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by then eloquence anil arm. vindicate the
dearest privileges of men !
Though the hooks at the head of this
article contain instances of very bad men,
who have dishonored the profession of law,
yet they are also full of proof that the great
majority of that class have been the noblest
benefactors of society ; that the lives and
exertions of Lawyers, more than those of
any other association of persons, are iden
tified with heroic achievements in the cause
of the common justice of men, socially and
individually And that it has been char
acteristic of the profession, from the earliest
limes, m all phases of society, to exhibit
most sensitiveness in respect to encroach
ments upon human rights, most firmness in
resisting them, mnt vigor and courage in
contending against the acts of tyranny, and
sustaining the triumphs of republicanism.
It has been said by one of the Oxford
scholars, with a sneer, that “they who at
Athens would have become philosophers,
at Home became lawyers/’ The contempt
uous allusion would doubtless have been
spared, if the author of the remark had
known, that the laws of Rome, at the time
of which he wrote, combined all of the
sublimity and reason of Grecian philoso
phy. and that, to be a lawyer at Rome, was
to reach the highest point of wisdom, when
the rights and wrongs of men are gradua
ted to first principles of honesty and jus
tice, and secured on foundations coeval
with truth.
■Before considering the claims ot the
English lawyers to the reputation we have
given, let us look back a moment into the
history of Roman jurisprudence, and make
good our assertions as to Roman lawyers.
Roman lawyers, known as Jurisconsulti,
w ore a class, who studied the law as a sci
ence, and whose lives were devoted to the
separation of its first principles from the
mass of errors and of barbarous customs
which had imperceptibly grown upon it.
The results of their labors form the only
valuable portion o? the Digest of Justinian,
and are wonderful evidences not merely of
industry, but of mind. Their exertions,
too. were eminently disinterested, for they
gave opinions gratuitously, to parties en
gaged in law-suits, and instructed large
classes of young men, without compensa
tion. Cicero followed Sccevola, in his
youth, and has left us a noble tribute to
the eloquence ami-learning of that jurist :
“Q. Scievola, my equal and colleague—
the man in the world best acquainted with
the practice of the civil law—of the quick
est discernment and genius—his style re
markably smootli and polite, and, as 1 used
to say, of all great lawyers the most of an
orator, and of all great orators the most of
a lawyer,"— Cicero tie Oratorc, Book /, 38.
Q. Mucius Scievola / the first eminent
lawyer whose contributions to the law
distinguished him, lived 95 years before
Christ. He prepared eighteen books upon
the civil law r , which, for a very long pe
riod, were quoted as brilliant expositions
ot the philosophy ot jurisprudence. He
administered the law in the province of
Asia with such ability and justice, that a
holyday called Mucia was ordained in hon
or of him. To a character unsullied by re
proach, lie united the very highest abilities,
and splendid powers of oratory. Taking
part in the civil commotions of the time of
Maiius, he was proscribed, and hunted by
assassins. At the altar of the temple of
Vesta, he was cruelly slain, and his blood
long discolored the garments of the god
dess, unrevenged.
Servins Sulpicius Rufus was contempo
lary with Scrrvola He was eminently lit
erary, as the letter to Cicero, on the death
of his daughter, proves. Reproved by Mu
cins for ignorance, he applied himself with
great industry to the study of jurispru
dence, and established a very high reputa
tion as a jurist Nearly two hundred es
says upon the law attest his diligence and i
extent of learning ; and he was considered 1
so well deserving praise, in an age jealous
(and its public honors, that Cicero pronounc
ed his eulogy in the Senate, and a statue
lung existed to commemorate his services.
These were succeeded by Pcrvidius Sccp
vola, Aten is Cap.to, Antistius I,abos, Mo
distums, and a host of others, who, for the
space of three hundred years, appropriated
lame, by devoting their clear intellects and
elegant oratory to the subject of law : il
lustrating and explaining men’s social du
ties, defining the powers of the law, and
developing the attributes of justiep.
Among those who, in England, whitber
the leading principles of the civil law, as
refined by the understandings of the Roman
lawyers, had been transferred, to become
vital principles of the common law, have
left names worthy the regard of posterity—
some have been conspicuous for constitu
tional. some for mere legal honesty of pur- I
pose. The history of jurisprudence has
tew names more venerable than that of Sir
Matthew Hale. At a period when bribery
and corruption were common among men ‘
—regarded as highly meritorious—this or
nament to the name of a judicial officer j
preserved his character so clear from sus
picion, that not a breath of calumny, from
a disinterested witness, ever assailed him j
So delicately did he view the situation of a >
judge, that he refused to sit ujion a cause. ;
in which one of the parties was a person 1
who hail made him a present of a buck.— !
