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VOL. XIV. THE GEORGIA JEFFERSONIAN ts t-ÜBLISIIED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY WILLAM CLINE, At Two Dollars and Fifty Cents per an num, or Two Dollars paid in advance. ADVERTISEMENTS are inserted nt OXt per square, fr the first insertion, and ■fttfTt o€./V TS per square, tor each insertion thereafter. A reasonable deduction will he made to those who advertise by the year. All advertisements not otherwise ordered, w# be continued til! forbid. ft&sJLEB OF LAXDS by Administrators, Executors or Guardians are required lij law to he tield on the first Tuesday in the month, between the. hours o! ten in the forenoon and three in tin afternoon, at tire Court-House, in the county m ‘which the land is situated. Notice of these sale, must be given in a public gacclle FORTY DAYS pr<>’’io'i< !o the (lay ofsalft. •8 ILES OF XEGHOE'S must he made at pub lic auction on the first Tuesday of the month, be tween the. usual hours of sale, at the place ol pub lic sales m the county where the letters Testa ncn!ar/, of Adtraiftsir l ion or Guardianship may qavo been irrartted; first irivintj FORTY DAYS notice thereof re one of the public gazettes of this .State, and r.t'fhe court house who e such sales are ‘to t-e held. Notice for the sale of Personal Property must he given tn like manner FORTY DAYS previous ■to the day of sale. ■Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an estate tiiusi ho published FORTY DAYS. •Notice that application will he made to the Court VifGidmary Jbr i.kaye to sell land must be pub lished tor TITO M OXT I IS, Not ice for i.f.avf. to sell negroes must he published TIVO JUOXTftS before any order ab solute shall pc made thereon by the Court, 4JITATIOXS for Letters of Administration, lnust he published THIRTY DAYS; for Dismission from Administration, monthly six moeths; for Dismission from Guardianship, forty day ’, it ules forthe foreclosure of Mortgage must he puhfa'ieil monthly for four months, for estab lishing lost paper:-’ tor the full space of three months; for compelling titles from Lxeeutors or Administ-ators, where a bond has been given !,\ he disc i o- ! tire full space of THREE MONTHS. Business Dircctovn. MtM H. WHITFIELbjT Attorney at Law, Kawldnsville. Pulaski County, Geo. Maret. il. 1862 1-.ini. R, wTMoCUNE, ATTOUNSSY AT LAW, GRIFFIN, GEORGIA. f );]!{'i: up-stairs in Chapman’s brick building next d,n#r west of Bedd &. Cos. .lanuarv 15. 1852 3 Attorney at Law, A TL A N T A , GEO II G I A . Aptil 8,1852. 15 —ly F. W. A. DOYLEj 1 r £’ ‘A’ &Id Y A r r I„ AW , OFFERS hi# protessiooat services to ll>e I’ul> lie. All hu.-iness entrusted lo his lUiinagemc will meet with the most prompt attention. Rea#on siiile deductions will lie made in fees, in proportion to the amount of business so entrusted, ota C o i Solomon street, opposite the Bap ist Church. C Attention, REFERENCES < Perseverance, ( Promptitude. Gri lin, March, 1852. 12-If henryHendrlckT A T T O R NE Y A T la A\V , Jackson, Butts County, Ga. Fehroarv, 1852. L P, WATKINS, ATTORNEY AT LAW McDonough, Henry Ccuuty, Ga. February 2, BOMBERS & HARRIS, _ ATTORNEYS AT LAW A. L. Borders, Gr>flin, Ga. West Harris, Zebulon, Ga. Mare It 5, 1,852 50 —| y 11. & G J GREEN & MARTIN, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. David IV. Martin,) /-.. it ben J. Green, 1 Gnffin,Ga. gfi art ford Green, Zcbtiion, Ga. M>y 28.1852 22 ” OR. 11= W, BROWN, OFFICE ON SOLOMON STREET Opposite the Baptist Church, April. 1852. 18 1, MUNSON STELL, A 7 T O R N E Y AT LAW , Me Bminiigh.Ga. maftSHALL HOUSE. SAVANNAH, GEORGIA WM üBH VSOX, Proprietor October 4, 1852 41-ly A. i3. DU LIN, COTTON FACTOR, No 74 BAY-STREET, f >- ’9 (41) _ SAVANXAU Dr. M. J. DANIEL, GRIFFIN, GA., )iiicc i!i New Brick Building on New Orlcan St. Oppoate Planters Hotel An gust I. 1852 32—ly PP.Si£ITKE ’ >?EETH 1T ®2A'^ 9 ftftTotJL'J respectfully i, llo rm all who arc in * * heed ol lull sets r.r partial seta of Teeth, and who wish them put up with skill and experi ence warranted to answer every purpose requi red, that they can now he supplied at short notice, and with the Mine style put up upon u hcaiitdu inetiilio mao, which took the premium ovcral d'liens ot the kind ai I lie late Fair in Macon, also the First Premium at the late Fair in Atlanta. Dr. C. has lately made arrangements so that persons living in the country, or in any of the adjacent towns, can, if they wish, command his services tree of charge, winch will secure them against 1 1<- pcftiv imn isdons pra< tieed'!iy iiiner.tnt quack l.ul fra ly lr .verse the cjmin v. fcScpt ®l)f ©corgift Jcfferstmiim. (Education. TO THE CITIZENS OF GRIFFIN. My Friends, —The commencement is with myself, the end with onr State and country; objects greatly contrasted in mag nitude and interest. ‘The flight of time leaves its impression on every thing.