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6-UI.IUiJ JLAI J/£UU> JUli-UL
r J he most perfect Government would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least—-Costs least —Dispenses Justicclo all, and confers Privileges on ftone.—BE'iTlLUl.
BY T. S. REYNOLDS.
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u,«mi , iiii.'j ii.i-. isi j ■'> ■rrwnfmwmrn
MISCELLANY, j
Prom the London Ciarivari.
The comic B ackstoue.
Os Parent and Child.—We now
come to the tender subject of parent and
child, which Shakspeure has so tenderly
touched upon in many of his tragedies.—
Macdutfcalls his children “chickens,”
probably because he “broods” over the
loss of t hem; and Werner, in Lord By
ron’s beautiful play of that name, ex
claims to Gabor, “Are you a father/ a
question which, as the Hungarian was a
single man, he could not have answered
m the affirmative without rendering him
self amenable to the very stringent pro
visions of the 43th of Elizabeth.
Children are of two sorts—boy Sand
girls : though the lawyers still further
divide them into legitimate and illegiti
mate.
The duties of a pariint are mainten
ance and education; or as Coke would
nave expressed it, grub and . rainmar.— j
That the father has a right to maintain |
his child is as old as Moiites preu—-we j
mean, of course, the rule, not the child
or the Karent, is as old as Montesquieu, I
whose eiatt age, by the bye, we have no
means of knowing. .
Fortunately, the law of nature chimes
m with the law of the land, for though
there is a gamccalled “none of myclnld,
iu which it is customary to knock an in
fant about from One side of the room to I
the other, stilltbereis that natural sforge |
in the parental breast that fathers and
mothers are for the most part willing to
provide tor*t tetr offering.
The civil law " w a l iaren l
to disinherit his cm dv. i . ■ a mason;
of which reasons there are teen, tho
ti,.,re is one reason, namely,- having noth- I
in o 'eave, which causes a great many
;,.n -o he amputated, or cut oil', even
vit' it the ceremony of performing the
mq.. , , with a shilling. Our own law
|C to parents than the civil
■ - country children are left
•Quarter Sessions, which
either, mother, giandfath
other,to provide for a child,
t ability. If a parent runs
to say, doth spring off from
- ( the churchwardens and
s may seize his goods and chat
id dispose of them for the maitite
n ice of his family; so that if a man sod-
Du U 1 a garret leaves nothing be hum
hiin, that n ust he seized for the benefitol
the deserted children. By the late Poor
l*w Act, a husband is liable to main
tain the children of his wife, whether
legitimate or illegitimate; and we would
therefore advise all ‘persons about to
marry,” that though it is imprudent to
count one’s chickens before they are
hatched, still it is desirable that chickens
already hatched, and not counted on,
should he tigkily guarded against.
It lieing the policy of our laws to pro j
mole industry, no father is bound to con
tribute to a child’s support more than
twenty shillings a month, which keeps
the child continually sharp set and is
likely to promote the active growth of the
infantile appetite.
Onr law does not prevent a fatherfrom
disinheriting his child 1 ; a circumstance
which has been invaluable to our dram
atists, who have been able to draw a
series of delightful stage old men, who
have a strong hold on the filial obedi
ence of the walking ladies and gentle
men, who dare not rush into each oth
er’s arms, lor fear of the old gentleman in
a court coat and large shoe buckles be
ing unfavorable to the youth in ducks,
or the maiden in muslin. Heirs are es
pecial favorites of our courts of justice
much as the lamb is the special favorite
Os the wolf—for au heir with mint saucc ;
DTi2.IC3F.ATI3 BA272TEF.—“ jFm STrahr, Hoto Butfrs, flo Debt, Separation from ttarjts, Hconomt?, nctrcnrlnncnt, nun a Strict Slthmntf to theeonsHt ti n.’’
* • ______________________________________________
that is to say, with lots of money, is a
dainty dish indeed to tempt the legal ap
petite.
A parent may protect his child: and
thus if one boy batters another boy, the
parent of the second boy may barter the
first boy, and the battery is justifiable,
for such battery is in the eye of the law
only the working of parental affection;
though it is rather awkward for parental
affection to take a pugilistic tnrft in its
extraordinary zeal to show itself.
