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a-UL&ULI ILiBUFIXfitaiVUL Ik most perfect Government would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least —Costs least —Dispenses Jnsliccto all, and confers Privileges on None. —BENTIIAM. BY T. a REYNOLDS. AMERICAN DEMOCRAT, PUBLISHED WEEKLY OVER OLD DARIEN BANK. MULBERRY STREET, MACON, GA. AT $2,50 PER ANNUM, JCrluvarinbly Paid in Advnnce.-05 Rates of Advertising, &c. One square, of 100 worils, or leas, in small type, 75 cents for the first insertion, aiul 50 cents for each subsequent inser t'Oll. All Advertisements containing more than 100 and less than ah) words, will be charged as two squares. To Yearly Advertisers, a liberal deduction will be made. rry- V 11. Sales of LAND, by Administrators, Executors. Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the firs'* Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10 in the fore" •noon, an l 3 in the afternoon, at the Court-llouse in the Coun tv in which the property is situated. Notice of these must i,e »ivcn in a public Gazette, SIXTY DAYS, previous to the •Jay of sale. Sales of PERSONAL PROPERTY, must he advertised in the same manner, FORTY DAYS previous to the day of sale. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must he pub lished FORTY Days. Notice that application will he made to the Court of Ordi tary, for leave to sell LAND, must be published FOUR MONTHS. Sales of NEGROES, must be made at public auction, on ,he first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours of sale, at the place of public sales in the county where the let ters'testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, shall hive been granted, SIXTY DAYS notice being previously given in one of the public gazettes of this State, at) 1 at the door of the Court-House, where such sales arc to be held. Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for FOUR MONTHS, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. _ Alt business of this nature, will receive prompt attention, a the Office of the AMERICAN DEMOCRAT. REMITTANCES BY MAIL. —“A Postmaster may en close money in a letter to the publisher of a newspaper, to pay the subscription of a third person, and frank the letter, if written by himself.” Amos Kendall. V. M. G. All Letters of business mustbeaddtessod to the Pi’blisiieri Post-Paid. WIIY DO THE FLOWERS BLOOM? BY MRS. J. E. CARPENTER. « Why do the flowers liloona mother, Why do the sweet flowers bloom, And brightest those we rear’d mother, Around dear brother’s tomb V* “ To fill the world with gladness, My child, were flow’rcts given— To crown the earth with beauty, And show the road to Heaven! ’ Then why do the flow rets fade mother, Why do the sweet flowers fade, When winter’s dreary clouds, mother, Earth’s brightest scenes pervaded” “ My child, those flow’rs that wither, Have seeds that still remain an.. ., ...a.;. . ......«b.. r .Restore to life again!” •" And shall not those who die, mother, 'Come back to live once more, E’en as the rain and sun, mother, Those beauteous flow’rs restore 1” " Yes —yes, my child, such jxnvcrs To human flow’rs are given, Here earth’s frail flow’rs may blossom, But we may rise —in Heaven. Machine Poetry. SAMPLES. SAMPLE L The devil has come to town they say, And through the Streets doth roam; If he should happen to call for me, Just tell him I’m not at home. sample 11. ’Tis sweet—the west with deep crimson is glowing, And eve o’er the plains her dark mantle is throwing, The night-raven singeth of sorrow; The soft gentle dews on the flovvrets are falling, And a voice like an angel’s methinks I hear calling, ‘ Arise! and get shaved for to-morrow I’ SAMPLE 111. While warriors are fighting, And madly delighting In carnage and slaughter, Oh ! let me sit smoking Or quietly soaking My corns in warm water 1 SAMPLE IV. Memory brings us golden treasures, Fancy culls us fragrant flowers, Marriage yields us hallowed pleasures, Such as filled blest Eden’s bowers; Eating gives the body vigor, Drinking whiskey lights the phiz, Lamp black makes a Guinea nigger Look much whiter than he is. SPOONS, O. G. M. JOHNSTON, JL I I ©irna@ J at MACO\, GEO. OFFICE over the old Darien Dank. March 27—45—ts. SIKTJRB. « SAtTCK&aU ATTORNEYS AT LAW, &i\. Forsyth, March 27 —45—ts. OLIVER H. PRINCE, ATTORNEY AT LAW. .71. 1CO* V, GEORGIA. June 26 —G— ts. MACON, Ga. THE subscriber has again taken this Kb lahliMlllllCllt where lie will cl ways be happy to attend to the calls of his customers, and the travelling public generally. Macon, April 3—46 LAMEit. D3!£C3?..£. I TIw “ jFm JTraUe, ftoto Dutfcs, Jio Sebt, Separation from Baufcs, 25coitom», Jstctrenchmntt, anU a Strict sroiicrnwc to the constltutl3n.