— “Fuit Illium” once was, is the doom of all. Nearly seventy circuits of the sun have made me, as well as some of you, a monu ment of their wasting power; with his keen edged scythe, time has shorn the plumes ol my imagination, clipped the pinions of my fancy, and with his wings shadowed my intellectual vision. Effete is written on all my faculties; gray hairs cover my head, and the tremor, which anticipates dissolution, teaches me that I will soon be a disembodied existence. lam left with out an ambition to gratify, by success or apphui.se; without an aspiration beyond a quiet, retired, and peaceful close of life, ex empt from care and emancipate from debt. But my friends, it has seemed good to me, in the midst of the ardent devotion of all classes to the cause, that I should offer to your consideration some remarks on Edu cation. It is hoped that a willing spirit to render a mite of aid, will ensure an in dulgent reception of them. One who lived three thousand years ago, and whose name has ever since lived in fame, while myriads of beings of like form and feature, have passed from memo ry by the oblivious tide of time, so justly es timated the natural and political rights of man, that he proclaimed in poetic measure this enduring truth: ‘‘To spor.k liis ihftngli's, Is a freeman’s light. In p> > vrar, in couiict', nr in fight,”,. Tinder the protection of this first principle and law of our nature, I purpose to write my thoughts, crude as they may be, on the subject intimately connected with this an cient truth. Expect no logical argument; the scholastic laws of composition will be relaxed, in order to say the most in brevity. Freedom of speech and the cur j rent of thought spurn artificial rules among i :l free people, as we profess to be, and 1 hope, its yet, avc are indeed. Our theme is indeed one of vast extent, affecting for weal or woe, all the imaginable interests of our existence. It is an orb, one ex tremity of whose diameter rests on earth, the other ever seeking its position in eter nity; its circumference enlarging and en larging forever and forever-aioHe-w, aionon. On earth it is the province of man to dis charge to fellow man its sacred obligations. Beyond our sphere of sublunary existence, angels and the Father of spirits perfect it, by bestowing the power of intuition in the world of spirituality and pure intellectuality. Me have been able to explore only the minutest part of this great circle, and will freely communicate the few discoveries out dim light permitted us to make, and refer you to others more instructive, more lumi nous, of stronger miri ‘ Jcarcr light. I’octs paint the subject in such colors as the l'rism of their fancy refracts; orators, as their maginatiou under the rules of rhet oric suggests figures and imagery to their minds. Practical men treat it according to the dictates of common sense—all aim to enforce its importance, but the latter make utility the desideratum. Philoso phers give it a tripplc division, physical, moral and intellectual. Upon these, singly and jointly, volumes have been written by the wise and good of every age, and much common place might now by prosed. But the first we will assign to the medical and gymnastic schools, the second and third to those departments of science with which they are usually classified, ethics and dia noetics. To these divisions permit us to add a fourth, scholastic, for this is now our peculiar province, and the present object of this community. Before we take it up, however, we crave your patient attention while we generalize a few propositions and arguments. Man is a rational and responsible being, and his life probationary, lie is therefore a proper subject and susceptable of in struction. Grant the terms, and the obli gation arises to bestow it on him, and once existing it cannot be cancelled, for it is of a moral nature and must be immutable. We believe that iu the design of liis crea tion, he only fulfils his destiny, and it is a glorious destiny.. He is made a little lower than the angels. Misapprehend me not. We are neither a stoic nor necessi tarian. The wisdom and goodness of his Creator has purposed that his destiny should pursue its tenor and complete its end, by the operation of secondary causes. These leave to him the consciousness of freedom of volition and consequent action; hence his destiny is alternative, but certain in its ultimatum. Education is a seconda ry cause greatly influencing this, and thus its importance and indispensibility are demonstrated, obligatory on every parent, man, woman, community and State or gov ernment. lie is endowed with faculties, by the active energies of which, his rela tionship to an improved condition of being is prosecuted to higher and still higher degrees. The structure of the human or gan of perception and reason demonstrates its capacity of increased development; hence we infer the mental unprovability of man’s nature, and the design of Deity” of his perfcctability. Comparative anatomy justifies the conclusion. Here there is a cogent argument of the importance of Ed ucation as a secondary cause in the fulfil ment of our destiny, and of the imperative duty of society to diffuse its benefits and; .blessings on all its members. We need not hesitate in this community to deduce an urgument from ‘ a proposition iu holy writ. The spirit of man ascendcth, of the brute descondcth, suyß tnc qoVi of inspired wisdom. Their idiocy ncracy is adapted to their . and opposite dispensation.