The last duty of a parent is to educate
a child, nr to initiate him into the mys
teries of Mayor at an early period.—
Learning is said to be better than houses
and land—probably because it opens a
wide field for the imagination—that Cu
bit of the mind, to build upon.
The old Romans, says Hale, used to
be able to kill their children; but he adds
that “the practysse off cuttinge offe one’s
own hair was thoughte barber-ons.”—
This atrocious pun remind us of the
cruelty of a certain dramatist of modern
times, who used to write pieces and take
his own children to see them, thereby
submitting his own offspring to the most
painful ordeal, for they were compelled
to sit out the whole performance, and
were savagely pinched if they fell asleep,
while(hey were, at the same time, ex
pected to laugh and look cheerful at
every attempt at a joke which their un
natural father had ventured to perpetrate.
In conformity with the maxim that “pa
terna poteslds in pietate debet non in
atrocitate consistere,” it is believed that
a child in such a dreadful position as that
which we have alluded to, might claim
to be released by his next friend, for the
time being, the boxkeeper.
A parent may correct his child with a
rod or a cane; a practice originally ift
troduced to encourage the growers of
birch, and to protect the importers of
bamboo,as well as to promote the healthy
tingling of the juvenile veins; and a
schoolmaster who is in loco parentis , is
also empowered to do the like by an old
Act of Parliament, known as the statute
of Wapping.
Children owe their parents support;
but this is a mutual obligation, for they
must support each other—though we
sometimes hear them declaring each oth
er wholly unsupportable.
* Having’ no Greek letter*, we print this word in
italics.
A Village in the Air.
Moffat, in his travels, says: Having
travelled one bundled miles, five days
after leaving Mostega, w*e came to the
first cattle ont-posts of the Matabeel,
where we halted by a fine rivulet. My
attention was arrested by a beautiful and
gigantic tree, standing in a defile leading
into an extensive and woody ravine, be
tween a high range of mountains. See
ing soma individuals employed on the
ground, under its shade, and the conical
points of what looked like houses in min
iature, protruding through its green foli-
I age, I proceeded thither, and found that
i the tree was inhabited by several families
of Babrones, the aborigines of the coun
try. I ascended by the notched trunk,
and found, to my amazement, no less
than seventeen of these aerial abodes,
and three others unfinished. On reach
-1 ing the topmost hut, about thirty feet
from the ground, l entered ar.d sat down;
its only furniture was the hay which
Covered the floor, a spear, a spoon, and a
bowl full of locusts. Not having eaten
any tiling that day, and from the novelty
of my situation, not wishing to return
immediately to the wagons, I asked a
wrtman, who sat at the door with a babe
at her breast, permission to eat; this she
granted with great pleasure, and soon
i brought me some locusts in a* powdered
1 stater Several more females came from
the neighboring roosts, stepping from
branch so branch, to see the stranger, w ho
was then as great a curiosity as the tree
was to him. I then visited the different
ahodt •, which were on several principal
branches. ,
Tlk : ictnre of those houses was ve- 1
ry simple. An oblong scaffold, about
seven feet wide, is formed of straight
sticks, and ii ttcced w ith grass. A per
son can nearly stand upright in it; the
diameter of the floor is about six feet.—
The lieuse stands on the end of the ob
long so as to leave a little square place
before the door. On the day previous, I
had passed several villages, some contain
| ing forty houses, all built on poles, about
seven or eight feet from the ground, in
the form of a circle ; the ascent and de
scent is by a knotty branch of a tree, pla
ced in the front of the house. In the cen
tre of the circle there is always a heap of
the horns of the game they have killed.
Such were the houses of the poor people
of this country, who, having been scat
tered and destroyed by a great chief, had
neither herd nor stall, but subsisted on
locusts, roots, and the chase. They
adopted this mode rtf architecture to es
cape the lions which abounded in the
country. During the day the family de
scended to the shade beneath, to dress
their daily food. When the inhabitants
increased, they supported the augmented
weight in the branches by upright sticks,
but when lightened of their load they re
move them for firewood,
MACON, WEDNESDAY, .TUNE 26, 1844.
Women in Heathen Cotmtries.
There is a striking similarity in the
domestic and social customs and habits
of all uncivilized nations. This is espe
cially the case in the condition of woman;
wherever a people is little advanced in
civilization the lot of the female is hard.