*’ MISCELLANY. Affection for tlie Dead. BY WASHINGTON IRVING. The sorrow for the (lead, is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be di vorced. Every other wound would we seek to heal—every other allection forget —but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open—this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother that would willingly lorget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollec tion is like a pang. Where is the child that would willingly forget the most ten der of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour ot agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns—who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portals, would accept of consolation that must he bought by forgetfulness? No, the love that survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights, and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle recollec tion, when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into meditation, on all that it was in the days of its loveliness—who would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? Though it may sometimes throw a pass ing cloud over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hours of gloom, yet who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry ? . No there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a re membrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charm of the living. Oh, the grave!—the grave ! —lt buries every terror—covers every defect—extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bo som spring none but fond regrets and ten der recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and nit feel a compunctious throb,that should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him. .And the graves of those we loved— what a place for meditation ! There it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, j and the thousand endearments lavished ! upon us almost unheeded in the daily j intercourse of intimacy, there it is that ; we dwell upon the tenderness,the solemn, j awful tenderness of the parting scene— j the bed ol death, with all its stilled grief; —its noiseless attendants, its mute, watch-1 fill assiduities—the last testimonies ol ’ expiring love —the feeble,fluttering, thril- j ling, oh, how thrilling, the pressure of the i hand—the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning on us cvpn from the thres hold of existence—the faint faltering accents of allection. Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! Then settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit un requited—every past endearment unre garded, of that departed being who can never—never —never return to he sooth ed by any contrition. If thou art a child, and hast added a sorrow to.the soul, or a furrow to the silver brow of .iffectionate parents—if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth —it thou art a friend, and hast ever Pronged in thought or word, or deed, or spirit, that generosity confided in thee — if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart, which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet—then he sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every un gentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dole fully at thy soul—then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repenting on that grave—and utter the unheeded groan, and pour thy unavailing tears, more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. Then weave the chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties ot nature about the grave, console thy broken spirit, it thou canst, with those tender, yet futile tributes of regret;—but take warning by the bitterness of this thy coni rite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duty towards the living. Dr. Adam Clarke. “A thatched cabin” in the village ol Mobeg, in the north of Ireland, was the birthplace of Adam Clarke, and his in heritance was the universal dispensation of his country —‘poverty.’ The labors of the field added strength to a frame by nature vigorous ; and the most meagre system of education that any civilized country ever extended to its people was his intellectual lot. But this state of things did not appear to obstruct ltis des tinyfon the contrary, his easy victory over all difficulties throws out his char acter into a bolder relief. Adam Clarke having attained the age of nineteen, was admitted through the kindness of John Wesley to a place in Kingswool college, near Bristol, where he added but little to his stock of learning; hut it was here, while digging in 'he garden, that he turn-; MACON, WEDNESDAY, JULY 31, 1844. ed up a golden half guinea, which he laid out in the purchase of a Hebrew Grammar. And it was in this trifling accidental circumstance, much more than in his meeting with the founder of Me thodism, that the acquirements and fame of Dr. Clarke originated ; for, however his learned Commentary may excite ad miration, and preserve his name amongst the celebrated divinity scholars of the age, it is, and ev«r will be, for the variety and extent of his knowledge of Oriental languages and literature that he will be longest held in remembrance. And the foundation of this great fabric was the Hebrew Grammar of which he became the owner so fortuitously.