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VOL. 2. % ifs ijp.'J.s.iG SjKjrjUstto From the Louisville Journal. Take Me Home. BY MISS VIRGINIA L. SMITH, OF MEMPHIS, TENN. Mother ! my heart is chill— I’m weary—l would sleep. Oh! take me homo ! Give me some lulling, lethean anodyne To steep the quivering senses of this clay In slumber strange and dreamless—death’s eclipse ; Then bear this drooping spirit to thy home, Beyond the singing stars. There is a spell Os ice upon my soul, its freezing chain in a gnawing poison presses down Until the clankness fetters slowly change AU beauty into Bitterness. My brain Is wildtred too, and Hunting with the strife, A mighty struggle with it* warring thoughts, And all its fierce imaginings. The mind That flamed at tinrts, a gorgeous comet-star, Or glowed anon a steady, shining sun, Now darkles on its weary, wandering way, Like some pale nebula, far wavering through The starless desert of the southern pole; Lost, lost, and lone. Oh ! mother, guide it homo ! The brazen portals of a dull despair Close on me with a hoarse and sullen clang, That passes sharply through my shuddering sou!— And like a bell in some time ruined tower, Swung by the sighing, solitary wind, My lone heart sends a hollow’ echo back. I’m walking in a vague, unmeaning dream, And groping onward in this horror’s mist, Cold, clammy, clinging as the damps of death From out the charnel-house. The light of life, All pale and lurid, waver’mid the gloom, As fading lamps at morning wail the death Os Pleasure in her lonely banquet hall; And aspirations, hopes that led me on To dare attain the unattainable, Now flit before me strange and meaningless, As half-formed images that darkle through An idiot's vacant brain ! The world to mo Is like a sphinx—huge, dark, and mystical, From whose still, stony eyes I win 110 glance Os kindly sympathy —whose granite lips, Fixed, rigid in one everlasting smile, Mock the deep anguish of the orphan’s cry, Hide me, niv mother, ’noatli the kindly gloom That wraps the vale of shadows —oil! lift up This weariness, which like an avalanche, And freezing as its adamantine waves, Seems crushing out the energies of life, And filling up the dreary, aching void With idiotic madness —terrors vague, That creep like reptiles through the ruined br.ii.i And crumbling heart. Give me the anodyne, Tire phantom madness seize me—let mo sleep ! Come, come, my mother, save thy truant child— Sweet mother, take me home! (Fir the Georgia Citzicn. From the Portfolio of an Ex-Editor. Till-: THAIUKFIL SOV, IN ONE ACT. Translated from the German of Engel. BY T. D. M. Dramatis Personar. Roi>eß. —.Ini old Farmer. Rachel. —His Irife. Margaret. —llls daeghier. Michael. — Her Groom. Kate. — .Michael's mother. The Sacristan of the tillage. Captain of Cavalry. Soldier and old Farmers of the Village. {The Scene it, a Grove of trees in front of a little Cottage. In the hack ground is seen a little hill.) SCENE I Roder. (Steps out into the shed and stretches him self.) lam an old stupe ! I could surely sleep long er. Jt seems to me as if lead were in all my limbs. But to sleep ! to sleep away this lovely morning : I cannot possibly do that. If Ido not get up to see the sun as he rises up in the morning, it is not well with ine that whole day. See how glorious he rises tip there! How beautiful! What a lovely Aurora! It is always the same, and yet ever changing. O per haps ! perhaps my son even now is already up. In war one cannot sleep long—perhaps he stands up then, and beholds the sun, as joyous as I, and thinks of me, his father, as I think of him, my son. Good, noble boy ! He has often told me, when quite small that I would live to enjoy much happiness in him ! SCENE 11. RODER AND RACHEL. Rachel. Already here ? 1 knew not where you were. Roder. Yes, I am here; and I behold the lovely sun as he rises. He has even reminded tne of our Frederick. May he be doing well now, mother ? Rachel. Ah! Perhaps he is no more. Roder. Still always the old grief? Believe me now ! We shall see him again as certain as I live. For this I pray to God every day. Rachel. lie is a soldier, dear father. A soldier has no moment of his own. llow much care and anxiety do I continually feel on his account! Often, when I hear his letters read, and others believe I weep for joy, I weep then through grief. ‘lt is perhaps his last that I shall receive.’ And the gold, father, that always come in them : I cannot look u|k>u it without feeling distressed and troubled in spirit. With this gold, 1 think, the King pays him fur his blood, and shall we, his parents, appropriate to our use his property ? Ah ! father! Roder. The King pays him for his blood ! (shak ing his head.) Rachel. What else? His blood and his life. Roder. No, good mother! If he served a strange master, then you would have said truly, and I wouid not take from you a farthing of his money. But he serves our own King. And were not his blood and his life long since forfeited to the King ! Does not eve ry one in the entire country belong to him? Rachel. (Sighing.) O that it were now peace! Ruder. The people say, it is already peace. Rachel. The people, father! Ah ! they speak without knowledge. Ruder. And have they not a right to say so. when here and there a Regiment is pressing back to its quar ters ? Rachel. Yes—if that were so. Roder. It is so, mother! So don't give yourself any uneasiness about the matter! Y\ c shall have peace before we can turn around; and then comes our Irederiek to live not far from us, in the town. Thitb €r will we stroll once every week. Rachel. (Smiling.) Oh twice, three times, father ! °nce is not often euough. But how happy will we be, “hen we behold him again! I wonder if we will still know him ? Roder. Ila ! if I would still know my son ! Rachel. In officer’s clothes, father, bespangled all oVer “hh gold, and a ribbon about his neck with a star 1 He wears an order, I have been told. Roder. Yes, he wears it because be has acted L'avely ’ Rachel. llow do you think lie looks father.? Roder. TV by ? As an honest soldier, I should think. The coat and the ribbon are indeed worth nothing in themselves; but the scar, mother, which lie should have across his forehead—that is the true badge of a soldier. LTpon whomsoever you discov er it you may know that his heart is in the right place. SCENE 111. RODER, RACHEL, THE SACRISTAN. ’ [.Sacristan. Good morning, father ! good morning, mother. Roder. Look there! our Mr. Sacristan. (They shake him by the hand.) Sacristan. No news from your son ? The month is again up. lloder. Oh ! now [ think of it, mother, I went to bed yesterday, before Margaret came back. lias she brought any thing ? 