It was the custom of the Dean and Chap- i
ter of Salisbury, to present to a judge riding 1
the weslern circuit six sugar loaves. In
cases where the Dean and Chapter were
parties to a suit, he caused them to be paid
foi this courtesy, before lie entered upon
the trials. The trial of the witches before
Halo, is a remarkable evidence of the ig
norance of his time, but. no reproach upon
his honesty. We must, of course, feel ‘
deep regret that a life otherwise so clear of
stain, an intellect in other respects so free
from cloud, has to be considered wi thrill is j
cloud resting upon it. Rut it is certain j
that it was the ignorance of the age—an j
ignoranee winch long held the New Kng
land colonics in very deep bondage in rc- 1
■ j sped to this very subject ot witchcraft, and
j causes the American to blush at these in
i I stances of barbarity in his country's his
ftory.
It is true that Roger North, in his life of
Lord Keeper Guilford, has incorporated
facts respecting Hale, which qualify the
praises usually awarded. Jfe say, that
Hale’s “bias Jay strangely against char
acters and denominations, and sometimes
against the very habits of persons. If one
party was a courtier, and well-dressed, and
the other a sort of Puritan with a black
cap and plain clothes, he insensibly thought
the justice of the cause was with the lat
ter.” And well might he, when with cour
tiers was identified the guilt of all manner
of corruption and oppression, and with the
plain men of the time, all of injured inno
cence. But it is plain that this remark is
based upon the sympathy of North with
the court party, and with the feelings of
the Lord Keeper, who was always in op
position to Hale's judgments. In various
other places, he pays high tribute to Hale’s
ability and uprightness. He says, Hale’s
“reputation for his great ability in the
law, and rigorous justice, will be long
lived in Westminster Hall, ami the Inns of
Court and Chancery.” He “had acquired
an authority so transcendant, that his opin
ions were, by most lawyers, and others,
thought incontcstible.” “By means of his
great learning, (quoting the Lord Keeper,)
he did the Crown more justice in that court,
than any others in his place done, with all
their good will and less knowledge.” He
was an upright judge. “Ho was allowed
on all hands to be the most profound law
yer of this time, and he knew it, but that
did not serve him ; but he would be also a
profound philosopher, naturalist, poet and
divine. He almost suppressed his collec
tions and writings of the law, which were
a treasure, and being published, would
have been a monument of him beyond the
power of marble. He made no scruple to
send forth little tracts in philosophy, as
the non-gravitation of fluids, Difficiles Nu
g;e, prosecuting the same nugae, or trifles
upon the baroscope —which made Sir Wil
liam Jones say, that his (Hale’s) whole
life was nugarum plena., or made up of tri
fles.’’
We must say that these criticisms go
less far to sustain Roger North's objections
to Hale, than his predilections against
Jones, whom be denounces as showing a
spirit of ambition and envy, and of inde- j
cent solicitation for office.
Among instances mentioned by Roger
North to the discredit of Hale, is one which J
shows him to have been a most firm sup- j
porter of constitutional principle, and re
solved on securing the inviolate authority I
of juries—which was his decision that a j
jury could not be fined by courts, on the j
pretext that they had slighted the evidence j
and directions of the judge. This judg
ment of Hale has been pronounced by the j
Lord Keeper, and by Roger North, as j
“contrary to reason and the whole course |
of precedents: a violation of trust-power!
in the court, and a sanction of scandalous |
instances of ignoramus juries; and yet, in
this decision, we behold one of his strong
est claims to fame, for in it was involved
the most important light of the trial by ju- |
ry—a right, overridden truly by Jeffries j
and some other judicial despots, but ever ]
present to the mind of the English people, j
and the ultimate means of their redemption j
from tyranny.