— ihe latter is carefully fitted by discipline to answer arid accomplish the object of its creation, though after its proper use, and at its dissolution, it merely multiplies the particles of dust; the other or former, when he puts off this mortal coil, mounts on se raphs’ wings to habitations suited to the expansive powers of the soul—aud shall he not be disciplined for so glorious a des tiny? Who shall deny? Is not this an ir-, refutable proof of the duty and obligation of education? But my friends this mode of argument, though it might be continued to prolixity, may bo deemed too metaphy sical, we will therefore conclude it and GRIFFIN, (GA.) THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 20, 1853. move on earth among sensible and tangible objects. Let us, my friends, take a coup d'aeiJe of the field of nature. In all her manipulal tions, what do we observe in her botanic sand zoological kingdoms? That her univer al law is gradual and progressive devcl opement. Every thing receives a tutor age from her plastic hand, from the vital germ and swcHing bud to the expanded leaf ( and full blovrii flower, from the flower to’ the full ripe fruit and towering tree, from the ova to the larva, from these to the winged bird or gilded insect, from quick-, cned embryo to the terrific mammoth, every step progressive, all is culture, under some controlling and superintending power, in stinct or genius, nature’s school-master. From these analogies may we not draw maxims of wisdom for our guidance rela tive to human tuition? God enjoins it on us to study in his universal laboratory, to scan the bright page of nature, his chief se condary cause. Here we learn every thing is taught, and by analogy ourselves ought to and must be taught. Shall man be ex empt from this general law r , he wiiom his creator pronounced lord paramount of this nether world, not to be educated to qual ify -him for his sceptred vicegerency? he, the only being to remain unimproved, from birth to manhood, from the cradle to the grave, except the mere explication of his material properties, possessed in common with every block or rock in his path, save animation? Then, my friends, all nature proclaims the necessity of education. So affirms the Mantuan bard — “Felix, qni po tuit rerum cognosccre cans as.” Another argument arises from the r,ow er to infix in himself what is not aUirst I con-uiai tO uir nature, wo meyn habit,! which is sometimes called second nature, and man a creature of habit, a bundle of habits. °Tis education forms the human mind, As the twig is bent the tree’s inc'ined!’ “Train up a child in the v r ay he should go, and when he is old he will not depart therefrom.” Both poverbs affirm the flex ibility and the impressibility of man’s tem perament, and this again is a strenuous | argument for education. It is closely al lied to habit and may be its synonyme.— The one pursues the other, pari passu, and is also a secondary cause affecting our des tiny, appointed to qualify us easily to re ceive those plianccs and take those posi tions, which are requisite to accomplish the ends Providence has in view in his na tural and moral government, and as moral agents renders us responsible for the faith ful discharge of the duty of education; for aided bv flexibility under the dictate and direction of reason, education can fix or eradicate good or evil propensities. In close connection with this, another enforcement of duty springs from virtue and vice. We give you no logical defini tion of these terms, will not say whether they be entities or nonentities, abstracts or concretes, relative cr.independent kk'ft". Philosophers have impaired their wits in such disquisitions, refined ideas till they had none. The world of common sense knows well by their exeinplication in prac tice, the existence of both the happiness of the one, misery of the other, recognise them as opposite principles growinglnto eontrarious habits. Which shall* we choose—the choice is important for time and eternity? They too are secondary causes, and in their application toward fulfilling our destiny are much subject to our owii direction. They were once deifi ed, house-hold gods. Which shall be our guardian genius? When the election is made, education will, we assure you, per fect the worship of either. In plain lan guage, education is essential to purity of j mind; it is the fountain in which the stains of vice are washed out. It will render us virtuous or vicious, consequently happy or miserable, reputable or infamous. Jlow necessary then to attend to it in the spring season of life —A poet aptly says, ‘By virtuous education, our lives discolored by our present woes, In progressive age, m iv st 1!I be bright with li .ppy hours.’’ Another argument is, that iu the aro ma of our literature, we embalm the mem*- oryof our patriots, our great and good men. Their lives, their actions and coun sels, which serve for future guidance, arc perpetuated on the historic page and re joice iu immortality from the indelibility of its traces. Manor in nostra, nostra res al entnr, sennonibus crescent , Ulcrarum monu ■ mentis inveterascent ct corrobora bunlior.” We have few or no breathing statues, let tered urns or sculptured columns; but to our patriot-fathers, statesmen, warriors, jurists, orators, will bo raised unfading monuments by the genius of education.