1 Rachel. O yes, father ! Even a letter ! But she still lies down and sleeps as soundly ns ever. Shall 1 wake her ? Roder. Say toiler, that her father would see her. [Exit Rachel. SCENE IV. RODER AND THE SACRISTAN. Roder. And do you know, Mr. Sacristan, that my son is no longer a staff-officer ? that lie commands his own squadron of Cavalry ? Sacristan. Not possible! Ilia own squadron 1 Roder. It is indeed true. Our Pastor read the last letter. Indeed he is, Mr.Sacristan! It always so hap pened that tile King was present when my son acted bravely. So he raised him as a mark of favor to the rank of Colonel, commanding his own squadron. Sacristan. But how did it happen ? Tell me all about it, father! Ruder. \es indeed, but listen, Mr. Sacristan ! In the last battle by-what d’ye call it ?—by—but I cannot recollect even the name. When the whole regiment had become torn to pieces ; the most of the officers killed or wounded; my son, who had already become a mark for the enemy, but undaunted, collected both good and bad, a hundred men in all; (ever quick) lie led them towards the enemy ; he received a wound, and his horse shot through the body fell dead under him; he mounted a fresh one and rode back with only fifty men. ‘flic King saw it and gave him straightway the command of a squdron, and promised him moreover to make his fortune still better. Yes. yes, Mr. Sacris tan ! What I tell you! (slapping his breast.) That has my son done ! Sacristan. O, he is brave; that I perceived even at school. When the boys of the village engaged in play, Frederick always conducted himself nobly, and when he happened to receive a blow he always return ed it with interest. It sticks in him still, father. It was born in him. Roder. (Smiling.) Am I worth such a son? SCENE V. RODER, SACRISTAN, RACHEL, MARGARET. Rachel. Did I not tell you so ? They were up when I came for you. Margaret. There, father (she gapes,) there is a letter for you from town from brother Frederick. And there is your monthly income. It is twelvedol^vr*. Rachel. Six, you mean to say. Margaret. (Gaping again.) The Post Master said twelve. Rachel. O I guess it already. lie has surely in dulged us still more farther, because he has now a much greater income, lie gives us according to his ability. Do you not think so! Roder. Dear, good Fred ? I can live upon the six. Margaret. And the wine, father, which brother ordered for you from the old, fat wine-merchant with the blue nose. Pray what is his name—it is now in your room. It is a whole basket full. Sacristan. (Very attentive.) A whole basket full ? Eb ! eh ! Roder. You shall have a bottle of it, Mr. Sacris tan. You ma) send for it. (The Sacristan thanks him politely.) But you must also drink a bottle with me, while you read the letter. Go mother ! Bring a bott'o and three glasses for us. Also something for breakfast. And you, Margaret, give us a table and two stools—be quick ! [Exeunt Rachel and Margaret.] Rachel. But don't read it until I return, I pray you. [Says this outside of tlie door.] SCENE VI. RODER, THE SACRISTAN, MARGARET, [who passes back and forth.] Roder. Break it open immediately, Mr. Sacristan. None of us here can read. May I then hear tv hat he writes of peace, and if he will soon return. Sacristan. Os peace, did you say ? Indeed the people chat a gooddealabout it, butl venture to say that. Why would he be so violent if it were peace? Roder. So ? would be so violent ? Sacristan. Yes! do you not know that yesteroay evening a recruiting officer came here with an order to gather up recruits ? Rodor. To enlist soldiers ? Is that true ? Sacristan. Yes indeed! And that tint young people are already in alarm and anxiety on the account of it ? Roder. O the fools ! Wherefore in dread ? If they are fit for the service they should go! They should serve their King! Every man’s destiny is fixed, said the Parson, though he falls by a cannon-ball, or fe ver! We all must die. Do you not understand it so, Mr. Sacristan ? That is my belief. Sacristan. But if should take away from your daughter her groc ? your future son-in-law ? Take care, Roder! lien a young, active fellow. Roder. Ah, no ! A Ainst that I pray ! Sacristan . ! Now ! p , e must not expect such a thing. R Margaret. (Who had already brought forth the table, now bring also the wino and the glasses. Pulls Roder’s sleeve.) Father— Roder. Wliat ? what is it ? Margaret. I wish to ask a favor of you, father. Roder. Well! out with it! Margaret. Yesterday evening, father, as I was coming back, there stood Michael, my groom, without the village ; he had waited for the whole evening and scolded because I had staid away so long. Roder. And what of that? Would you go thith er to take breakfast with him ? Margaret. (Bashful.) Yes, father. Roder. And is it even so? without first even hear ing the news from thy brother ? Girl! girl! I make too much of you ! but you are the youngest chicken of the brood, and came sneaking into the world be hind the rest so that no one