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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,