In Atrica they are regarded as servants;
instruments of pleasure and profit. Not
only are they subjected to domestic drud
gery, but at regular seasons compelled to
the severe tasks of the field, exposed to
the full blaze of the sun while their un
gallant lords arc enjoying the threefold
luxury of the shade, a hammock and a
pipe. Their tasks, however, are not al
ways unpleasant to themselves, nor with
out interest to those who witness them.
When the fountain, as is often the case,
is situated at a distance from the hamlet,
the business of Conveying water is made
an occasion of gossip and recreation.—
The usual time of watering is in the cool
of the morning or afternoon. They usu
ally go in companies, threading the nar
row tortuous paths in Indian file, enli
vening the solitariness of the way by
sprightly conversation or inspiring song.
Occasionally they form their party nbout
noon and start for the brook. They first
fill their vessels and deposite them near
by. Afterward, they descend a small
distance below the place where the water
is taken, and bury their bodies in the re
freshing strearn. ’ They carry the water
in vessels on their head, poised with an
accuracy that leaves their arms and hands
at perfect liberty—while a green branch
immersed in the water prevents it lrom
splashing.
Gather roses while yon may.
“Gather roses while you may,” is the
burden of an old and beautiful song.—
This is the season of flowers, and many
may ask what was the origin of roses.—
The Guebers believe that when Abra
ham was thrown into the fire by Nim
rod, the flames turned into a bed of roses.
The Turks have an idea that it sprang
from the perspiration of Mahomet, and
they cause a rose to be sculptured on
the monuments of all young women
who die unmarried. The mythological
writers say that Apollo caused Rhodante,
Queen ot Corinth, in consequence of her
extreme beauty, to be changed into a
rose. The first rose is said to have been
given by the God of love to Harpocrates,
the God of silence, to engage Him to con
ceal the conduct of his mother Venus,
and hence it was made the symbol of si
lence. A rose was always placed above
the heads of the guests in the banquet
ting hall, to banish restraint, and to de
note that nothing said thereshould be re
lated elsewhere; and hence originated the
saying sub rosa, when a secret was to
te kept.
Rhodes is thought to owe its name to
the immense quantity of roses which it
produces. At Salreay, in France, a cur
ious festival is kept up, called the festival
ol roses. A young girl is selected from
among three of the most distinguished
for female virtue. Her name is then an
nounced from the pulpit. She is after
wards conducted to the church to attend
the vesper service. She Was formerly
accustomed to open the ball at night with
the seigneur; now a present is bestowed
upon her, and she is called la 7-osier, be
cause she is always adorned with roses.
The perfume of this delicious flower is
thus accounted for by the fabulous auth
ors“ Love at the feast of Olympus in
the midst of a lively dance, overset by a
stroke of his wing a goblet of nectar,
which, falling on a rose embalmed it
with the rich fragrance which it still re
tains.”
Frederika Bremer says the co
quette expresses herself by caresses and
bold freedom. She is determined to
charm, cost what it will ; and, passing
over the line of beauty, defying the good
and the appropriate, she passes into the
world of the senses, and, employing all
empty ornaments, she loses successively
her powrer, her charms, the respect oft rue
men, and her own peace cf mind; and
beauty’s holy heaven closes its door
against her. An elevated desire to please
may pass into coquetry, but we do not
see every where in life that the white
may become grey, and the grey continu
ally darker, until the color of innocence
is'entirely obscured by the black ! Yet
is the white still there, and may lie next
the black in stainless purity, just as truth
may beam brightly by the side of the
darkness of falsehood. There is an in
nocent and loveiy desire of pleasing;
would that every woman possessed it,
and would despise its caricature!
Paddifs expedient for 7 educing a
hole. —An Irish weaver just imported
from the sister isle, took to his employer
in Kilmarnock, the other day, the first
cloth he had woven since his arrival.—
His employer detected in the cloth two
holes, withih half an inch of each other,
and told him he must pay a fine of a
shilling for a hole. “And plaze ye,” re
turned Pat, “ is it by the number of holes,
or by the size of them, that you put the
fine on us?” “By the number of holes,
to be sure.” “And a big hole and a small
one is the same price ?” “Yes, a shilling
[for each hole, big or little” ‘ Then gi ,T e
me a hould of the piece,” replied Faddy;
and getting the cloth into his hand, he
tore the small holes into one, and exclai
med, “By the hill of Ilowth, and that
saves me a shilling anyhow !”