could expect much of you : (Threatening her,) but Miss! \ou do not love me if you love not your brother ! You do not even so much as love your father and mother! Sacristan. But the groom, Roder; who allows her indeed to love him, but her father and mother? Go Margaret! go, along! Roder. Well now, because Mr. Sacristan thinks so. Margaret. Yes, let me, father! lam still your pet —[she whispers in the Sacristan's ear. as she runs out by him.] I give you thanks dear Mr. Sacristan, [lie nods familiarly to her.] SCENE VII. RODER AND THE SACRISTAN. Sacristan. [Breaks open the letter,] what a mas terly baud your son writes ? So plain and legible! For that he is indebted to me. [Clears his throat and then begins.] ‘My dear father’— “‘Mrpiinit in nil tjjings-—Jkitriil in mitljing;* MACON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 10, 1851. Roder. [Listening very attentively] O good heart ed Fred ! Sacristan. ‘A treaty of peace has just been con cluded, so 1 write you for tlio last time from the field of battle to’— Roder. God be praised! So it is now peace. How it will gladden mother ! Sacristan. ‘To remit you your income which you will be so good as to receive from me.’ Roder. Yes! Saeristan. ‘And as my income has so considera bly increased, it rejoices me to send you twelve dollars in future. Roder. No, I will not, St#u, Every thine; should have its limits ; even your love for me. Now again, Mr. Sacristan. Sacristan. ‘The other day, father, the greatest hap piness befell me, which I have ever experienced in my life, and which I must now relate to you.’ Roder. [Heartily delighted.] Yes! what then? what then ? Sacristan. ‘The King has had the goodness to take me to his table ? Ilodor. To his table ? My Fred at his table ?my conscience! Then to be with all tho nobility! What next ? what next ? Sacristan. ‘He spoke a good deal to me and gave me much valuable advice concerning my deport ment’— Roder. Yes! Sacristan. ‘Finally lie asked me where 1 caine from, where was my place of nativity t And if I had a father ?’ Roder. [Laughs to himself.] Eh !so the King has asked after me ! Good Lord ! What Mr. Sa cristan ! Sacristan. ‘I told the name of our village and yours. ‘Your majesty’ I commenced, ‘your subjects are all your subjects ; and lie is the most worthy—lie has the best noblest heart who posses the most love and loyal ty for his King : and I make bold to say that l have a father who is one of your most loyal subjects. lam proud of him, and I glory in him. Yes ! though poor and humble, I would not exchange him for all the fath ers in the world.’ lloder. [With uplifted hands.] It is as if I saw and heard him. Sacristan. ‘I thank him for all the integrity which I possess and all the zeal which I have in your service. Since my tenderest childhood I have received his commendation, and for my valour and virtue I am in debted to him.’ So I spake, father, and the tears ran down my cheeks, that I had the opportunity of prais ing you in the presence of the King. [Roder weeps also.] The King was moved by my filial love towards you. He took the glass which stood by him, and drank your health aloud before all present at the table, and it occurred to me that I should mention it to you and assure you of his favor.’ Roder. [Springing up.] Oh is it possible, Mr. Sacristan ? The King— Sacristan. Yes, as you hear it. lie has had the goodness to drink your health. Roder. | Runs wHi joy out of the cottage and calls aloud.] Mother! mother ! Let every thing stand up and lie down, and come here \ Rachel. [Answers without.] What, father? Roder. Como here quick, I say, and let me tell you ! Come here quick ! SCENE. VIII. RODER, RACHEL, SACRISTAN. Roder. [Embraces her:] Dear old sweetheart! what sort of a Son have you given me ! Rachel. [Places the breakfast upon the table and goes immediately up the Sacristan, j M hat is it about my child ? I tremble already all over with joy. Is it peace? Roder. Peace, mother! (Removes his arms quick ly, first or.e and then the other.) Why, our son lias eat with the King, and the King has asked about our village and after me ; and lie then told the King, that l was a most loyal subject, and said to him that he would not exchange me for every father in the world. O, I weep for joy ! And then the King has publicly drank my health, and has thereby assured me of bis favor. (Rachel slaps her bands together once.) Yes, dear mother! and now we will again drink our King’s health. Fill up! again! You take that, dear wife! And you take this, dear Mr. Sacristan ! and I will take this! so! And now let us strike together! (He pulls off his cap.) Long live the King ! Sacristan. Long live the King ! Rachel. Long live the King! Sacristan. (Smacks his lips after drinking.) That taste more-ish, my sakes ! Roder. But look here, Mr. Sacristan! You must also write a letter to my son, and tell him again that 1 reverence iny King, and that I thank him and assure him of my love towards him. Don’t forget it now ! Sacristan. Why, father ? We should’nt send such a message! Roder. Why not ? Why should'nt 1 send it ? The King Mr. Sacristan is a man as well as we, and it must therefore rejoice him, I think, to know that he is be loved by men! Rachel. But how, father ? Is it peace ? Roder. To be sure ! lie has written so himself! Rachel. (With pleasure and tenderness, while she places her hand upon Roder’sarm and looks him in the face.) So ho will indeed eotne back, dear father ? Will he indeed come to see us ? and shall we behold him again ?, Roder. Patience, mother ! We will hear it all. Rachel. Oh, that lie may return before Margaret’s wedding! That would indeed double our joy. Roder. Patience! patience! Mr. Saeristan be so good as to read again. But first I must drink my son’s health; and you mother, here’s a glass for you. (Gives her a glass and touches it with his.) He was as the apple of your eye from his cradle, and long may lie live! Rachel. (Blushes.) I thank you, father. Sacristan. (Touches his glass also.) And shall flourish and bloom, ‘like the green bay tree.’ Rachel. I thank you, Mr. Sacristan. Roder. (Places his glass back.) It makes my heart happy when I drink my son’s health ! May God's bless ing rest upon him! Oh !he has given a good testimo ny of me to our King; and I, dear Heaven! (appears quite happy,) I give the my son as a witness ; he lias acted gratefully towards me. He has not been ashamed of my obscurity and poverty. lie has brought joy to himself in honoring his grey headed father. It is not in my power to reward him, but in thine only. Rachel. O read it again, Mr. Sacristan. Perhaps— Sacristan. (Huntsfor the place where he had left off, while he seats himself with Roder, and Rachel, ail attention, steps behind the table.) ‘To take me to his talie’—where was I ? ‘Your health, and it occurred to me’ —Yes here it is! ‘and it occurred to me that I should let you know it, and assure you of his favor. I could not contain myself any longer; for my whole heart was moved. I sprang up. I threw myself at the feet of the King. Your majesty said I, for all the manifest favor which you have shown me.’ SCENE IX. RODER, RACHEL, SACRISTAN, MARGARET. Margaret. (Sobbing and crying.) Oh help, father! help, father ! The recruiting Officer. Roder. llow ? what ? Margaret. (As before.) The recruiting officer, | father— Rachel, (Huns anxious to Margaret.) So he conies after you, does he ? What have you been do ing l Margaret. As I went to see Michael, father— Sacristan. Now we have it! Surely she doats upon Michael! Rachel. Oh Heavens! what a calamity ! Ruder. “\\ hat, by force ! Now, wh ie it is peace ! That is not right. Sacristan. In peace ! while we are at peace ! Is it ever peace if the King’s land, at any moment! Can we ever say we are safe in each other’s love! God have pity upon us ! Roder, (Angrily.) Ila ! be silent, Mr. Sacristan. Let the King alone ! it always cuts me to the heart! Wc force daily o teers into the yoke; and do you not think truly, tfY would be in vain with our steers and our ploYgh, if* wv ourselves did not work l A man like you, and make use of such a speech ! Margaret. Do go now, father ! Do go seek him ; for you can easily help him ! Do be his good father, as you arc mine! for I know certainly that the Seargent will have respect euough for you. All men respect you. Roder. Foolish thing ! As if all men lived in our village ! SCENE X. K VTE, RODER, RACHEL, MARGARET. Kate. 1 can do nothing. lam almost dead with grief. Rachel. Ah, 1 pity you good mother ! Oh that our son was now here, that he might help us! Roder. Hush! It only grieves me, that 1 should be thus disturbed in my best devotion! It would not have been so bad had they told you of it before. He surely will not tako away your only son from thu plough. That would be anew way. I will go thith er and talk with hint. Margaret. And Moo, father. I will go with you. 1 will weep and entreat him so long, that he will be compelled to release him. (Exeunt Itodcr and Mar garet.) SCENE XL RACHEL, KATE, SACRISTAN. Sacristan. (To Kate.) So lovely a widow to be so distressed ! To take the last morsel of bread from your mouth ! Kate. O Mr. Sacristan ! lam so frightened that I tremble from head to foot! Sacristan. (Giving her a stool.) Sit down ! sit down mother! We must not despair in trouble. W e should always hope for the best. Kate Already have they taken away from me two ; of my sons, and my eyes have never since beheld j them. Ah ! 1 will never see this one again. Sacristan. (With consoling tone of voice.) Have patience mother Kate! So good aChristian as you, must know in whom to trust. Rachel. (Who hitherto regards this scene with much impatience.) Heavens ! Iherc is a disturbance in tlie village. Oh, that the old man lias not been un fortunate! If lie only could control Ins passion . Go now after him, dear Mr. Sacristan. Sacristan II J ‘ Rachel. You are-Wf” Ru standing, Mr. Sacris tan, a clergyman. ®'! that Sacristan. Y'cs, So much the worse for rile ! Such, fellows, an- most agreeable to wards the clergy when away from them ; if they could they would hang inc. No! no! mother! I am not such a fool! Stick my nose in the bush, you say, when lam undisturbed here ! In the Devil’s name ! God forgive me the word ! and besides mother, 1 am so cholerick —that would be a sad misfortune. No !no . 1 must have been drinking. Rachel. Are you our friend, Mr. Sacristan, and will you not help us ? Sacristan. Hut consider reason, mother! Only think what my position is! If 1 can give you any con solation, l will do it cheerfully : but help you is out of my power. Help yourself! [to BE CONCLUDED.] American Self-Government. —Mr.Stansbury, for many years a reporter in the House of Representatives for the National Intelligencer, and now the draughts man of the General Land Office, lias been writing a very interesting series of papers for Arthur’s Home Gazette, entitled “ Recollections and Anecdotes of the Presidents of the United States.” He writes with equal force and eloquence, and draws with the facility of a Cruikshank. In a late number of the Recollec tions lie gives a very graphic and stirring account of the House of Representatives on the eventful and exciting occasion of the election by that body of a President of the United States. After describing the intense and ab sorbing interest evinced by every human being in Washington, and the successful opposition of Mr. Mc- Duffie to an attempt to exclude the people from wit nessing the acts of their representatives —that gentle man pledging himself for their orderly deportment while luoking on such a spectacle—the wrier thus pro ceeds : At length the Speaker’s hammer fell. A dead si