Not the least meritorious of his acts as ;
u lawyer, was his open, bold defence of I
proscribed persons before the revolutionary j
tribunals of Cromwell, and, particularly, j
his exertions in behalf of Charles the First
—supplying, in the face of the danger ;
which threatened the adherents of the ;
King, with his plea to the jurisdiction of
the court which condemned him. lhis is
a strong fact, and affords abundant evi
dence that one at least of the great lawyers
of that period, courageously maintained
ihe authority of the law, and proscribed j
and resisted those self-constituted judicial
powers, under which, the Constitution of
the realm had well nigh been extinguished
in the blood of its personal representative. I
Avery learned, but singular, man of
that time, was Lord Chief Justice Saun
ders. He was originally a poor beggar
boy, and, as has been hinted, the foundling 1
of a parish. Attaching himself, us a ser- !
vant, to the members of Clement's Inn, he
displayed such extraordinary industry and
desire for knowledge, that he excited the I
benevolence of the attornies. One of these, i
in order to gratify his anxiety to learn to
write, fixed up a board at a window at the i
top of a stair-case, and there he wrote co- j
pies of papers furnished by the clerks. At
writing, he became so dexterous, that he i
1 was soon employed as a copyist, and even
tually became one of the most accomplish- |
e 1 pleaders. He was so addicted to intern- .
perance, that his body became intolerably ;
offensive, and he gradually declined, a mass
of rottenness. His contemporaries bear
I unequivocal testimony to his great ability^
| and great urbanity of character. Os him,
linger North says: “As to his ordinary
dealing, he was as honest as the driven
snow is white. Ami for good nature and
condescension, there was not his fellow.
I have seen him, for hours and half-hours j
! together, before the court sat, stand at the 1
! liar, with an audience of students over I
against him, putting of cases, and debating,
so as suited their capacities and encouraged
their industry: And so in the Temple, he j
seldom moved without a parcel of youths :
hanging about him, and he merry, and
jesting with them.”
There is scarcely a quality, in the char- j
acler of a lawyer, more noble than bis lib-!
’ crudity and countenance to younger mem
bers of the profession. The practice, we
are sorry to say, often exhibited, of frown- j
ing upon the efforts of younger lawyers—
brow-beating and taking advantage of them j
—neglecting opportunities for their encour- j
agement and advancement—evinces such j
mean and contemptible jealousy : is so far
laoiaaiE)© 9 wise aw ©aaniia
below the design of the institution of the
Bar, is so unworthy a great mind, that
wherever we sec it shown, we may rely
upon it, we see a man whom accident, not
merit, has made great. On the contrary,
in the assisting of the youthful aspirant, in
reaching down to take his hand and assist
him to rise, as far below us he toils up the
steep of fame, there is so much of noble
ness of soul, so much of transcendant emi
nence, that, in such a man, we see all that
renders the profession worthy cultivation,
all that dignifies and ennobles the individ
ual members of it. In such instances, the
lawyer honors his calling, and that calling
reflects back upon him, in its turn, the
highest lustre.
[Conclusion next week.]
__ 3'A is “i* £ I
A LEAF
From the Reminiscences or a Chess-
Player.
You may spare your acknowledgments,
Mord&unt. In giving you this letter to the
Hartley's, I am only discharging the obliga
tion which attached to my own introduc
tion. But lam not sure that it is an act of
. friendship to expose you to the fascinations
of two sisters, one of whom isalternately a
i metaphysician and a wit, and the other, the
Anne Page of one moment, and the Bea
trice of Ihe next. For a more accurate
description of her, see any treatise on
Rhetoric, article, antithesis.
I believe I promised to accompany your
letter with some recollections of my ac
quaintance with the family, and you will
at least derive from them this reflect'on, that
one is more frequently indebted to accident
j than scrutiny for the development of the
characters of his friends.
It was my second year in London;
whither I had gone to finish, as some said,
[ but to begin, as I felt, certain studies which :
1 had decided to pursue under the direction
of professors; and I had returned to my
[ rooms, on one occasion, with an ill-sorted
head fill of recollections about Labatie’s
method or Stum's theorem, endeavoring ;
Jto determine whether I should devote the j
evening to kid gloves and the opera, or j
coffee and the chess-club. It was club;
night, and I might again play a Muzio
| against Cartier. Cartier, en passant, was I
! a Frenchman —a memberof the club which j
f meets at the Case de la Regence, and he j
-et up a remarkably skilful defenceagainst 1
I the onsets of the Muzio gambit. I had i
I played twice with him : the openings, in j
! both games, belonged to this gambit: and ;
both were drawn. So chess prevailed. I ‘
ordered tea; took up a situation by Lolli, j
to while away the intervaol; and had just!
discovered the solution, when the hell rang,
and a servant entered with a note--an in
vitation to pass a day or two at Hartley
Place.