— Fisher's Co lonial Magazine. Campbell. An intelligent and observant American, now residing in London, favors the edi tors of the New York Commercial Ad vertiser occasionally with very entertain ing letters. We extract from one of them the following account of the poet’s last appearance in public: Though I have often met Campbell in private, the last time I saw him in public was at an anniversary dinner of the Lite rary Fund, where, together with four hundred of the multitude, most of the literary men of repute in England had assembled, and some of our own country men among them —Washington Irving and Edward Everett, for instance. Moore, Hal lam, Archbishop Whately, Talfourd, James, and several other men of emi nence spoke in the course of the evening. Campbell was one of the stewards, and upon him devolved the duty of proposing one of the regular toasts: “Mr. Hallam and the histories of England.” The preceding toast had been “ The army and navy,” and the notes of Camp bell’s superb ode, “The Mariners of Eng land,” had scarce died upon the ear, when ht rose to give the health of Mr. Hallam. The evening was far advanced, the room hot, and though Campbell was received on rising with loud cheers and commenced his speech most effec tively, his language as he proceeded be came incoherent and unmeaning, and notwithstanding his age and the nature of the occasion, (sacred to the cause of literature) —the coughing and other signs of disapproval became so audible among the nsse mill ago that he brought his speech to an abrupt close, and sat down evident ly mortified and distressed. Mr. llal -I,Tin’s reply to the toast was brief; and when he ceased speaking Lord Mahon rose to give “Mr. Moore and the poets of England.” Before speaking directly of the writings and genius of Moore, he ad verted to the general spirit of English poetry, and the obligations of English literature to the great poets of the present day. He spoke of the national odes of England, and reminded his audience that a poet was living, was present, who had sung his country’s glory in strains of un equalled grandure aud fire. His Lordship continued—“ The notes of ‘The Mariners of England’ have hard ly ceased to vibrate through this hall; and while the fame of Nelson is cherish ed, while the battle of the Baltic is re membered, let Englishmen never cease to honor him who so eloquently bids them remember Full many a fathom deep By the wild and stormy steep, Elsimore!” The heart of the assembly was touch ed; and the implied rebuke of their late treatment of the poet, and the consequent need of reparation, were so universally felt that they joined their voices like the voice of one man, in a cheer so loud and prolonged that the very walls seemed to tremble. Campbell himself was greatly affected, and tears of joy and pride stream ed down the old man’s cheeks as he part ly rose from his seat and bowed his ac knowledgments to the assembly. He soon afterwards left the room, and I never again saw him on any public occasion. Godly Books. —In 1626, a pamphlet was published in London, entitled “a most delectable, sweet perfumed Nosegay for God’s saints to smell at.” About the year 1646, there was published a work entitled, “a pair of bellows to blow off the dust cast upon John Fry;” and an other, called “the snuffers of Divine Love,” Cromwell’s time was particularly famous for title pages. The author of a work on charity entitles Ins book, “ Hooks and Eyes for Believer’s Breeches ;” and another who wished to exalt poor hu man nature, calls his labors “ High heel ed shoes for dwarfs in holiness;” and another, “ Cru ins of comfort forthe chick ens of the Covenant.” A Quaker whose outward man the “ powers that were” thought to imprison, published “A Sigh of Sorrow tor the Sinners of Zion, breath ed out of a Hole in the Wall of an Earth en vessel, known among men by the name of Samuel Fish.” About the same time there was also published “The spi ritual Mustard Pot to make the soul sneeze with Devotion;” “ Salvation’s Vantage Ground, or a leaping Stand for Heavenly Believers;” and another, “A Shot aimed at the Devil’s head Quarters, through the Tube of the Cannon of the Covenaut; this is an author who speaks plain language which the Illiterate Hep robate cannot fail to understandanoth er, “A Heaping Hook well tempered for the stubborn Ears of the Coming Crops ; or Biscuits Baked in the Oven of Charity, carefully conserved for the Chickens of the Church, the Sparrows of the Sweet Swallows of Salvation ;” to another we have the following