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nn for discussion the whole subject of the , var — na y more —it brought forth from Mr. Stephens the most masterly exposition of great principles which lie as the .inundation of our Confederated Govern nent that has ever yet been given to tne vorM It was a theme worthy of his ut lost powers, and most triumphantly has Vh genius accomplished the noble woik. r n perusing the work, the reader feels • ' it the discussion rises to the height of ■ moral sublime as objection after , ct i on —argument after argument— tatenient after statement —fact after fact— harge after charge, brought forward by the assailants of the South, as by Mr. Stephens answered—overthrown—demol is*ed—crushed. \y e have in Mr. Stephens book the most perfect history of the origin of our Government -the progress of principles— ,<l their modes of settlement that has ..yer been written. He has given a per f(U demonstration of the true character of our Government, and he has done this bv showing the true relation which the States sustain in the compact, and the re lation which the Congress—or the Govern ment at Washington—sustaius IN THE Constitution to the States forming the Union. All this he does so plainly, so dearly, that the humblest intellect can understand. His book is a text book upon the sub ject. It should be in the hands of every i,an, especially of every young man, in all land—North —South —East —West. It houM go wherever a voter is found, to teach him a right understanding of the mPure of the Government in which he jjves. It should go forth to counteract, if possible, the baleful errors respecting the nature of our Government, now sweeping over the land—or rather that have already swept over it—and which errors are the cause of the. terrible calamities which have befallen the country in the last few years. The war, which has desolated the land, never would have occurred if there had prevailed a right understanding of the principles of the Government. The gross assumptions of power by the Congress at Washington never could have beeu at tempted, or, if attempted, would never have been sustained by the people, if the true principles of the Government, as established by the Constitution , had been thoroughly understood. The errors of Story, of Webster, of Motley and others, are all expressed and refuted with a master’s power, while the views of the great patriot-statesmen—a long list of glorious worthies —too length ened to be introduced into this notice,* are given in such clearness and power that the reader seems almost to he in their very midst, listening to the patriotic words that fall from their lips, and catching the spirit of Constitutional Liberty incorporated in the Government they were founding for their posterity. Space does not allow us to say more in reference to this work. We have written merely to call attention to its attractive pages, and urge upon all our people a pe rusal of the book. They will reap a re ward. M. THE BAZAAR QUESTION. LETTER OF THE LATE CARDINAL WISEMAN*. Apropos of a discussion on the subject of Catholic Bazaars, the London Tablet publishes the following interesting letter received some years ago from Cardinal Wiseman. The Tablet had inserted some letters against bazaars, &c., with the in tention of replying to them, and impeach ing their conclusions; but before doing so, having heard that the Cardinal thought that a discussion on the matter might do harm, wrote to consult him. In reply, the following letter was received : Talacre, Rhyl, Sept. 2, 1862. Lear Mr. Wallis : So far from wish ing you to burke the subject of bazaars, I hope you will go fully into it, more tuo. 1 could not believe that your sentiments were expressedin the letters of “Cogitans,” but 1 did not know of the plot. My Tablet has not reached me yet. The Ptopo’s lottery is a serious fact for the enemies of those old-fashioned expedients ot charity. You are perfectly right in considering the antipathy to the blending ot a little sober and innocent excitement w ith a work of charity as a mixed result oi Puseyism and Presbyterianism, whose union here is mysterious. I believe the 1 rm ot amalgamation was the infusion of 1 uriranisrn into the High Church before ai. v ot its members joined us. * V) doubt it would be the heroism of chanty fur two hundred Catholics to walk demurely into a room with a ticket | Overs box at the end and each put down his contribution of <£s or os. to <£loo, an | walk back home with a sort of self sa -lied grimness in his countenance, and “ 1 baiisaical mockery in his tossed ud n< se at the thought that he had perform ed a deed of charity. But, unfortunately, ‘‘heroes and heroines of charity’’ are phenomena, and not generally people who can give you £5. May not poor