience it would have invol
ved, and a feeble territory in the southern part of
the country kept on hand with a view to invite sla
very there —looking to the free State, California, on
the North, Mexico, with no law of extradition by
which we could reclaim a fugitive slave, on the south,
the character of the country within and in the rear,
bearing in mind the immense, perilous, and exten
sive intermediate travel, and is it probable—the
subject being confessedly uncertain— that slavery
would have been a permanent institution of the an~
ticipated State?
California may now, or at a future day, admit sla
very. Some believe that she will. Such is not my
own judgement, Rather, will not the experience of
her mines correspond with that which has invaria
bly attended similar ones elsewhere? Will not the
permanent and durable natural qualities of the coun
try as a poor agricultural, a good commercial one,
be rapidly growing on the vision, and perhaps at
distant day sinking in themselves the attention
I now so natch monopolized by them ?
But to recur: Is her admission—formed as she
is out of a territory of our own, of sufficient and
well iuformed population—v*st resources of miner
al wealth—a rapidly growing foreign commerce—
the attributes, resources, and capacities of a State —
in tine, endorsed by the judgement of the overwhel
ming majority of 151 to 57 votes, including a large
portion of the slaveliolding States—to be regarded
as, in consequence of the non-observance of certain
formalities in her proceedings, important and proper
to have been bad, and yet so uncertain as to their
substantial and final vaiue in the particular which
concerns us, to be resented by a formal dissolution of
the confederacy ? Is not the penalty disproportion
ed to the offence ? Is not the remedy too uurelia
ble to be trusted on such a ground, admitting a well
founded complaint to exist ?
The discussions of the time's have brought to the
surface of opinion and feeling much exasperation
and impatience, highly prejudicial to a fair and truth
ful view of the subject in hand. After all that can
be justly said in the way of political criticism on
the slovenly proceedings and rapid progress by
which California has found her way into the Union,
let us contemplate for one moment the indulgent
manner in which she was regarded by Mr. Hoik,
who, of all public men, bad most to do in bringing
her to the door of the Union, and than whom one
more devoted to the South or truer to the Union,
whatever else may be objected to him, was never hon
ored by her confidence. It will be recollected that,
in the last winter of his Presidential service, Sena
tor Douglas, of Illinois, proposed a bill to convert
California at once into a State, with a view to throw
this question of slavery into the hands of her peo
ple, crude and of doubtful favoritism for slavery, to
go no further, and their instant admission into the
Union. I have sought of Senator Douglas to know
the light in which Mr. Poik regarded that project#
The following short extract from his reply, which he
did me the honor to address me here on the 2nd
inst., will show it. Speaking of the bill in question,
he proceeds thus:
‘lt simply authorised the people \>f California to form
a„State government and settle the slavery question to
suit themselves, and to come into the Union as a State.
Mr. Polk took a deep interest in the passage of the bill
as modified by me, and arrayed his personal and political
friends to support as the best and only mode of giving
government to the people of California, and of settling
the question in a mode satisfactory to the country and
consistent, with the constitution of the United States#
You will have no difficulty in finding a host of witness
es in support of this assertion.’
Thus we see that so far from subjecting Califor
nia to a course, in conventional phrase, of territorial
pupilage and probation, his plan was to clothe her
people on the instant with suffrage power over the
subject of slavery, and leave the South to abide their
will. Nor can it be argued that he underrated the
value of matured and well protected paper safe con
ducts to these territories in behalf of the slave, in
ignorance of the mines they contain. Far from
it. If gentlemen will turn to the message from
which I have quoted the passages respecting tho
true principles to be introduced into the territorial
bills, they will find not only the greater mines of
California, but the more insignificant and less at
ttractive ones of New Mexico, discussed and U^at”
NO. 32.