Evening. —l think there are two pe
riods in tho life of man in which the eve
ning hour is peculiarly interesting—in
youth and ia old age. In youth, you
iove it for its mellow moonlight, its mill
ion stars, its thin and soothing shades, tts
still serenity.; amid these we can com
mune with opr loves, or twine the
wreaths of friendship, while there is none
to bear us witness but the heavens and
the spirits that hold their endless Sab
baths there—or look into the deep bosom
of creation, speak abroad like a canopy
above us, and listen till we can almost
see and hear the waving wings and mel
tings songs of other beings in other
worlds. 'To youth the evening is de
lightful it accords with the flow of his
light spirits; the flow of his fancy, and
the softness of his heart. Evening is al
so the delight of old age—it affords hours
of undisturbed contemplation ; it seems
an emblem of the calm and tranquil close |
of busy life, serene, placid, and mild, with
the impress of its great creator stamped
upon it; it spreads its quiet wings over
the grave, and seems to promise that all
shall be peace beyond it.— Franklin.
The spell of song. —lt is given to song
like the sun, to throw its gloryifying
light upon all human circumstances, and
to lend them beauty, at least for a mo
ment. “The spinner,” and “the aged
man by the road side,” are led by song
into the kingdom of beauty,even as they
are bv the gospel into the kingdom cf
Heaven.
An obsolete idea. —‘What are you?’
said the recorder yesterday, to a nonde
script looking charecter, who stood up in
the dock before him.
‘ I ain’t nothing,’ said Bill Button—for
sucli was his name.
‘ You are nothing,’ said the recorder.
‘ No, I aint,’ said Bill; I’m a hobsolete
idear. I guess as how tho vatchmari
took me to be the vonderftil lion, or the
Bengal tiger, ’cause he stirred me up with
a long pole.; but I aint noboddy, and
htuut qot no friend*. ’
‘What do you follow for a living?’
said the recorder.
‘ I follows nothing; and I don’t live at
all !’ replied Bill ; l exists on the myste
rious principle* of vitality, and am a tee
total from compulsion.’
1 Why you qire quite a character !’ said
the recorder.
‘ No, I ain’t ii character neither!’ said
Bill; ‘ I hain’t got no character, no.how.
I’d have no objection to go in cahoot with
a decent feller for a character, but I hain’t
got funds to purchase on my own ac
count.’
‘Well. I shall send you to the work
house for thirty days—perhaps when you
come out you’ll find times easier,’ said
the recorder.
Bill was forthwith walked oil by a
watchman.
Hope.—A bright and beautiful bird is
hope; it comes to us amid the darkness
and the storm, and sings'the sweetest
song when our spirits are saddest and
when the lone soul is weary, and longs
to pass away, it warbles its sunniest notes
and lightens again the tender fibres of
our heart that grief has been tearing
away.
Orientu! Anecdote.
A certain man went to a Dervish, and
proposed three questions—First—“ Why
do they say God is omnipresent? Ido
not see him in any place; show me
where he is. Second—Why is tnan pun
ished for crimes, since whatever he does
proceeds from God? Man has no free
will, for he cannot do any thing contra
ry to the will of God; and if he had pow
er, he would do every thing for his own
good. Third—How can God punish
Satan in hell fire, since he is formed of
that element; and what impression can
fire make on itself?” The Dervish took
up a large clod of earth and struck him
on the head with it. The man went to
the Cazy and said:
“ I proposed three questions to such a
Dervish, who flung a clod of earth at my
head, which made my head ache.”
The Cazy hAVing sent for the Dervish,
asked—
“ Why did you throw a clod of earth
at his head, instead of answering his
questions ?”
The Dervish replied—
“ The clod of earth was an answer to
his speech. He says he has a paid in
his head ; let him show me where it is,
and 1 will make God visible to him.—
And why doc 6 he exhibit a complaint
against me? whatever I did was the act
of God, and I did not strike him without
the will of God ; what power do I pos
sess ? And as he is compounded of earth
how cau ho suffer pain from that ele
ment?”
The man was confounded, and the
Cazy highly pleased with the Dervish’s
I answer,
Texas—l’resident’s Xes-nRe.
The following message of President
Tyler, we copy from the Madisonian of
the 11th inst.
MESSAGE FROM THE PRESI
DENT OF THE U. STATES.