human nature be coaxed and won a little to do good, by an admixture of amenities, and playfulness, and relaxation, which even prolong and diversify the perform ance of a virtuous act ? In the Hymn lor Lauda, in the Office tor St. Elizabeth ■ 1 Portugal, (February 8,) there is a pret ty allusion to her converting into roses the charity she was bearing, so as to con ceal it. We cannot do this, but we can conceal it in the simpler way, as the verse insinuates: “ Id inn uit rosis operta charita V Now this is what a Bazaar does. I go in with £lO, say. I might stalk up to kind Lady Bountiful’s stall, lay down my money, desire it to be put down to the account of the charity, and walk out again without deigning to look at the vanity fair on either side, nor at the cheerful yet modest vestals who are try ing to palm its goods or its evils on me. This would be to my mind mock heroic, and possibly real Pharisaical. Instead of that, I wqjk through the Bazaar, go from stall to stall, pretend to let myself be taken in and done, by the kind-hearted saleswomen, who know I have gone there for no other purpose, and whose extrava gant prices only mean “ the highest alms you will give,” sow my ten pounds in fractions over the various counters, and retreat without any one the least knowing what I have given, though the fractions of it will join together to form the stated figure. Igo out, covering my charity, not indeed with roses (unless in Berlin wool), but with slippers, pin-cushions, most useless baby things, lucifer boxes, and very coarse Roman collars, five shil lings worth of the veriest trash, for which I have giveu £lO. Yet Ido not grudge it. They were the roses which conceal my charity. In the meantime, I have passed an hour of London weather in a bright hall, and have met and talked with scores of chari table loungers like myself, whom I should not otherwise have met without a formal visit, who are also going off with pocket and arms full of equally useless, flimsy, and slang articles, which will be very much valued at the distribution of prized in their poor schools, or at the next Bazaar. Will any one go to bed heavier-hearted for having thus mingled the utile of chari ty with the dulcet) f recreation? Under what commandment shall it be put in our evening examination of conscience when we come to look at our failings that day ? I suppose one might write an essay “on the ungodliness of Bazaars which come of the Turks and the ma lignitie of charitie lotteries which come of the Pope of Rome and his shavel ings.” But a Catholic could hardly do it. I have let myself ramble on, but, really, there is a great deal to say on the matter. There is another subject, which I want sometime to turn the bull’s eye on your editorial lantern, connected with the change in our religious literature, to which you have already alluded. But. I dare not enter on another sheet. Your affect. Servt. in Xt., N. Card. Wiseman. [From the Iberville (La.) South.] Convent of the Holy Cross.— The Annual Examination and Distribution of Premiums, at the above named Institu tion, took place at the Convent Buildings on Monday and Tuesday of the present week. The occasion was rendered doubly interesting by the presence of the Lady Superior of the Order of the “Holy Cross,” who,together with a number of Ladies of the same Order, from New Orleans, came hither to attend the ceremonies, at the close of the scholastic year. There were also many of our leading citizens in at tendance, all evincing a warm interest in the welfare of the Academy of St. Basil. The exercises commenced on Mon Jay morning, and were continued until Tues day eve. The young ladies all gave evidence of thorough moral as well as mental training, and rejected, by their deportment and scholarly attainments, much credit upon themselves, as well as their teachers. While all did well, Misses Minerva Dardenne, Elmire Charre, Pocahontas Holliday, Celeste Beck, and Clara Marix, particularly dis tinguished themselves. “Marco Bozzaris” was admirably re cited by Miss Clara Marix, and the English recitation of Miss Minerva Dar denne was faultless. The recitations in French were delivered in an impressive style by two young ladies, whose names we did not learn. “Molly Chatterbox,’’ as rendered by little Elmire Charre, was perfection itself, and was warmly ap plauded. After the conclusion of the literary exercises, and the distribution of premiums, a brief address, replete with good advice and encouragement, to both pupils and their parents, was delivered by Rev. C. D’Uemecourt, the beloved pastor of St. John’s Church. We may safely say that “St. Basil’s Academy” affords to parents and guardians every educational advantage to be found in any school in the State, and we hope that the next academic year will