I may tell you here I have no penchant for
rusticity, the worm will never have attain
ed the civility of which it is capable, until
the existence of lawns and cottage win
dows shall become the subject of antiquari
an discussion ; until the termini of streets
shall he designated by longitude marks, or
the extent of a fashionable promenade de
scribed in degrees and minutes. When
Paris shall be the west-end of Constantino
ple, or St. Petersburgthe suburb of Pekin;
and l abdicated my arm chair and slippers
for Hartley Place—not for the opportunity
of looking at half a hundred acres of those
| overgrown vegetables called oaks ; or of
1 telling tnv friends at the breakfast table,
j how much I admired the prospect from my
j room-window—three fields, perhaps, each
i with its bird cage in the middle—or of
i wearing out, at once, my boots and pa
j tience, endeavoring to keep within hail of
! a party of hair-brained pedestrians—peo
ple who are addicted to morning walks,
and whose feats at fence and ditch cross
ing, would appal any one who lacked the
locomotive facilities of the frog.
Without any of these motives, I accept
’ ed the invitation because it was safe—as
my friends were unlike those who hunt you
i down wito invitations, unlike in education,
unlike in all respects, it was safe to await
the contingencies of a day among them :
| secure that I should not be suddenly trans
| formed into the victim of a farce in two
■ acts; the incidents of which might be the
; insolence of a chamber-maid, or the casu
i ality of a broken china cup.
1 had been occupied for some weeks in
i developing a situation at chess, and not
supposing in mine innocence, that hospi
• tality required one to become the shadow
|of his entertainers, 1 anticipated a little
spare time, and provided for its pleasant
i occupation by putting a set of chess men
into my carpet bag; and this act in which
| the most penetrating foresight would detect j
no remarkable consequences, was destined j
J to make me the object of invectives, to ac- j
count for the violence of which, if you or I [
had indulged in them, our friends would
resort to the Metempsychosis, and discov
er, in the unprovoked malignity of the tiger,
the probability that a thousand years ago
we had infested the banks of the Ganges,
and that subsequent transmigrations had
j not wholly changed the ferocity of our
natures.
It was the last evening of my stay at
Hartley l’lace, and an unbroken succession
|of pleasant employments had crowded its
hours into minutes; had made me forget
i even the chess box. The party bad pass
’ ed the evening in the grove, and having ac
cidentally become separated from it, and
! feeling somewhat indisposed, I bethought
me of the unfinished problem, and hasten
ed to make its re-statement for the twentieth
time. The clock struck eleven as I enter
ed the corridor, and I turned into one of the
first sitting rooms, anxious to improve ev
ery moment of a silence which nothing dis
turbed but iny own footfall. The clicks’
of the chess men as one by one they took
their (dares upon the squares, seemed the t
auguries of successful experiment, and so
it proved to be. Difficulty after difficulty
j yielded, until but one remained, to avoid a
check by discovery, and its removal was
the work of a moment.
Delighted, I gazed upon the chess board
until its mimic combataats had become real.
The pawn was transformed into afoot sol
dier, and I saw his scowl of defiance as he
stepped forward to take the place of a fall
en comrade. The Bishop avoided by skil
ful mameuvring, the onset of his knighted
: adversary, and the Queen swept across the
field, now encouraging her foil we rs, and
! now striking down some hardy foeman,
who bolder than the rest, sought unsup
! ported to stay her progress. 1 do not know
; how long this glorious illusion lasted, but
suddenly it vanished with a crash and I
sprang up to confront its destroyer in Alice
Hartley.
I attempted an exclamation, but its utter
ance was cut short by a most violent phil
ippic against what my fair friend appeared
to consider an unpardonable departure
| from propriety, that 1 had presumed to
j make my own convenience a criterion of
conduct, when I had been graciously per
; mitted to fashion it after the whims of
others. She insisted that my withdrawal
: from the grove was high treason against
1 good breeding, not because it affected her
. —she had been very pleasantly occupied
the w hile ; nor, indeed did she condescend
I to tell me whom it had affected. It was
enough that she chose to denounce it, and
! to upset at once my equanimity and chess
’ men as a punishment.
’ She paused abruptly in her denuncia
: tions, and regarded me with that fixedness
| of eye, which betrays intense curiosity to
hear what one is about to say. I thought
i she tried to discover what was the predomi
j nant emotion she had excited, and I thought
! too that the placid expression her face had
suddenly assumed, indicated the reaction
which precedes regret, and I could have
forgiven her then if she had not taught me
to distrust her. Collecting the scattered
chess men, I bowed good night, merely ob
serving I had no comment to make upon the
occurrence until she was more reasonble,
and sought my chamber, not to sleep, nor,
as you may suppose to fret over the anihi
lation of the labor of long days and nights.