— While even brass and marble moulder and dissolve, the characters of a national litera ture defy the impress of time. Achilles’ fame is imperishable, because the Iliad can never die, . because the thoughts of the poet like lus mind are immortal yet his monumental urn has long since passed away from Tenedos, the lonely isle of the “far sounding sea,” “polw pUoisboio thalas es.’’ When think you the names of Wash ington and of Napoleon will pass from earth? Only when the light of education and historic literature, and nature sink to gether into chaos. In this way, education exerts a powerful ennobling influence over a magnanimous people. Its influence on the fortunes.of men in life is a prolific source of pleasant considerations iu its favor. The casualties of life, prosperous or adverse, arc much subject to its control. It adorns the one, or alleviates tile other, tempers tbe zest of | prosperity, mollifies the griefs of adversity, moderates the pride of success and buoys the spirit under the pressure of misfor tune. Great is the beauty of life,’ yet many of its hours lag heavily with the ig norant and unemployed. To such, soli tude is intolerable, and no torture is sharp er than mental inanity, or the ghosts of murdered hours, whichmaunt the conscien ces of the idle. But the man of cultivated intellect is never less alone, than when a lonc. Think, Sir Walter Scott was ever solitary? With the magic wand of chast ened imagination, he could conjure spirits , from the vasty deep, fill the space around him with disembodied existences, of friends and relatives, heroes ‘and sages, and hold sweet converse. Or lie could take his stand on the narro.w isthmus, between time and eternity/review the long retinue of hazy and shadowy forms as they* retire into the dim vista of the one, or anticipate with ecstacy the beauty and brightness of the other. To the mind purged by educa tion of all grosser appetites, such reveries are delightful, because they are like angels’ thoughts and foretel of angelic association, and whisper to the soul its immortal na ture, for immortality ahme can conceive such thoughts. | Eff tnind's flag, when by choice or wer, placed or immured in ‘ solitude? Ask the spirit of Raleigh in the tower of London, of Mar montel in the Bastile, of Tasso in the dun geon of Farara, of Cervantes in a Spanish prison, of Milton in exile, of Lafayette in Olmuts, and they will tell you. But come w r e nearer home. I appeal to you, ye generous souled women of the South, yes, to the assembly of female beauty and intelligence in our day, for their esti mate of education. Do they not constant ly show ns how much they ‘ value positive over adventitious merit? Be the young gallant ever so v destitute es this world’s wealth, yet beside the sons of fortune he maintains his stand. “Among the rest young Edwin bowed.” Have he virtue and education, they reward him with a ruby lip, the lilly hand and faithful heart, recognising the perfect equivalent of wealth and science,nay the superiority of the latter, bless their warm hearts and democratic souls! David the son of a humble shop-/ herd, himself a shepherd. Was taught by I Samuel the phets m aiofch. What of him? King kaul desired him sos a sop-in-law, the prin cess Miehal loved him unpossessed of wealth. Permit me here as a short epi sode to refer my fair readers to the last efyarptcrof of a well educated lady. you have the wise man’s opinion, and he was a royal gal lant and great admirer of your sex, in this respect the greatest Mormon in ancient days. In order to acquire an enlarged capaci ty for true happiness, it must be a chief duty to discipline the mind by education. Literature enlarges, and science strength ens the mind of men. Under all circum stances, it inspires tranquility, patience, composure, beneficence, charity, modesty and peace, and resists the impressions of trouble and anxiety from extraneous causes. The educated man divests himself of every prejudice against his own countrymen, and citizens or subjects of other lands, and views them as they really are, his brethren; he quarrels not with them for their climate, their conventional manners or their go vernment, consequently can enjoy himself everywhere. He is never esteemed a for eigner in foreign countries, and though he may have lost friends in one place, he will find them in another; in every country he will be esteemed as a citizen, and every where be able to despise the casualties of fortune. On this are based all those in terests, which flow from the cultivation of cultural andTofflfu^cial. All those affec tions which make up the st’.tn of pleasure in human intercourse, conjugal, pafC’dal, filial, social, are enhanced, refined, attuned and harmonized by its influence. The use ful arts and sciences and polite literature look to education for their very continu ance. We all know the effects upon the moral and