witness a large accession to the number of pupils. Visitor. [For the Banner of the South.] IS THERE ANOTHER LIFE ? BY MISS MATTIE CHAPMAN. Another life ! Another world ! With what strange meaning these words are fraught! They ever arrest the wayward thoughts, and stir the inquiries of the heart. Our imaginations are ever tra versing the etherial space of the bound less Universe, to catch a view of that mysterious other world. Yet, they ever return to us, weary-worn and unsatisfied. Sometimes the soul would ask : Is it a reality, this future life of man ? or is it a fervid, deceptive dream, that will end with this short, mysterious life ? Is it, like the body, to be consigned to death, and the grave—its high aspirations for knowledge, purity, and happiness, to be put out in forgetfulness? Are its cease less thirstings for glory, light, and ever lasting life, to be quenched beneath the dark waves of oblivion, and the pure affections of the heart, the bright hopes of life, never to be perfected? Oh! tell me, are the chords of love and friendship, that have been rudely severed by the hand of Death, to be re-united never again, and the friends that part with us here to meet us no more forever ? Oh ! why is the human heart thus created, with deep and lasting affections, bright and glorious hopes, high and noble aspi rations. if never to be realized ? But, nay, we know there is another life, and that life is in another world ! The Spirit of God speaks to our souls, in tones un mistakable, of a life un weakened by frail mortality, undimmed by sorrow and care; a life unclouded by folly and sin, and uuembittered by pain and death; there, the broken ties of earth shall be re-united, and there Time’s desolating footsteps shall never roam. Were it not for the small voice that falls upon the heart, in the hour of its trial and suffering, when the spirit droops and sighs over the heart’s loneliness and desolation, amid its blighted hopes and chilled affections— when those, who once filled it with joy. light, and love, are.taken away ! away so far, into the unknown beyond, and the restless spirit chafes against its “prison house of clay,” and longs to proudly soar away from this dreary, darkened Earth, to find its lost ones in a brighter, purer sphere—then, how could this heart well endure such pain as this, were it not for this still, small voice that falls so softly, soothingly, upon the troubled spirit, and tells it to struggle on and suffer, in view of this life to come. And yet, fully delineated, how little do we know of our future destiny ?—how little, even of to-morrow? Beyond the boundary of Earth, these mortal eyes cannot penetrate. We cannot follow the departing spirit of some loved one to the brink of the “Dark River,” as it starts oft’ on its unknown journey to another world; but there we must turn back. Beyond all is mystery impenetrable; yet, could we snatch away the “veil of mor tality” from these eyes, methinks we could see them, ere the farewells are hushed on Earth, greet their long-lost friends on the shores of the other world; and our ears might catch the music of harp-strings swept by angelic fingers, as they strike up their triumphant notes to proclaim the victory of another soul over Death and the Grave. Through Deatli and the Grave must we all go, ere we inherit the joys of that glorious other world. The soul cannot escape—’tis bound to Earth by chains of clay, and encircled by the “River of Death.” How often, when the soul grows weary of the burdens and disap pointments of life, does it long to burst these bonds ? But Fate points to the Dark River, and the pillow of dust! Then the timid soul shrinks into its “prison house of clay,” in woe and despair, till Faith discerns the bright ray of light which has lit up the dark way since the passage through it of Death’s great Conqueror. Is it strange, that when we contemplate this future existence, we should wonder and fear ? Is it strange, the heart, be wildered in the maze of alternate hopes and fears, is ever asking, where ? “ ’Till Faith and Hope, best boons to mortals given, Catch up the bright ray, and point us up to Heaven.’* A Noble Example —A meeting, com posed of Catholic ladies, presided over by his Eminence, Cardinal Cullen, was lately held in Dublin for the purpose of raising funds in support of the Pontifical Army. Among the distinguished personages who took an active part in this movement were the Lady of the Mayor of Dublin, the Marchioness of Londonderry, the Countess of Portalingtor, the Countess of Granard, Lady French, Lady Bellow, Lady Burke, and other ladies of distinc tion. What a noble example for the Catholic ladies of Baltimore, especially when the Garibaldian movements against our holy Father have recommenced in Italy.