lence instantly prevailed, and the respective delegation assembled and took their seats around the tables prepar ed for them. It was my privilege, from an elevated position on the right hand of the chair, to enjoy a full view of all the groups; and lhave preserved a rude and hasty sketch which 1 caught pf their positions while the first ballot was proceeding. Each delegation appointed one of their number to act as chairman, collect their votes, and re port the result. The delegates voted by pluralities. Whoever in each received the most votes was reported as the choice of that delegation. There were twenty four of these groups; and when the votes had been gathered in each, they were called upon to report, which they did in succession, viva voce , commencing with Maine. The silence was like that of a sepulchre. Men’s breath was suspended as State after State uttered its voice ; and oh, can I ever forget tire moment when the Speaker, standing up in his place declared, in a clear, sonorous voice that seemed to pierce through hone and marrow, that “ John Q. Adams, having re ceived a majority of the votes cast, was duly elected President of the U. States for four years from the 4th of March next ensuing ?” Then rose such a shout from the galleries as seemed to lift the very dome of the hall. Mr. McDuffie, (whose candidate had been defeated, and whose personal pledge for the good order of the assembly was remem bered by all) sprang up in much excitement from the floor, and, in a voice that rung above all the tumultuous plaudits of the spectators, cried, “Mr. Speaker, I move the gallery be cleared.” The question was put and carried. “ Yes,’’ said a foreign minister to another who stood by his side ; but how are you going to do it?’’ j —a natural question for a European, ignorant of the country and of the people. Here were no -guards— no gendarmes —not even a constable : how was the order to be enforced ? lie soorfsaw, and, while he gazed, seemed penetra ted with speechless wonder. No sooner had the Speak er given the order, “ The Sergeant-at- Arms will clear the galleries,” than an active, slender young man, of graceful form, and with a brilliant black eye, started from his place, and mounting (I did not see how, to the broad stone cornice which runs all round the hall, in front and below the breastwork of the galleries, mo tioned with his arm to the dark, dense, and almost suf focated inass of human beings before him, exclaiming, “ Gentlemen, the Speaker orders the galleries to be cleared ; you must retire ; clear the galleries.” And at this word, like a flock of quiet sheep, when the gate of their pen is thrown open, out went the entire crowd, without a word of complaint or remonstrance, and in an incredibly short time not a soul was left behind. The foreign minister lifted up his hands in amazement, and exclaimed, “ Wliat a government ! What a people !” The Master and Slave;—YVe have re cently been told an incident that occurred a few weeks since, in the town ol- State ol SI,OOO for a friend, who died, and he was called upon for the money.— Having no other means, he was compelled to dispose of a negro slave —a favorite young man—worth that sum. He told tAidjor of liis necessity; whereupon the faithful boy advised his master to put him up at a raffle-100 chances, at $lO each; and Cudjor took a subscription list around those to whom he preferred to be sold, go as to secure himsclfan acceptable master. A gentleman purchased a chance and presented it to Cudjor; and when the raffle came off, Cudjor threw the highest, and, of course, won himself. But ho said he did not want to be free, if he was sure of a good master; and forthwith proposed to raffle off himself again, if the same subscribers would take chances Sixty only agreed; but Cudjor said he was not u'orth more than S6OO. and that he would stand at that price. He pocketed the s6oo,ofcourse. His old master took achance, and had the good luck to win him back; at which Cudjor was exceedingly pleased, brag ging that himself and his master had made 81, 000 by “tho easiest work he ever did.’’ His master told him he was free; but he said. “I don’t want to be freer than l am, and will stay with you.” An abolitionist could not persuade him to leave his master. NY bat a commentary is this anecdote—which we are satislied is true ; upon tho conduct of the pseudo philanthropists who seek to make the slave hate his master. Chloroform, according to statements recent ly laid before the French Academy of Science, is found to be an antiseptic of marvellous vir tue, preventing animal decomposition alter death, or promptly checking it il already com menced. But its use and value, it would ap pear, do not stop here. The french Govern ment having offered a prize of 4,000 francs for tho discovery of a substitute for Quinine in the treatment of fevers. Prof. Delioux, of Rochefort, recommends chloroform as a pow. erful succedancum. Periodic fevers are com mon at Rochefort, and he treated numerous cases in the hospital there with such regularity of success that he feels warranted in recommen ding it as a substitute for Quinine. 11c gave it in doses ol from S to flu grains, according to the severity ol svnptoms. mixed with syrup and water. It was administered before the access ot lever,and its use continued tor several days.