political world iu the medieval age, when the light of science was extin guished in the darkness of bigotry and superstition, and men became autometons of tyranny and priestcraft. Inline, edu cation is a property the sheriff can never take, a bank whore -no bills are protested, not liable to insolvency, and when houses, lauds, negroes, money and friends are all gone, it remains to us a sure capital.. JLcc stadia adolascentiam alunt, sencdntm oblcc tant, secu ndas res oriiant, adversis perfugl um ct solatium prabent, delcctaut domi, nan impedient foris, pernoddnt nobiscum, pere grinautur, rusticantur. Here we close the series of arguments, and recommendation of education. In our next we will take up our fourth division. Education scholastic, and its best method. We will discuss it in its popular form, F. D. C. January 10th, 1853. jk. ~ - * Tho I-kdiid at Jamaica. A late number of the New York He rald portrays in the darkest colors the ruin brought upon the Island of Jamaica naturally one of the most productive on ihe globe —by the act of the British Parliament emancipating the slaves of the planters. The negroes once freed, to induce them to work more than enough to make a bare subsistence, became ini-, possible. Labor having failed, magnifi cent sugar and coffee estates are yearly becoming worthless; and the prospect instead of growing brighter is day by day becoming more discouraging. Statistics, recently collected, show that of two hun dred and thirty-one sugar estat. s> valued, in 1841, at nearly eight millions and a half of dollars, one hundred and sixtv three have been totally, and twenty par tially abandoned, within the period of a few years. Their value, in 1841, was two millions and a half of dollars. Du ring the same time, of one hundred and thirty-two cattle pens, valued at one mil lion and a half, one hundred and twenty two have been totally, and ten partially abandoned. Buch are the (workings of abolition ! In the conclusion of its arti cle the Herald remarks : “ The Isiauwhich some twenty years ago was the most wealthy, prosperous and productive of the West India Islands, is to-day impoverished, bankrupt, its trade and commerce anni hilated, its soil uncultivated, and its natu ral products neglected What caused this sad and wonderful change from pros perity to adversity? Every one knows the reason. Ii was, first, the passage of the Emancipation Act tie success of the fanatical abolitionists of the day and, secondly, the change of policy in troduced by the B.iiisfi government, in withdrawing protection from their then weak and debilitated Colonies, it is a question whether Jamaica or Cuba has, at present, most cause to complain of the conduct of the mother country* and we do not'know hut the annexation of these Islands to the United .States, or iheir ab solute independence, would he as justi fiable a subject of rejoicing to the inhab itants of Jamaica, as to the Creoles of thtf“Gctn of the At)‘.files.” The Late Fearful Rail Road Accident. The Rev. Mr. Fuller, of Manchester, N. H. was in the car al the time of the accident, and furnishes the editor of the Mirror with the following interesting account of the late fearful railroad acci dent at Andover: I was looking out at the window, when ! .ve felt a severe shock, at*! the car was -ifrogyed for a few seconds.} the tne front wheel being broken. Perfectly conscious of our situation, I remember thinking what was the .matter. 1 retain ed through the whole mv consciousness. In another second, the coupling which joined our car with the other, broke, and our car was whirled violently round, so as to reverse thefends, and we were swung down the. rocky ledge. For once I had no hope of escaping death. ’ 1 shall never forget the breathless horror which came over us during our fall. There w’as not a shriek, nor an exclamation, till the progress of the car, after having turned over twice on the rocks,’ Was arrested, and with a violent concussion, having | parted in the middle, -anil being broken into many thousand fragments. I recei ved personally a few Jiruises and flesh cuts, of no particular moment, and found myself amid a mass of broken glass and splintered vvood, and groaning men and women, with no limbs broken, and with a heart pfaise God for his sparing mer cy. I had no need to get out at any door . or wdndow, for the car was a fragmentary ruin. The next moment, ?t nnan covered with blood himself—a noble fellow said ‘we arc alive, let us help others.’ I pas sed from one frightful part of the scene to another, an 4 the whole is before me now as a fearful vision. Men came un on every side dripping with biped, and few escaped without some cutsand bruises. Before all were rescued, the top, covered with oil cloih, took fire from the stove, aud added to the general horror and suf fering. Iwo incidents, among the many ter rible ones, are especially present to mv memory. On the hank sat a mother, (Mrs. Stokes of this city,) clasping her little bov, of some three or four years of age; he had been rescued from the ruin which had strewn the rock with splinter ed fragments, and her own person was considerably burned by the fire, hut she was shedding tears of gratitude over her rescued child, and rejoicing in his safety, unmindful of her own pain. But a few steps from her I saw the most appalling scene of all. There was another mother, whose agony passes beyond any descrip tion. She could shed no tears, hut over whelmed with grief, uttered such affect ing words as I never can forget. It was Mrs. Pierce, the wife of the President elect; and near her, in that ruin of shiver ed wood and iron, lay a more terrible ruin—her only son—one minute before .