— Balt. Cath. Mirror. [From the Loudon Musical World,] C. M. VON WEBER AT MUNICH, Weber arrived on the 14th March, 1811, at Munich, having always resolved I to make that capital the central point of his artistic tours. King Louis did not yet sit upon the throne of Bavaria, and Munieh could not boast of that aureola of glory with which the name of Corne lius, Hess, Kaulbach, Schvvanthaler, Klenxer, and others, were destined to surround it. But, since Carl Theodor, all its princes had displayed both taste and zeal for musical ait. Maximilian Joseph had already done much to de serve the name of the “ father of his peo ple.” The fact is, however, the Bavarians preferred the pleasures of the table, and other sensual pleasures, to those which art could procure them. Artists,there fore, could scarcely* seek glory among them, but they easily became popular. The stage, which had altogether gone to decay towards the end of the seventt e ith century, had risen again under the hand of Babo, a dramatic poet, the author of “ Otto von Wittolsbach,” aided by Max Heigel, an admirable and really superior actor. But Babo struggled in vain against the fatal tendencies of Count Torring Seefeld, the Court Intendant, who liked only the pomp, splendor, and tinsel ot the Italian theatre. Seeing that he could not resist the Count, Babo re tired, and a committee was intrusted with the task ot managing the theatre in his place. The principal musical direct or was Peter Winter, the composer of “Das unierbrochene Opferfest” who was twice invited to visit Paris, but was not more successful there with his “Ta merlan” than with his “Castor.” His music, says M. Fetis, was considered more antiquated than that of Rameau, and in ferior even to that of Candeille. Ac cording to Weber, he possessed a certain degree of merit as an orchestral conduct or, though he was deficient in delicacy of ear, precision, and warmth. He was, too, a man at petty mind, envious and sly. Louis Spohr, in his autobiography, has characterized him with a few touches. His size was gigantic, and his strength proportionate to it, but he was, with all this, as timid as a bare. He flew every instant into fits of excessive rage, and yet allowed himself to be led like an infant. His old housekeeper exercised the most absolute control over him. If, for in si nice, she happened to find him arranging and preparing his little dolls for a Christ mas tree, an occupation of which he was madly fond, and to which he to de vote himself for hours together, she would run up, interrupt him in what he was doing, and exclaim indignantly, “ When do you mean to leave off play ing ? Go to your piano directly, and finish your air, sir !” Weber bad letters from the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess of Darm stadt, lor the Queen of Bavaria, and, also, for some other persons, among whom were Count von Montgelas, the all-pow erful minister, and Wiebeking, the direc tor ot public works. The minister served him so well that, extraordinary as the fact was under the reign of formal etiquette, five days after his arrival, Weber had an audience of the Queen, who talked along time with him, and, in the King’s name, promissed him per mission to give concerts in the town, ex pressing, moreover, a wish to hear him herself, and be the first to enjoy that pleasure. At YY iebeking’s house the art ist found himself at home. In a very short time he became attached to Wiebe king, who was an original, and then busy building, on anew plan of his own in vention, the great bridge over the Isar. Weber gave pianoforte lessons to Wiebe king’s daughter Fanny, who possessed real talent for the piano united to genuine artistic feeling. At Wiebeking’s house, from which he was now scarcely ever absent, Weber made the acquaintance of Barmann, the celebrated clarinetist, and wrote for him the Clarinet Concertino, op. 20, which Barmann played so often. A friendship, which was never interrupt ed, sprang up between the two men, and ended only with life. But, though they were like eacli other in sentiment and character, nothing could be more dis similar than their persons. Weber was thin, pale, and spare ; Barmann was tall, with the air ot an athlete, and a magni ficently fine head. Carl Maria said laughingly, in reference to his friend’s physical advantages, “all the best bits are offered him in a silver dish ; poor devils, like myself, are obliged to content them selves with the crumbs which fall from his well supplied table.” Prince Bariatinsky’s brilliant saloons, also, were thrown open to the young composer, who took a strange delight in the manners and polite customs of the old courts, the vestiges of which were still found at the house of the Russian minister. The pick of scholars and artists was, likewise, to be*found there. It was there that Weber met Schelling, the celebrated philosopher, whose works he had seriously studied, and whose name inspired him with respect, mingled with a kind of fear. “I thought I was dreaming,” he says in a letter, ‘-the first time I beheld this truly great man.” At a subsequent period, he said, with simple delight, “Schelling and myself are like two good friends.” 