— Balt. Amer. A Fact Business Men must Learn. — You may get a sign as long as your store, and it may be emblazoned with the most reck less disregard of expense; you may swing out a hoot literally big enough to contain Goody Two Shoes and progeny, or a tin hat which shall appear as large to us as did Gulliver’s to the Lilliputians, you may flourish monstrous shirts, and horse collars in proportion; you may pile up mountains of “late arrivals,” and bid defiance to the nuisance act, by crowding the side walk w ith home made boxes marked horn “London,” and from Paris; you may string together all the hats and umbrellas, and hang them to the breeze from the topmost story; you may do all this, and not succeed in business. You may go further, you may hire the sleekest faced, most lackadaisical “loves of boys about town, and furnish them with pomatum and perfumes exclusive of salary; you may post the most ingenious dummies in your doorway, and line their whalebone ribs with the choicest production of Cashmere—-over the lelt; you may do even more, and rival London trades men, by hiring a hall dozen well dressd loafers to decoy’ purchasers, by looking attentively through the show window', or buying goods in the presence of customers and paying you in your own money twice what they are worth; you may do all this, and whatsoever else your heart can conceive, and yet not be successful. We do not say that devices of that sort may not enhance your business, but w T e do say that if the money lavished in such ways were ex pended injudicious advertising in the newspa pers, you w r ould arrived at general notoriety in the city and country; 1 , which is all that you want; by a much shorter and more certain route. —Merchants’ Ledger. A Slave Case. —On Friday morning, a slave answering to the name ot Matilda, be longing to the estate ol a decedent in Louis iana, named Swain, was brought before Judge Kelly, in the Court of Quarter Sessions, upon a corpus, at the instance of a committee of (he Abolition Society. It appeared that the slave Mat ilda came to Philadelphia, with her mistress, Mrs. Augustine Swain, the widow of decedent, a short time since. This fact was admitted by the representative of the owner. Judge Kelly therefore notified the slave that under the law of Pennsylvania she was iree, and could go where she pleased, or could make such an arrangement with her former mistress as to the conditions upon which she would ren er her further service as they jointly could agree upon. The parties acquiesced in this decision. A brother of the mistress informed the court that they had been taking measures to liberate the slave. — Pennsylvania- Good Men Departed.— The Charleston (Va.) Spirit of Jefferson records the decease of John Yates and Bushrod C. Washington, Esqrs. Mr. Yates died oil the 9th of July, in the county of Cumberland,''England, whither he had gone to visit the ho£je of his fathers. He was aged about seventy-five years: was born in England, through he emigrated to this country some fifty odd years ago. Mr. Wash ington died on Sunday last, in the sixty-first j year of his age. These gentlemen have long been regarded as the wealthiest of Jefferson county; enterprising, humane and benevolent. If you do not mind the consequences, they will be very apt to remind you. Every fool can find faults that a great many wise men can’t reltiedy. He that finds a thing, steals it if he endeav ors not to restore it. Mr. Conscience is tho only one whose good opiniou is worth striving for. He that blows the dust, fills his own eye. Every body’s business is nobody’s business, From the Sacannah Republican. The Right of Scccsslou. It is not our purpose now to examine the doctrine of the Right of Secession. This we have already .tout iu our paper of the 3d ultimo. Our object is to endeavor to relieve our opponents, of much of the unnecessary labor they have imposed upon themselves, to prove and establish the existence of a right which nobody denies. True, our opponents assert tbat Mr. Cobb and the Constitulonal Union par:v deny the right of secession, and they call us Federalists, ConsolicUtionists, Subrnis sionrsis, &<*. They are trying to make the people be lieve all they say, to get the power into their hands for the gratification of their ambitiou to establish their grand scheme of a “Southern Confederacy.” The disuiiionists have ransacked the records of the past, and reproduced letters, speeches, and resolutions, and through tlieir presses and their orators, have discours ed upon them learnedly and lengthily, to establish the doctrine that the people have not divested themselves of an inalienable right—namely, the right to resist op pression, iu the best wy and by the best means in tlieir power. Among other documents produced are a set of resolutions said to ha ve been drafted by John Ran dolph, of Virginia. They have not, however, once quoted from, or referred to Gen. Juekson's proclama tion of 1832. Oli no! The second of Randolph’s resolutions, upon which great stress is laid, is ns follows : “• Resolved , That Virginia has never parted with the right to recall the authority to delegated, for good and sufficient cause, nor with the right to judge the sufficiency of such cause , and to SECEDE from the confederacy whenever we shall find the benefit ex ceeded by its evils —union being the means of securing happiness, and not an end, to which it should be sacri ficed. ’’ It will be seen that this resolution affirms that, for good and sufficient cause, a State, herself being the judge, has the right to recall her delegated author and has the right to secede when she finds that tqito benefits are exceeded by the evils of General Govern ment so as to make it oppressive. We think that the Disunionists need not have gone so far back into the records of the past to have established this proposition. The people of Georgia and the Constitutional Union party have established this doctrine for themselves. And if the fire-eaters of Georgia have really “ioieed’’ in good faith to the Georgia platform, and are standing upon it, they certainly have no cause forgo much clam or, nor need they labor so hard to establish a proposition already settied. The fourth resolution of the Georgia convention of December, 1860, reads as follows : “Fourthly, That the State of Georgia, in the judg