*-a beautiful, so full of life and hope.— she was supported by her husband and Prof. Packard. Gen. Pierce was himself bruised in the back, ho* pot severely, and the wounds of the spirit far exceeded any bodily sering; yet, while deeply affected, he showed all the self-possession and nerve which only characterizes great-hearted and noble men, ami which few would manifest under similar circumstances.— He gave all needful directions about the recovery of his little boy, still entangled in the wreck about him, and then afforded all that comfort and sympathy to his part ner in sorrow which was appropriate to the time. She was conveyed to a house near, and there she gave vent to the grief which rent her heart, while he consoled and comforted. I may not draw the veil from that picture. Sacred .is the holgr privacy of sorrow, and the hearts of those who have suffered can fee! what my pen must not describe. Soon we were able to convey the wound-’ ed and the dead to the. nearest house, which happened to be that connected with the poor farm in Andover, where every possible kindness and attention w r as rendered. Go with me, Mr. Editor, to that house, and look with me awhile on that scene of suffering and sorrow. In one room were Gen. Pieiceand his lady; in the opposite apartment lay the mortal remains of iheir little boy—and oh! so sad a sight! The blow, by which he w'as instantly killed, struck his forehead, and was so violent as to remove the upper portion of leaving a part -jf bne brain exposed. The face, with the ex ception of a bruise about the right eve, still remained uninjured, hut bathed in blood. Gen. Pierce and lady,meanwhile, retired to the house of Mr. Aiken. In the room was a la;ly, Mrs. Newel, of Hillsborough, considerably bruised, and her face cut. Her little daughter, twelve years of age, lay near, with her foot so badly injured, that amputation will be necessary. She bore her pains sweet ly and patiently. In another room Mr. Kittridge, of Pelham, lay with his leg broken, and a Mr. Childs, of Henniker, sat bravely up, though with a face cov ered with blood. Others, much bruised, had gone on the train which returned for us from Lawrence. Every attention whch couid possibly be paid to those in jured was given at this house, where most of the wounded were parried. The physicians were prompt in their services, calm, kind, and, as far as one not of the profession can judge, judicious. After the head of the little boy had been ten derly cared for by the physicians, and all possible done to restore the look of life, be was carried by qs to the house where his afil cted parents were. I shall never forget the look of extreme pain that child’s face wore, and yet there was something resigned and tender impressed even by the awful band of death. He was not vet cold when he was in the room of Mr Aiken’s house, dressed just as he had been at the moment of the calamity. The form which left that house but little more than art hour before, lull of life and hap piness, with a heart full of hope and bright aspirations, was born back to those who had parted from him—that heart noWtfhushed and still—that form motion less, and tiie limbs fast growing rigid un der the icy touch of death. In closing his nairation of the sad acci dent, Mr. Fuller says: “And now, Mr. Editor, I have stated all which you desire from me, very im • perfectly of course, but I believe as cor rectly as any one can immediately after so heart-rending and confused a scene.— I'o me the greatest cause of wonder and gratitude is that any escaped who were in that car. When I looked down that jagged, rocky steep, while sympathizing with the bereaved 1 felt that all who stood -tli(.-i to liao catisi so- (gratitude that we were yet among the living. I o the whole nation how appalling would have been stroke, had he, so recently chosen by them, to the highest office in the world, perishefr'there by the fearful disaster. May the wounded re cover from their severe bruises, and may the bereaved ones obtain that real conso lation which the Gospel affords in such a calamity.*’ I heir only child has been ta ken away, but there is a balm in the thought that our Saviour declared of child ren, ‘Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.’ Terrible is such a grief, and a mother’s heart is now wrung with anguish, while the father feels deeply his bereavement. On entering the scene of his future public labors, this personal grief must cast a shade of sadness over his spirit, and keep constantly before his mind and heart the solemn thought of mortality. May he he spared further sorrows, and fh*e feeble , health of his wife not fail beneath this heavy grief. In efforts for his country’s welfare, and consecration to her service, may he find some alleviation of his sor rows.” From the Richmond Enquirer. A Strange Story. The following singular statement is published in the Belfast (Ireland) Chron icle, —a journal which is said to be one of tbs most trustM’orthy and reliable in the United Kingdom. If true,it discloses the character of the new Emperor of the French in anew light, and summarily dis sipates whatever suspicions maj’ have been innocently entertained that the “Empire’’ is really to be “Peace.” If false—why it is but another of the many newspaper romances of which the “Nephew of his Uncle” has been the Hero, since his ac cession to power. There lias been so much of the wonderful already in the ex traordinary career of this man, that per haps we.shoukl cease to marvel at what we are now told are veritable facts, and yet we presume it will be a difficult mat ter to persuade one reader in ten that the revelations in the Belfast paper are not of the Slipvegammon texture : There lives in Paris a gentleman, who in December, 1547, wrote—“l can see with clearness that Louis Phillippe will not be three months on the throne of France.”’ Louis Phillippe was exiled in February, IS4S. That gentleman wrote shortly after the Presidential election “This Bonaparte scion is a traitor. Not a man looks’at him but ih instinct of avoiding him as a treicherous man. He will strike for the Consulate—for the Dictatorship; and God knows what will follow.” .He struck. The coup d'etat of December, ISSI, tells in history how he struck. The same gentleman wrote in March of the present year—“ The tyrant aims at the empire. His gaze is fixed upan the crown. Before a vear there will be a revival of the Bonapartean dynasty, and the French will knepl be fore Napoleon the Third.” The empire has come. The man who predicted these events is no common man. He thinks and looks around him. He perticipites in miny movements quietly, and gathers knowledge which, in our view, no other man at this moment, in or out of Paris, could find means to nCCplire. His previ ous predictions give us confidence in what he states. In fact we know him, and know that he . would not detail as truth what he did not know to be true, for he is generally one of the least spec ulative individuals we have ever met. Well, that gentleman -we would give his name if we were permitted writes the subjoined on Thursday last, and all before whom it comes can measure its worth, and the amount of credence to be attached to it from what they have al ready learned. The revelation will seem curious to many; to us it is by no means so; as we ere aware of the sources from which his information is derived, and how he derives it. That it is true we are convinced, and ui.lt the British gov ernment are “up” to the machinations of the French Emperor, is evident from the revived state of our defences, from the embodiment of our militia, from the addi tion to our maritime hands* and from the establishment, of a Channel Fleet. The following is the communication re ferred to : “In a secluded part of the wood of Bologne, at a place called Madria, whi lome the residence of Lamartine, is a house surrounded by trees, and the win dows of which are never opened, except sometimes at dawn, as if to let in fresh air This house, all day, and many nights, has the air of being uninhabited; but oftentimes at night there comes about suspicious looking characters, who take up their post in the thickets, and then about twelve or one up come several carriages, with the blinds close down, the porle cochere is opened mysteriously, they drive in and the door closes after them. What is this place ? It is lire residence of Virginia la Sabo tiere. This for many persons, indeed, nearly all —is no explanation. But let us enter one evening last week, and perhaps what may be going on may enlighten us. In an apartment sumptuously furnished, is a grand supper laid out, resplendent with plate and brilliant with lights, and around sit half a dozen men and as many women, who, while sipping their cham pagne are talking animatedly of conquest and empire, of aggression and rapine. “Ves,” says one, striking his fist on the table—a man with heavy moustache, hooked nose and saturnine bilious coun tenance —“yes, when once I am crowned I will proclaim Jerome King of Holland, and not only proclaim him King, but make him lying, while Belgium shall reign as my vassel.” “Yes, sire,” said all but one whom we shall not mention. “And then King of Rome and Italy, and Protector of the Helvetic Confedera tion shall be no empty titles—they shall be mine.” “But, sire, England,” observed one gently. “England, my eternal nightmare ! England, the assassin of my uncle! Ev i rvVLp I take I fiud her in mv way.