1 eter \\ inter, the old conductor, be haved at first to VY eber as he behaved to all young persons ; he kept him at a distance, and overwhelmed him with compliments, as long as he saw in him only an amateur; but, when he found out what he really was, he treated him so roughly, that all the members of his orchestra were iudignant at such behavior. Weber, however, had enlisted their sym pathy, and entertained no doubt of their support His evil star appeared to have softened its rigor. On the Bth of April he gave a concert at the Theatre Royal. He had already become known, and peo ple spoke of him a great deal. The at tendance was large. But, though assisted by excellent artists, his symphony, which, with the exception of the allegro, was feebly executed, failed to excite much enthusiasm. His cantata, “The First Sound,” did not obtain the applause which usually greeted it. The great suc cess of the evening was achieved by the pianoforte concerto played by himself, and by the new clarinet concertino. The b* • made a marvellous impression. The King was so enchanted with it that, after the concert, he ordered YVeber to write two more pieces of the same kind, for the same instrument. Weber immediately set about his task. But, while working at the clariuet pieces ordered by the King, he wrote, at the re quest of the manager, Franzel, four airs for the revival of Kotzebue’s “Armer Minnesinger,” and contributed to the Morgeriblatt an article on the improve ment of the flute. “It appears,” he writes to Gottfried Weber, “that the very deuce is in the entire orchestra. There is not one member of it who lias not asked me to write a concerto for his particular instrument. You see that I have plenty r to do. I shall probably stay here all the Summer. My receipts are satisfactory, and another concert given before rav de parture will certainly bring in a good sum. The public belief is that I am to be created a chapelmaster, but you know what I think on that head. At any rate, l have some hope of getting my opera< played here.” This hope was destined to be realized sooner than the young composer antici pated. It is evident that some secret in fluence had been exerted on Winter, who, from being exceedingly rude, suddenly displayed an excess of attention and friendly politeness. From the lips of the grand director himself, Weber received an intimation that his “Abou Hassarn” would be forthwith put in preparation. Truly enough, the rehearsals soon be gan, and were rapidly carried on. The orchestra was filled with zealousness for the young composer, and displayed in the execution of his light and easy music a great amount of fire and spirit, The first performance took place on the 14th June. But, alas! the malignant body that Weber persisted in calling his star, and which had spared him on the occasion of his concert, appeared to have determined on repaying itself with usury. The theatre was full, and the overture enthusiastically applauded. The charming duet between Hassarn and Fatima had just begun, when cries of “fire!” were suddenly heard. The public rushed to the doors, and the alarm was general. They soon discover ed that it was a false alarm, but it re quired some time to restore calm, and the state of feeling necessary for appreciating a musical work was gono for the rest of the evening. The little opera was, however, sung and played charmingly, despite this un fortunate interruption. Several numbers were applauded to the great delight of the young composer, and the success was all he could desire. Thus encouraged, he wanted nothing better than to compose another opera. ‘T am sighing most pro foundly for a libretto,” he wrote to Gaus bacher; “without an opera in progress, I am the most unfortunate of men!” His misfortune lasted no less than ten years, since it was decreed that the first creation of his genius, after the pretty little opera of “Abou Hassarn” was to be the greatest of all his works, “Der Freischutz.” ___ Flunkevism. —How would the follow ing read ? ‘‘On the 11th July’, at Bol lingford Park, Wilts, the wife of Sir An thony Stubbs, of a baronet.” Yet this is the way the leading journals set to work, when another baby is added to the house hold of 11R.11., the Prince of Wales. Why on earth will the Tunes talk about the “Princess of Wales being safely de livered of a Princess P Is there not the word “daughter” in the English lan guage ? — Tomahawk. 5