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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.