With me, as with Polonius, it only re
mained “to find the cause of this effect,”
that I might decide how to act; but my
speculations were not rewaded with even
a probability ; and when nature was over
come, and I slept fitfully, it was to live the
scene ove r with modifications of no pleas
ing character.
Methought I was again at the chess
board, and that a familiar tap roused me
from its contemplation to discover that I
was watched by a stranger.
His face was wholly unknown to me,
and I should have immediately enquired his
name had not an unconstrained manner
suggested the posibility that he might be a
family .acquaintance whom I had never
seen.
“ Y'ou are fond of chess,” he observed as
he drew a chair near the chess table—
“and I congratulate myself on the acciden
tal discovery of your passion; because 1
; hope it may prove the bond of a mutual at
tachment. But come; let me make the
first overture to ouracquaintance in propos
ing a game to you. You may find me un
practised, as I have not played much of
late. Indeed, my last was with Boi.”
1 had the Devil for an adversary! Boi
had been dead two hundred and fifty years.
“You will permit me,” he continued,
“to gratify my preferance for color in se
lecting the red party. It is my weakness.”
I I bowed assent, and we arranged the chess
i men.
Having drawn the move, I offered my
j Satanic adversary the King’s gambit, hop
ing he would give me an opportunity of
playing a Muzio, and my anticipations
were realized. He advanced the Knight’s
| pawn—and when i castled, I thought I
perceived a slight smile at what he deem
ed an oversight. He captured the Knight,
and a few moves developed an attack,
which had become irresistible before he
was aware of it. Sensible, at length, the
defeat was inevitable, he slowly raised his
eyes, hitherto fixed upon the board, and
they seemed to blaze in their sockets. It
wasa trick to disturb my self-possession;
and baffled in his only expedient to avoid
defeat, he overthrew the table, and disap
peared amid a confusions of sounds that
instantly awoke me.
It was late ; and I descended to the
breakfast-room, calculating the chances of
taking my roll and coffee alone. The fam
ily had all assembled, except Alice ; and I
at first inferred from her absence a dispo
sition to avoid me. However, she entered
a moment alterwards; aud as she bade me
good morning, her face exhibited a sereni
ty as prepossesing as it was paradoxical.
I returned her greeting cordially, but with
the slightest approach to formality. Hav- j
ing determined never to allude to the occur-1
rence at the chess-table, my convenience I
required that she should be silent; and when I
I saw that she had detected the change of!
tone in which I had reciprocated her civil
ity, I no longer feared an explanation.—
We had ceased, as I thought, to be friends;
and allusion to the past would be inconsis
tent with the etiquette of mere acquaint
anceship. In truth, this contretemps with
Alice half disposed me to reconstruct my
acquaintance with all womankind upon
the basis of ceremony; and never to per
mit its extension beyond the civility’ of a
bow. or the utterance of a half dozen mon
osyllables. I was hereafter to know them ;
as the chemist knows Chloride of Nitro- !
gen, or any equally dangerous fulminative. j
Indeed, I thought seriously of classing ,
women among explosive compounds; and
nothing but the impossibility of stating her 1
elements, would have prevented a pencill
ed asterisk and its margined reference from
being tacked to some formula for the pre- 1
paration of gunpowder.
But it was destined that I should think !
better of women; ami that I should modi
fy if not abandon, the conclusions upon
; which I had decided to act.
The time had come for my leave taking :
and I sought the family, anxious to escape j
from associations which were momently 1
becoming painful. 1 had to pass through
the drawing-room; and I entered it to dis
cover that the ordeal of paying my vale
dictory compliments to Alice awaited me
there.
Assuming an expression, half indifferent,
I approached her to talk ironical regrets on
: the termination of my visit; but their ut
, terance was stayed by the look which
seemed to expect no unkindness from me.
I was embarrased.
“Come,” she exclaimed, as she observed
it, “your visit must have no unpleasant
reminiscences, if I can prevent them. Let
an avowal of regret atone for the indiscre
tion of a moment; and restore that cordi
ality, which, I am pained to perceive, my
i impulsiveness has threatened to impair.”
I took the hand which she extended as
j she finished speaking, feeling keenly the
| wrong I had done such a woman in deny
j ing her a good heart; and we were friends.
I am never disposed to think unkindly
of a woman, that the recollection of this
scene does not rise np to condemn me. A
being, endowed with the generous instincts
of Alice Hartley, may not be perfect; nor,
because she is not, shall we presume to de
ny to her the possession of qualities at least
as excellent as ours.