71> l\t House of Representatives of the V. States:
'l’he Treaty negotiated by the Execu
tive with the Republic of Texas, with
out a departure from any form of pro
ceeding customarily observed in the ne
gotiation of treaties, for the annexation
of that Republic to the United States,
having been rejected by the Senate, and
the subject having excited on the
the people no ordinary degree of interest,
I feel it to be my duty to communicate,
for your consideration, the rejected trea
ty, together with all the correspondence
and documents which have heretofore
been submitted to the Senate in its Exe
cutive sessions.
The papers communicated embrace
not only the series aiready made public
by orders of the Senate, but others from
which the veil of secrecy lias nut been
removed by that body, but which I deem
to be essential to a just appreciation of
the entire question. While the treaty
was pending before the Senate, l did not
consider it compatible with the just rights
of that body, or consistent with the re
spect entertained for it, to bring this im
portant subject before you. The power
of Congress is, however, fully competent,
in some other form of proceeding, to ac
complish everything that a former rati
fication of the treaty could have accom
plished; and I therefore feel that I should
but imperfectly discharge my duty to
yourselves or the country, if I failed to
lay before you every thing in the posses
sion of the Executive which would ena
ble you to act with full light on the sub
ject, if you should deem it proper to take
any action upon it.
I regard the question involved in these
proceedings as one of vast magnitude, and
as addressing itself to interests cf an ele
vated and enduring character. A Re
public coterminous in territory with our
own—of immense resources, which re
quire only to bebronirht under the influ
ence of our confederate and free system
in order to he fully developed; promi
sing at no distant day, through the fertil
ity of its soil, nearly if not entirely to du
plicate the exports of the country, thereby
fnrfkinfc- «*» a«tefttrOTi to the carrying
to an amount almost incalculable, and
giving anew impulse of immerse impor
tance to the commercial, manufacturing,
agricultural'and shipping interests of the
Union, and at the same time affording
protection to ari exposed frontier, and
placing the whole country in a condition
of security and repose: a territory settled
mostly by emigrants from the United
States who will bring back with them in
the act ot reciprocation an unconquerable
love of freedom and an ardent attach
ment to our free institutions. Such a
question could not fail to interest most
deeply in its success those who under the
Constitution have become responsible for
the faithful administration of public af
fairs. I have regarded it as not a little
fortunate that the question involved was
no way sectional or local, but addressed
itself to the interests of every part of the
country, and made its appeal to the glory
of the American name.
It is due to the occasion to say that I
have carefully reconsidered the objections
which have been urged to immediate ac
tion upon the subject without in any de
gree having been struck with their force.
It has been objected that the measure ol
Annexation should be preceded by the
consent of Mexico. To preserve the
most friendly relations with Mexico; to
concede to herjnot grudgingly but freely
all her rights; to negotiate fairly and
frankly with her as to the question ot
boundary; to render her in a word, the
fullest and most ample recompense for
any loss she might convince us she had
sustained, fully accords with the feelings
and views the Executive lias al way enter
tained.
But negotiations in advance of annex
ation would prove not only abortive, but
might be regarded as offensive to Mexico
and insulting to Texas. Mexico would
not, I am persuaded, give ear for a mo
ment to an attempt at negotiation in ad
vance, except for the whole territory of
Texas. Wltile all the world besides re
gards Texas as an independent Power,
.Mexico chooses to look upon her as a re
volted province. Nor could we negoti
ate with Mexico for Texas, without ad
mitting that out recognition of her inde
pendence was fraudulent, delusive, or
void. It is only after acquiring Texas,
that the question of boundary can arise
between the United States and Mexico—
a question purposely left open for negoti
ation with Mexico, as affording the best
opportunity for the most friendly and pa
cificarrangements. •
The Executive has dealt with Texas
as a power independent of all others, both
de facto and de jure. She was an inde
pendent State of the Confederation of
Mexican Republics. When, by violent
revolution, Mexico declared the ( onfede
ration at an end, Texas owed her no lon
ger allegiance, but claimed, and has
maintained the right for eight years to a
I separate and distinct position. During
! that peried, no army has invaded her
VOL. 11-NO 6.
with a view to her re-conquest, and if she
has not yet established her right to be
treated as a nation independent de facto
and de jure , it would be difficult to sav
at what period she will attain to that con
dition.