copious description of its contents : “Seven Sobs of a Sorrow ful Soul to Sin, or the Seven Penitent Psalms of the Princely Prophet David, whereunto are also annexed William Hnmmi’s Handful of Honey Suckles, and divers Godly Pithy Ditties now newly augmented.” An after-scene of battle near Soltlin. A travelling correspondent, in his de scription, says :—“At one o’clock, the cannonading ceased ; and I went out on foot to Soldin to learn to whose advan tage the battle had turned out. Towards evening, seven hundred of the Russian fugitives came to Soldin, a pitiful sight indeed; some holding up their hands, cursing the King of Prussia; without hats, without clothes ; some on foot, oth ers two on a horse, with their heads and arms tied up ; some dragging along by the stirrups, and others by the horses’ tails. “ When the battle was decided, and victory shouted for the Prussian army, 1 ventured to the place where the canno nading was. After walking some ways, a Cossack’s horse came running full speed towards me. I mounted him, and,on my way, for seven miles and a half, on this side of the field of battle, 1 found the dead and the wounded lying on the ground, sadly cut in pieces. The furth er l advanced, the more these poor ciea tures lay heaped one npm another. “That scene I shall never forget.— The Cossacks as soon as they saw me, cried, “dear sir. water ! water ! Righte ous God ! what a sight! men, women, and children ; Russians aud Prussians, carriages and horses, oxen, chests, bag gage, all lying one upon another to the height of a man ! Seven villages around me in flames, and the inhabitants either massacred or thrown into the fire ! “ The poor wound—what a horrible illustration of the war spirit!—were still firing at one another in the greatest exas peration. The field of battle was a plain two miles and a half long, and wholly covered with dead and wounded ; there was not even room to set my foot with out treading on some of them! Several brooks were so filled up with Russians, that Ido affirm it, they lay heaped one upon another as high as two men, and appeared like hills to the even ground ! I could hardly recover myself from the fright occasioned by the great and miser able outcry of the wounded' A noble Prussian officer, who had lost both legs, cried out to me: ‘Sir, pray show rue some compassion, and despatch me at once.” “ The Times ain't now as they used to was.” —Folks don’t go to bed now-a days—they retire. Nobody eats their dinner—people take some refreshment.— Nobody goes to church—but people at tend divine service. There is no Sun day—it is Sabbath. No one gets his tooth pulled—it is extracted. Instead of drinking tea or coffee, the fashionables only sip a little. No one tears a hole in his pantaloons—but it is no rare thing that he lacerates them. The ladies don’t go a visiting—they only make calls.— Young men don’t go a courting: they only step in to pass the evening. Our gratid-mas used hard-backed chairs, but our belles have stuffed backs to their seats! Punch on long dresses. —lt is a fact that ladies at present wear very long dres ses. Every fact in female fashions is meant expressly to attract notice ; accor dingly, we feel called upon to notice this. Evil has ever its counterpoise of good. It is sad to behold the train bedraggled with mud, but consoling to reflect that it sweeps the crossing. The dust that sat urates the flowing robe might else have bedimmed the boot of Wellington. The drapery which shrouds the exqui site instep conceals, also, the discolored stocking. What matters the bunion, un espied? Elegance may be veiled by su perfluity of vesture ; but it is in the pow er of her proprietress to elevate the flounce ; nor need the ankle of symmetry absolutely be sandalled in vain. Heedlessness, going down stairs be hind Beauty, may tread on her skirt ; but the laceration of the garment is good for trade. Time is one thing : Extent another.— The dress of loveliness may reach from here to Jericho; but what lady, willing ly, would wear a gown longer than a week ? A good book and a good woman are excellent things to those who justly know how to appreciate their value ; but there are many who judgeof both only by their covering. To involve yourself in inextricable difficulty, shape your course of action not by fixed principles, but by temporary expedients. POLITICAL. The Democracy of Georgia. We doubt whefher there is a spot upon earth where the pure Republican spirit burns with a brighter glow titan in our own State. If there is any one quality which distinguishes the honest, intelli gent Georgian, it is that spirit of inde pendence which gives tone to his whole character. Although a warm and zealous partisan, he is not to be bound by the fet ters of party, and if he imagines that an attempt lias been made to clasp these fet ters about him, he is never at rest