But I do not intend to inflict upon you
an enumeration either of my repentances
or reflections, Mordaunt; and it only re
mains for me to wish you a safe deliverance
from the perils of your voyage ; and that
upon your return, “you will not lisp, wear
strange suits, and disable all the benefits of
your native country,” to prove that you
have “ swum in a gondola.” B.
Spirit of the Times.
It is curious to note the old sea
margins of human thought! Each subsi
ding century reveals some new mystery;
we build where monsters used to hide
themselves.
ffc'3"’ A careless compositor lately dis
solved the Union by transposing two let
ters, whereby the United States became the
Untied States.
CsaJ* Gravity is an arrant scoundrel, and
one of the most dangerous kind too, be
cause a sly one.
JSkjf” An elderly lady says it always re
minds her of carrying coals to Newcastle,
when she sees girls kissing each other.
Sensible, is she not ?
It is calculated by an English pa
j per, that Charles Dickens received 2s 6d
i for every word in his last work, “ The
i Ghost’s Bargain.”
What a deal of cold business doth
a man spend the better part of his life in
in scattering compliments, tendering visits,
[gathering and vending news, following
j feasts and plays, making a little winter love
I in a dark corner.
A Kentucky paper, speaking of the
extravagant gestures of some of their law
j yers, says they “ punctuate their words
with punches.”
Mademoiselle Duthe lost one of
her lovers, for whom she affected a great
| devotion. A gentleman, calling on her
soon after, found her playing the harp, and
exclaimed, with surprise,
1 Mon Dieu ! I thought I should have
found you plunged in the very depths of
despair!’
‘Ah, replied she, in the most pathetic
tone, 1 1 was yesterday, and you should
j have seen me then!’
When did Adam first use a walk
; ing-stick ? Ans.—When Eve presented
| him with a little Cain.
IKS'” At a wedding the other day, one of
the guests, who often is a little absent
i minded, observed gravely, “ I have often
j remarked that there have been more wo
j men than men married this year.”
I A lady in New Hampshire, being
j asked the other day to join the “Daughters
jof Temperance,” replied, that it was un- ‘
| necessary, “as (said she) it is my intention 1
to join one of the Sons soon.” 1
BSsF’ A correspondent of the People’s
Press, writing from Moosehead Lake, says: 1
“We have taken across the Lake the lar
gest raft of logs ever on it. It contained, 1
by actual survey, twenty-one and three- ‘
fourths acres. Beat this who can !”
“Is that clock right, over there I”
asked a visitor the other day.
„ 1
“Right over there?” said the <
boy ; “ taint no where else.” I
JBSy* If you don't want to fall in love (
with a girl, don’t commence flirting with ]
her. i
Laugh at no man for his pug nose; t
you can never tell what may turn up. 1
The scornful lip of the Aristocrat, *
who boasts of his worldly possession, may 1
be curled in proud defiance at the industri
ous mechanic, the sweat of whose brow c
earnshis daily bread; but the head of the one 1
is often emptier than the shadow of vanity, 13
while that of the other is the personifica- i
tion of genius, the embodiment of all that r
is lofty and splendid in thought. *
The Roman General Marius re
plied to the Gaul who had sent him a a
challenge, “ If you are tired of life you £
cun go and hang yourself.”
“ I wonder what makes my eyes a
so weak,” said a loafer to a gentlenan.—
“Why because they are in a weak place,”
replied the latter. j
Every married man should let his )
wife have the management of the Home f
Department, and give her, as Secretary, g
the control of the different Bureaus. It b
won t do, however, to let her have control s
of the War Department. ! 8
ii is !L J :-D J & U S ♦
j SUNDAY READINGS, FOR AUG, 19.
WAITING FOR GOD'S SALVATION.
“It is goad that a man should both hope and
quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.” Lam.
iii. 26.
Jeremiah wrote this book under pecu
liar circumstances; in it he bewails the
low and depressed state of the Church,
and the destruction of Judah atid Jerusa
lem by the Chaldean army. In this pas
sage we have three things :
The object of pursuit. “The Salvation
of the Lord.” This expression as used in
Scripture sometimes alludes to temporal de
liverances, but is mostly employed in a
higher sense, to denote the salvation of the
soul. This is an object worthy the pur
suit of a rational, accountable, and immor
tal being. Notice
Its nature, “ Salvation.” It includes
everything that is adapted to the condition
and requirements of man, that can possibly
conduce to his happiness,—pardon, peace,
acceptance with God, conformity to the
Divine image, and a full and final posses
sion of everlasting glory.
Its source. “Os the Lord.” It is the
salvation of man as he is the subject of it,
and of God as he is the author and source
of it. He announces it in his word re
veals it by his Spirit, and imparts it by his
grace.