— Let ner take care, perfidious and med dling Albion. Let her beware that she interfere not, for as surely as she inter feres, will I land on her shores and show them that their island is as easily made a.Frebch Colony as was Algiers. They fancy themselves impregnable; they will find their mistake ” Thus spojre Louis Napoleon in the house of Virginie la Sabotiere. „ I...must now explain who she is, and how .fie. found himself there, premising that tfye information I am giving you may cost me deaf, though I hope ho one will aid the rascally police of Bonaparte in tracing the author of the news here giv en. How I obtained it is a secret of life and death. But every word I write is true. Louis Napoleon may not carry out his after-supper boas*, but the word's were spoken by him. * When Louis Napoleon Bonaparte was a State prisoner in Ham, he was treated with ver3 r great kindness and considera tion. Amongst others who saw him for different purposes, was Virginie, daugh ter of an old sabet maker in Hatn. After a while Louis made proposals, they were accepted, and two children were the re sult. These children.he was very much attached to. They were provided for, and sent to first rate schools. On his ad vent to power in IS4S, the Prince gave Virginie a pension, and then in December, ISSI, he gave her the beautiful residence above alluded to. With a natural taste for debauchery, resembling in character the debauchery of the Regent and Louis XV., one of the delights of Louis Napoleon is an orgy, vith plenty of wine and women. In fact his happiness is a petite souper , such as when the Regent and Dubois lived. To indulge in these at St. (’loud and the Elysee would be dangerous, as there is a certain amount of public opinion still alive; but then there was the cozy little house at Madria, and that has been se lected by him as the seat of his midnight conferences on the affairs of the Empire. Surrounded by parasites, pimps and pros titutes, heated by wine, he tries to arouse himself in this despicable way to emulate his uncle. Not a dozen persons in Paris, apart from his own clique, know a word of all this. But I have told it. Was I pres ent ? did I receive the report from one who was present ? was the orgy revealed to a second party and then to me ? Moro questions f cannot answer I give the informatian as true, exact, and historical. It may be denied. That will only prove its truth. As for a Bona partist to say a thing to be, is to prove that it is not.” Louis Napoleon’s, Crown and ms Wife’s Foot. — A Paris letter says, “the coronation of Louis Napoleon will cost much more than that of Napoleon the great, and, consequently, than any other public ceremony that France ever paitf for. That of Napoleon cost somewhat over two millions. The marriage will cost as much more probably; and the birth of the heir, if there is any, wilt doubtless be made the occasion of simi lar expenditures. The coronation robes are to exceed any other coronation robes ever heard of. and I heard yesterday an indignant Orleanist say, “the creature has had the impudence to have the crown jewels sewed into his imperial tnanteau.” t he crown for which M. Lemonnier, the newly appointed court jeweler, has gone to Russia to obtain precious stones, is al so to go ahead of any crown yet com posed. A model of the foot of the Prin cess Wasa, has arrived, and has been confided to the imperial shoemaker. A model of the princess’ hand is expected for the glove maker; and the necessary moulds for the corset maker; the bonnet maker, and the modiste. A daguerreo type has been handed to the court painter; and lam astonished that the likeness of the future Empress has not appeared in the shop windows. By the time she gets here she will find herself an old story.” Sneer at laziness as much as you may, lazy people are the happiest people under the sun. Nothing annoys them—not even the contempt of the energetic; for they return it with a sublime and lofty compassion for the fretting, fuming, push ing, toiling mortals, who pride themselves on their industry and activity. Your sluggard is a philosopher in his way. Ho says to himself. “Why should I work that other folks may enjoy?” Were Ito wear out my life in amassing a fortune, still 1 should not be a whit richer than Lazarus —nay, I might be as badly off as Dives —in that undiscovered country', where there are no banks or fancy stock.” “La bor,” he argues, “was entailed upotuman as a curse; he was made industrious as a penalty for being too busy. If Adam and Eve had been contented with loafing about the Garden of Eden without po king their noses into what did not con cern them, we might be all living in clo ver, with nothiag to do but eat, drink, sleep, laugh and grow fat. Work being a curse, (see Genesis,) why should l ap propriate any more of the malediction is absolutely necessary. Surefv tivere is no harm in being cursed as little as circumstances will permit*” So rea sons vour metaphysical donothing; and there is some logic in his argument.— But then everything depends upon tem perament. We, for example, could not be happy unless our brain were in a con tinual state of perspiration. The “curse,” such is the force of habit, has become to us a source of enjoyment, as dkinnrng be comes a luxury tw eels when they are used to it. I here is a lo,comotivo prin ciple within us, that sfiust expend, its force in action. it up, or tie it down, anti we should perish hv com bus* , lion.— fJi other JonAtlinn. No. 3.