until they are cast entirely off. Hence Georgia has been considered a fickle, changeable State in her politics. She has been a fickle, changeable State in her parties, but not in her politics. Georgia always has been, is, and always will be Repub lican. And we do not use the term Re publican in that signification which ap plies as well to one political party ns an other. We mean by it that Georgia al ways has been, is, and most probably will be attached as a State, to the principles of the Democratic party; to a Jefferso nian construction of the Federal Consti tution; to the preservation of the Bights of the States, and to a strict limitation of the powers of the General Government. It is true that of late, through the mighty control which the love of power exerts over the minds and hearts of pro minent politicians, the leaders of one of the great political parties in Georgia have very generally abandoned those princi ples, which have always been known as the principles of the State. —That they have done this, however, expecting at the hands of the great Whig master, a “quid pro quo,” and not with a view to the in terests, or welfare, or future prosperity and security of their own State, does not admit of the shadow of a doubt; and so bold and reckless have been their moves upon the political chess-board, that they have ensured their own ruin. Even if actual success should attend them, and apparent success should attend their principles in the approaching conflict, they will have achieved little or nothing in changing the political complexion of Georgia, and two such victories will un doubtedly ruin them. Their profligate course, however, has brought a disgrace upon the name of our State—has given her a character of fickleness, nay, for corruption which she does not deserve. The Democracy should he mote active, more vigilant, more determined to con quer iti the State of Georgia than any other State in the Union; because we shall have to contend here, not simply for the principles of our party hut for the tarnish ed honor of our State, not simply against the old school Federalists of the North, but against the new school Federalists of the South, not simply against the foes of Georgia and her interests in other por tions of the confederacy, but against trai tors to her and her rights, and her wel fare upon her own bosom. But that spirit of independence which characterizes the Democracy of Georgia, while it occasioned the defeat of our par ty in the last, will insure our triumph in tiie approaching contest. The Federal party triumphed in Georgia last year, not through their own strength, but through our weakness. There was division, dis sention and lukewarmness in the Repub lican ranks, these, these and these alone defeated us. Whenever the Democracy of Georgia have been united—whenever they have been satisfied with themselves and their leaders—whenever they have moved in solid phalanx to thc’field of bat tle, they have always proved victorious. Never before, however, have they been as powerful as now, because never before have the principles of their opponents been so clearly avowed and openly ad vocated. The Federal party, under the name of Whig, have been fighting under a mask in Georgia. They never have exposed their real features to the gaze of of the public. But now, in order to strengthen the party generally through out the country; in order to conciliate Northern manufacturers, and to secure lor themselves power and office , they have thrown off the mask, and app. ar in propria persona — Federalists —be- fore the people. But have they, in so doing, strengthened themselves in Georgia? Mark the indications of the | times. See the number of prominent, active, influential men who are deserting their ranks.—Behold the vain efforts which they are making to get up animal ' excitement, by appealing to grovelling i tastes and passions, and see in these un propitious circumstances, the answer. The singular hardihood with which they > have dared to present themselves,stripped of every principle, nay, even ot every profession of principle which may have covered their political nakedness, betore the people, will be met by a popular de nunciation, which has rarely been heard before. The Republicans of Georgia feel that their interests and honor are at stake; and the masses in Georgia are Republi can, and always have been such—the as sertions of Georgia Nullifiers before Northern Federal assemblies, to the con trary notwithstanding. The spirit of lukewarmness which disheartened the Democracy last year, has ceased to exist; all are united in one common brother- VOL. TI—ISO 11. hood ; day after day brings new additions to their ranks of numbers, of talent and of enthusiasm; and hour after hour gives yet stronger indications that they will achieve a glorious victory. Savannah Georgian. Eloquent