ment, of this convention, will and ought to resist, even (as a last resort) to a disruption of every tie which binds her to this Union, any action of Congress, upon the subject of slavery in the District of Columbia, or iu places subject to the jurisdiction of Congress, incompat ible with the safety, the domestic tranquility. the rights and the honor of the slaveholding States, or any act suppressing the slave trade between slaveholding Slates, or any refusal to admit as a State any territory hereaf ter applying, because of the existence of slavery there in ; or any act prohibiting the introduction of slaves into ihe terrirories of Utah and New Mexico ; or any act repealing or materially modifying the laws now in force for the recovery of fugitive slaves.” Thus it will he seen, that our own people have for themselves settied the question of secession. They have not only asserted the right, but they have gone farther than any record our opponents have produced, for they have actually assigned the causes w hich shall justify the exercise of the right—whether such exercise of it shall be peaceable or revolutionary. Surely, then, if we understand the spirit, intelligence and patri ism of our own people, tlieir ow n resolution is of more binding force and effect upon them, than the dicta of any man, or any set of men, of former lime. Further than this—we have another authority, nearer at home than that of John Randolph. It is the declaration of Howell Cobb himself. Hear what he avs to this |>oint, in his letter of acceptance: “ Should, however, the time ever arrive when the conditions of her remaining in the confederacy are deg radation and inequality , I shall be prepared wiili her “to resist, with all the means which a favoring Provi dence may place at her disposal,” even “(as a last re sort,') to a disruption of every tie which binds her to the Union,” any and every power which seeks to put upon her such debasing terms. Nor am ! particular by what name this resistance may be characterized—whether secession, revolution, or any thing else —for no one can for a moment doubt, tbat should this fearful collision come, the issue will bo decided only by the arbitrament of the sword. Where constitutions end, revolutions be gin.” Upon the principle therefore, that the greater con tains the less, we think that the Resolution of the Geor gia Convention and the declaration of the Hon. Howell Cobb have asserted in all its length and breadth, the right of secession, for cause, and have set forth the causes which shall justify the exercise of that right; and if Mr. Cobb has endorsed this affirmation—and we have shown that lie has—the question occurs, why are McDonald and his party so clamorous about estab lishing a right from the records of dead men, which lias in the most solemn manner been asserted by the living people for themselves ? The answer to this question will enable the people fully to understand the true issue between the parties, and the motives of the Triumvi rate, Uliett, McDonald and Quitman, aud their cohorts. The Georgia Convention declared that the late Com promise measures of Congress furnish no cause for se cession or resistance. That whilst she dues not wholly approve of the Compromise, Georgia “will abide by it as a permanent adjustment of this sectional controver sy.” Upon this declaration the disunionists take issue with the people. They affirm (see McDonald’s letter of acceptance) that tho “‘Compromise was a most flagrant violation of our rights,—a fraud upon an injured peo pie,” and in his letter to James Cantrell—in the very face of the declaration of the Convention that Georgia would abide by it as a final adjustment, —Judge Mc- Donald with the greatest coolness and contempt for the will of the people thus expressed, says “that he (and his party of course) know of no adjustment by Con gress of the slavery and territorial questions.” “ The measures so called, ” says he, “ contain not a single element of an adjustment ” —thus most emphatically giving the lie to the people. Ilis presses too, take upon themselves to denounce the action of the Convention as a ridiculous farce, a discredit and a cowardly submission to disgrace and degradation. Hence they say that the Compromise measures of Gongrtss furnish good and sufficient cause for immediate resis tance by secession. Here then is really the issue be fore the people. Not the abstract right of secession, for that is settled as we have shown but shall we resist or acquiesce in the Compromise measures ? That is the question. The people are for acquiescence—the disun ionists are for resistance. Their mode of resistance is by secession, peacfable secession, and yet they call Peaceable Secession resistance. This is the plot laid by a triumvirate to [ireak up the government of the United States. The secessionists in Georgia and Car olina agree that there is good and sufficient cause for resistance ; they agree as to the mode of resistance, aud they are pre-determined, if they get the power , to enter upon the untried experiment of secession and a * • Southern Confederacy as the only means- o’ M security fiom their imaginary rongsand d:-.-’ : is a legitimate conclusion, that they would not I clamorous about a riylit if they do not feel a j necessity to exercise it. TLe panics in both StatcsH determined to exercise the right for past causes. There ae two parties iu South Carolina. the immediate secession of the Suit-, as they fear ■ cannot get the co-operation of other S.at -s — particularly. That party is for separate State as they are certain that it will force Georg a difficulty. The other party is for delay—for a ation. They say, wait till McDonald is elected. event will tell a tale.’ If McDonald is elected, H shall get the co-operation of Georgia without <JoH and without she dishonor of forcing her to !u !;j : Cobb is, however, elected, we cannot calculate up co-operation of the State—and then it will bcii’ secede ourselves and thus force her to help us. 1"H wait, however, *ay they, until “the tale is told.'” secession party of Georgia is composed of rnen of sorts of Carolina secessionists— un:nr.-. lute : • . s and co-opcrationists. They herd together in and sympathise with both parties in Oaroliua, aiming at the same thing—a disruption of the Unß| and a s ‘Southern Con'ederation.'’ They say that ■ Georgia platform does not represent the will of tha nH jority of the people of Georgia. That the people wfl panic stricken and that was the reason w hy they submission men whose action was so disgraceful unworthy. They hold out to the people of that tlie people of Georgia have not ratified the of die base and submissive Convention of 1850. ThMa say tliat the question of %t ratification’’ or ‘* no tion” is involved in the coming elections, tlie resultH which will overwhelm the base submissionist to d:BB grace and degradation, “with a torrent of —and hence under such assurances a move has been made in Charleston by co-operationists to “wateM and wait” until the election of McDonald has told t.ifl tale. We think we have established then, from th? forego® ing facts, the following points : Ist. That the doctrine of secession has been asserteß and established by the. people for themselves, to be exfl ercised for good and sufficient causes, which causes the® have stated. 2nd. That the Compromise measures furnish nfl good and sufficient cause for secession. 3J. That the right of secession having been establish-fl ed, is not in issue before the people. 4th. That the true issue is, “ Shall the people otß Georgia acquiesce in, or resist, the Compromise meas-B urea”? sth. That the Union party are for acquiescence upon the terms of the Georgia Resolutions. 6th. That the Dieunionists consider the Comprom.se as containing no element of adjustment, a* a discredit and a ridiculous farce, and hence they do not stand upon the Georgia platform. 7th. That of consequence, they are for resistance by secession, and in co-operation with Carolina, peaceably j if McDonald is elected—at all events, whether lie is elected or not. 8;h. That Carolina is now waiting to hear the tala ; that our elections will tell—w hether the people will rat ify, or not, the action of the convention of ISSO, so that she may act singly, or in co-operation with Georgia. | And— 9th. That the end and ahnofbolh parties in Carolina, \ and the Disunionists in Georgia, are to subvert this glorious government, and build upon its ruins a “South ern Confederacy,” to gratify the ambition of tlie tri umvirate, Rhett, McDonald and Quitman. Let tlie Secessionists now say no more about the right of secession—but prove, if they can, that the gov ernment is oppressive and tyrannical, and that there is good and sufficient cause for its overthrow. To tba law and to the testimony, gentlemen. Sentiments Offered at the Anti-Secession Ceix- BHATION AT GREENVILLE, S. C., July 4TH, 1951. By P. 1.. Duncan—The Right of Seces sion : A revolutionary, not a constitutional right—one suited only to Southern Rights Associations of the South, and the higher law parly of the North. Well may the Syracuse Convention applaud South Carolina for her pa triotism. By Capt. Geo. C. Cunningham, of Dam burg, S. C.—Ex-Gov. J. 11. Hammond: Ado voted patriot and able statesman. May South Carolina have an eye to the pearls that she has cast to the swine. By Col. T. P. Brockman—Let the people of South Carolina have light, and their patri otism and good sense will cause them to es chew the folly and madness of seperate State secession. By N.C. Tuell —May abolitionism take its flight, and find not where to rest its foot, till it lands in the bottom of Mount Vesuvius, and may seperate State secession accompany it. By Capt. J. W. Brooks—The Mississippi and its Tiibutary Maters: An insuperable barier against a dissolution of the Union. By Perry E Hawkins—The Rights of the South and the Union of the States: Alike in violable and inseparable. By C. J. Elford—The Farm, the Work shop and the Factory: Tripod on which rests our national happiness and independence. By L. S. Cunningham— The secessionist who would seek the protection of England, and bend the knee to royalty', merits the scorn and contempt ofeierv true republican. By B. F. Perry—T ‘he State, the South and L nion: Our political trinity, indivisible and inseparable, one and the same—our country —•and all attempts at disconnection sacrile gious. By \\ ii,lis Benson, Esq.—Northern Ag : gressioaaud Seperate Secession: Two wrongs never makes one right. By Barnett Stratham —Hon. Robert Barnweit Rhett: The profound statesmanship displayed in his plan of carrying out Free Trade without ships, and his cheap, novel, and highly honorable scheme of raising a revenue from commerce with the States, entitle him to the gratitude of all future financiers. He should at once be placed in charge of the Treasury Department ot some equally novel and experimental Republic.. By a Guest—Political Proscription and Per secution: The tools with which designing demagogues lbrge the fetters of tyranny. We hear their clanking on the plains of Caro lina. By Facan E. Martin—The people of Greenville District: The Macedonian Phalanx —brave, generous and patriotic—the first to hurl back the fiery ball of Secession to the low country Parishes where it originated. By A. B. Walurii* —South Carolina, with two war steamers, never can beat the stars and stripes into rags. By Davis Hunt— The revival of Brigade Encampments, and the appropriation of mon ey by the Legislature to purchase munitions of war: Two of the most barefaced impositions that were ever put on the shoulders of a free and enlightened people. NO. 1