Nor can we, by any fair or nnv legiti
mate interference, he accused of violating
any treaty stipulations with Mexico.—
The treaties with Mexico give no guar
antee of any sort, and are co-existent
with a similar treaty with Texas. So
have treaties with the most of the nations
of the earth which are equally as much
violated bv the annexation of Texas to
the United States, as wan'd 1 »■ onr treaty
with Mexico. The treaty is r- lv com
mercial, and intended as Hu *ni **
tor more accurately and r;nin_
and securing the:frte i * <■ n,
of each country. V, hot bed ft* ,: i <"»••• re
implied or oh -d upon the-Govern
ment of the Uni' States for successfully
negotiating with at; in * mood*; .c power
upon any wbj
lation of sncl treo.'v, I cot?'oss my inabil
ity to disc* !’.
The objections.which have seen taken
to the enlai inntofuui iervi:.** , v
urged with much zeal against the acqui
sition of Louisiana—and y* t the futility
of such has long since been demonstrated.
Since that period anew Power has been
introduced into the affairs of the world,
which has for all practical purposes
brought Texas much nearer to the seat
of Government than Louisiana was at
the time of annexation. Distant regions
are, by the application of the steam en
gine, brought within a close proximity.
With the views which I entertain on
this subject, 1 should prove faithless to
the high trust which the Constitution
has devolved upon me if I neglected to
invite the attention of the Representatives
of the People to it, at the earliest moment
that a due respect for the Senate would
allow me to do so. I should find in the
urgency of the matter a sufficient apolo
gy, if one was wanting, since annexation
is to encounter a great if not certain haz
ard of final defeat, if something be not
now done to prevent it. Upon this point
I cannot too impressively invite your at
terition to my message of the 16th May,
and to the documents which accompany
it, which have not heretofore been made
public. If it be objected that the names
jai the waiters o£,sqni2 of the private let
ters are withheld, all I can say is, that it
is done for reasons regarded as altogeth
er adequate, and that the writers are per
sons of the first respectability and citizens
of Texas, and have such means of obtai
nining information as toentitle their sen
timents to full credit. Nor has any thing
occurred to w eaken, but, on the contrary,
much to confirm my confidence in the
statements of General Jackson, and my
ow.i statements made at the close of rhit
message, in the belief, amounting almost
to certainty, “that instructions have al
ready been given by the Texan Govern
ment to propose to the Government of
Great Britain, forthwith, on the failure,
(of the Treaty) to enter into a treaty of
commerce, and an alliance, offensive aid
defensive.
1 also particularly invite your attention
to the letter from Mr. Everett, our Envoy
at London, containing an account of a
conversation in the House of Lord*
which lately occurred between Lord
Brougham and Lord Aberdeen in rela
tion to the question of Annexation. Nor
can I do so without the expression of
some surprise at the language the Minis
ter of Foreign Affairs employed upon
that-occasion. That a kingdom which
i3 made what it now is h seated acts
of annexation, beginning • the time
of the Heptarchy, and co 'brig with
the annexation of the kin < sos Ire
land and Scotland, should perceive any
principle, either now, or its, in the
late proceedings of the A•. :< •..> Execu
tive iu regied to Tex; wc- c-,:ri:.
led to exert stupri®
If it be pretei
mercial or ■ r .. <
exist hetv - ‘ WW iry-.-, • h;'
a right to • ,vitu its aov—• -•>;-ri
that no th.ru power can change . iv -
lations by a voluntary treaty of union or
annexation, then it would seem to follow
that an annexation to be achieved by
force of arms be the prosecution of a just
and necessary war, coqld in no way be
justified; and yet it is presumed • that
Great Britain would be the last nation in
the world to maintain anj such doctrine.
The commercial and political relations of
many of the countries of Europe have
undergone repeated changes bv volunta
ry treaties, by conquest, and by participa
tions of their territories, without any
question as to the right, under the public
law. The question, in this view of it
can be considered as neither serious nor
novel.
I will not permit myself to believe that
the British Minister designed to bring
himself to any such conclusion ; but it is
impossible for us to be blind to the fact,
that the statements contained in Mr. Ev
erett’s despatch are well worthy of seri
ous consideration. The Government
and people of the United Slates have
never evinced nor do they feel any desire
to interfere in public questions not aff.r
ting the relations existing between the
Suites of the American continent