Extract from the Speech of Mr. Dallas, (democratic candidate for Vice-President,) in the Senate of the United States, February 8, 1833, upon the revenue collection bill. Sec Gales and Seato/i's Congressional Debates, vol. ( Jth, part Is?, page 430. “Sir, 1 have heard our army and navy strangely characterized in the course of ill is discussion. They have been termed hired mercenaries! Do they merit the imputation? Are the band of gallant officers who have shielded you from inva sion, or’earried the national flag in tri umph over every sea and under every sun, hired mercenaries? We used no such language during the war for ‘free trade and sailor’s rights while our tars were humbling a haughty foe, and send ing into oui ports, to be greeted with our acclamations, prize after prize ; or while the scarlet trappings of British enterprise and valor glittered on the heights of Bal timore, or on the plains of New Orleans, destined at both places tocncountcra re lic of revolutionary’worth. We used no such words as ‘hired mercenaries’ then; they were unknown, alike to our hearts and our lips; and may they pass into ut ter oblivion before times equally trying shall again occur. “Our Union is an incalculable blessings While it has lasted, what have we not accomplished, both in peace and in war? All the great objects of human associa tions have been cultivated and attained with unexampled rapidity aud case. Li berty hits been chastened and made for ever stable ; science has been stormed in her hundred trenches, and mastered in her {thousand ramparts; happiness has gently diffused itself throughout an im mense population, taken its own ways over a boundless region of country; and wealth mid power have gradually made the American people rivals of Greek and Roman fame. All the high aims, too,of a virtuous ambition have been reached in war. Independence consummated ; renown every’ where acknowledged ; gto ry, bright amongst the brightest. Yield away the constitution of the Union, and where are wc? Frittered into fragments, and not able to claim one portion of the past as peculiarly its own ! Sir, our Union is not merely n blessing—it is a political necessity. Wc cannot exist without it. I mean, that all of existence which is worth having must depart with it. Our liberties could not endure the incessant conflicts of civil and contermi nous strife; our independence would be an unreal mockery, and our very memo ries would turn to bitterness. .The sena tor from Virginia justly compared our political institutions to the planetary sys tem. I wish he could agree with me in saying, that the great principles of attrac tion and repulsion are equally necessary in the two cases; that the sudden inter ruption o( either must be fatal; and that the national Union of sovereign States can alone preserve us from darkness and chaos.” Dortrnitsofl’lay und Fielln^hiiyseii. The Boston Quarterly Review for July lias an article under the head of “The Presidential Nominations,” &c., in which the portraitures of Clay and Freiinghu sen (the Bane and Antidote) are sketch ed in the following forcible manner: “ Messrs. Clay and Frelinghnysen, re present what we may term ultra Whig istn. Mr. Clay is unquestionably a man of ability. He is a splendid orator; he has great power over the men with whom he comes into immediate contact; but he is no statesman. He is ambitious, but short sighted ; hold, daring, but incapa ble of appreciating general principles or of perceiving the relation between effects and their causes, when these causes are not near at hand. Yet he is abashed by no inconsistency, disturlied by no seli contradiction, and can defend with a firm countenance and without the least mis giving what every body but himself sees to be a political fallacy, or a logical ab surdity. Refute him, demonstrate with mathematical certainty tfiat his proposi tion is false, confront him with names, dates, figures, and he stands unmoved, unconscious of what you have dene, re iterates his proposition in a bolder tone, reasserts it with growing confidence, and pours forth the full tide of his rich tfc suasive eloquence in its defence. You stand aghast. What can the man mean 7 His insensibility confounds you, and you almost begin to distrust your own de monstration of a problem in Euclid. In regard to right and wrong, he man ifests the same sigular self-possession.- He is uo more disturbed by being con victed of moral insensibility than of in tellectual absurdity, lie sees no moral absurdity in determing right and wrong by parallels of latitude, and in declaring a thing to l>e right on one side of a given parallel, and wrong on the other. A man of rate abilities, but apparently void of both moral and intellectual conscience, who finds no difficulty in withstanding, when necessary to his purposes, (lie eter nal laws both of logic aud morality, and