The exercise required. “Hope and qui
etly wait.” It is two-fold. Confident ex
pectation. It is not vain hope through
merit but good hope through grace that in
spires the Christian. It is well grounded
hope, and one that will not make ashamed.
Patient waiting. To wait quietly is not
to wait in idleness, but in the pursuit of
various duties. Simeon served God in the
temple, while he waited for the consolation
of Israel. Job exclaimed, “All the days
of my appointed time will I wait till my
my change come.”
The benefit realized. “It is good.” It
is so in many respects. Because it tends
to God's Glory. We dishonor God when
we are impatient, either in the endurance
of or in waiting for mercies. Be
cause it gives compos re of mind. Impa
tience puts a man out of the possession of
himself. Therefore our Lord says, “In
patience possess ye your souls. Because it
inspires vs with courage. It enables us to
meet trials, encounter difficulties, and en
gage in duties with Christian fortiiude.—
Because it will issue in endless happiness.-
We shall not hope and wait in vain. The
accomplishment of his purposes and prom
ises is certain. This affords every encour
agement to the sincere inquirer after salva
tion, and gives the strongest consolation to
‘.he tried Christian.
fifsY* To me, the world presents no sight
so harrowing to the feelings as that of a
grey-headed old man who uses profane
language. It is, as it were, to blaspheme
at the very judgment seat of the Almighty
Judge.
DIJB losiflFjs IE £5 -
For Richards’ Weekly Oazette.
LETTER FROM CHARLESTON.
Charleston, Aug. 14, 1849.
My Bear Sir: The dull monotony of
the season threatens to be slightly broken
in upon by the approaching Municipal
Elections, in September. Opposition has
been started against our present City Fa
thers, on various grounds—many of them
sufficiently ridiculous to “take” with the
rabble effectually. One most important
source of cavil involves the assertion of a
principle, with the exercise of a constitu
tional right, from which no lover of good
order and law should shrink, however in
different he may be to the personal claims
of candidates. A memorial was present
ed, several months ago, to the present Coun
cil, praying for a reform in the License
Laws, so as to prohibit the sale of liquors,
to be drunk at the place where sold—thus
making one bold step towards the aboli
tion of the greatest domestic nuisance with
which our otherwise favored city has ever
been cursed. With commendable moral
courage and independence, all personal
considerations of official preferment were
at once sacrificed to settled convictions of
duty, and the memorial was duly acted
upon, in spite of the retaliation which
might naturally be expected under such
circumstances. Our rulers stood firm, un
dismayed by published threats, intended to
intimidate them into a forced compliance
with the dictation of another party, under
penalty of ostracism in September. The
“day of reckoning” is not far offj and it is
to be hoped the good sense of their con
stituents will sustain them in their novel
position. It is quite a rare treat to find
independence in public men; and when it
does accidentally exhibit itself, it becomes
the sacred duty of good citizens to defend
it against its consequences. Time will
prove whether our people so regard it.
Indian troubles in Florida appear to have
commenced in good earnest. Orders were
received here, about a week since, for a
detachment of Artillery to proceed to St.
Augustine; and with commendable prompt
ness, Company F, under command of Lieut.
Robinson, embarked on the following day, J
in the steamer Nina, Capt. Magee. They ‘
arrived at their destination after a very |
short voyage, having made the trip from [
bar to bar in twenty-one hours. The of
ficers speak highly, in their letters, of the
accommodations of the steamer, and the
gentlemanly deportment of her commander.
The Commissioners appointed to super
intend the erection of the new Custom i
House, are advertising for proposals for
furnishing Granite, to be delivered on Fitz
simons’ Wharf, near the Market. The
building is to be 240 feet by 120, and 3
stories high, the first being a basement 1
story.
L. T. Potter, Esq., one of our enterpriz
ing citizens, has succeeded in the erection
of anew Market and Ice Honse for the
Neck, which are both already well patron
ized. The Market has just been completed
—is 150 feet in length and 40 in width—
containing 24 meat and <3 vegetable stalls,
ami fish stalls in proportion. The stalls
have all been taken.
Every day’s trains carry off from among
us large crowds, on their way to the moun
tains and watering-places of your State.
I “Georgia” is all the fashion now, and who
. ever fails to visit the Madison, Rowland or
Indian Springs, or Athens, at some time du
ring this Summer, xvill be considered quite
ante-diluvian. I shall myself, in this re
spect, at least, rank among the fashiona
ablcs, as I shall visit all or most of these
places during the ensuing three weeks—
and shall not forget the “ Gazette Office” in
my travels.
Sullivan!# Island continues to be throng
ed with visitors from the city and up-coun
try, many of whom have taken up their
residences for the summer, to enjoy the
bracing sea-breeze and bathing in the surf.
1 The Island is densely crowded with houses,
: thickly built up, in many portions, and ev
[ ery boarding and private house filled—none
to be had for love or money. A company
’ of enterprizing gentlemen has been form
ed, for the purpose of erecting, before the
next season, a spacious Hotel, with exten
sive and comfortable accommodations.—
Such an improvement has been long need
ed, and the investment will undoubtedly
be a very profitable one to the stockholders.
Our City is unusually healthy. Ten
deaths last week, out of a population of
over thirty thousand, and six out of the ten,
, little babies , teething! Can any of the
mountains and watering-places of Georgia,
or South Carolina, beat that? I say noth
ing of similar resorts at the North, where
Cholera isas much the fashion as Fancy
Masquerades. By the way, speaking of
Masquerades, your neighbor of the “Mad
ison” is about taking the shine off his
brethren of Saratoga. I fear I shall not
be in time to see the fun there this week.
The weather has been quite seasonable:
warm enough for August, though still far
behind New York and Philadelphia; noth
ing over 90.
Your's, truly, H.
£ © ST ft 7 >
From XVheler's Monthly Magazine.
OCONEE.
BY HENRY R. JACKSON, E'Q.
| Oconee !in my tranquil slumbers,
At tho silent, dead of night,
j Oft I sec tby golden waters
Flashing in tho rosy light;—
On tho spirit of my dream,
I As in moments fled forever,
When I wandered by thy stream ;
j A surest lad—a careless rover—
Rising at the dawn of day—
With iny dog and gun—a hunter.
Shoaling o’er the hills away ;
I And over would my shoeless footprints
j Trace the shortest path to thee; —
. There the plumpest squirrel ever
Chuckled on the chestnut tree.
- And when at noon the snn of summer
Glowed too fiercely from the sky,
On thy hanks were bowers grateful
To a rover such as I
Among the forest branches woven
By the richly-scented vine,
Yellow jasmine—honey-suekle,
And by creeping innseadsno.
i And there 1 lay in pleasant slumber,
And the rushing of thy stream
Ever mado a gentle music,
Blending softly with my dream—
My dream of her, who, nenr thy waters,
Grew beneath my loving eye—
Fairest maid of Georgia’s daughters—
Sweetest flower beneath tho sky !
With snowy brow and golden ringlets,
Eyes that beggar’d heaven’s blue,
Voice ns soft as summer’s streamlets,
Lips ns fresh as morning dew—
Although she played me oft the coquette,
Dealing frowns and glances sly,
Theso hut made her smiles tho dcaror
To a rover such as I.
What if tho earth by fairer river
Nursed more beauteous maid than she ;
lie hail proved a slow believer
Who had told that tale to me !
And sure 1 am no knighted lover
Truer faith to “ladyc” bore,
Than the little barefoot rover,
Dreaming by thy pleasant shore.
Tho happiost hours of life are vanished—
She has vanished with them, too!
Other bright-eyed Georgia damsels
Blossom where my lily grew ;
And yet tho proudest and the sweetest
To my heart can never seem
Lovely as the little Peri
Nouldering by thy murmuring stream.
EACH IN ALL.
BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON,
Little thinks, in tho field, yon red-cloaked clown
Os thee , from the hill-top looking down;
And the heifer that lows in the upland farm,
Tar heard, lows not thine car to charm ;
The sexton, tolling the bell at noon,
Dreams not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse and lists with delight,
As hisjilcs sweep round yon distant height;
Nor knowest thou what argument
1 hy life to thy neighbor’s creed hath lent;
All are needed by each one—
Nothing is fair, or good alone.
I thought the sparrow's noto from Heaven,
Ringing, at dawn, on the aldcr-bougb,
I brought him home in his nest at even:
lie sings the song—but it pleases not now ;
Fori did not bring home the river and sky—
He sang to my ear —they sang to my cyo.
The delicate shells lay on the shore—
The bubbles of tho latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave ;
And the bellowing of the savago sea
Greeted their safe escape to me.
1 wiped away the weeds and foam,
And fetched my sea-born treasures home ;
Hut the poor, unsightly, noisome things,
Had left their beauty on the shore,
With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar.
Nor rose, nor stream, nor bird is fair,
Their concord is beyond compare,