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WAS LOVED ONCE.
BY GUILLAMO.
But once in all my youth
The flower ofHeaven one single bud enchanted
Unclosed for me, yet still my soul is haunted
By visions starry, melodies divine,
Fancies so rare I scarce can cal! them mine.
From its immortal fragrance springing
And what care I forsooth
Thn\ life’s fierce thorns have long since to me
clung— .
That hope's death-shriek within my brain has
rung—
That fate a Banshee song for me is singing,
When from my perished youth
Remains this cherished truth.
And, Lord, who should repine.
When this sweet gift of thine—
Gift deathless and divine,
Even 1 could claim as mine.
Mad all Her Days.
By MRS. AMELIA V. PURDY.
CHAPTER VIII.
It is early candle light and V ale is trimming
hats by the centre table. Bertie lies asleep on
the floor and the bright lire makes the room
cosv and comfortable. She is singing softly as
she* works and the rounded contour of her hap
py, care-free girlhood is again h«rs and her
cheeks have the delicate color of the heart of a
sea-shell. She is lovely to look upon in her
dark bine merino with soft ruches of ‘footing’
at the wrists and throat. The beautilnl hair is
coiled on the top of the perfect head but curls
stray out here and there and cluster about the
forehead alive with thought. Over the snow
of the daintily small hands stream the scarlet
ribbon she is Rtiching on the hats. She hears a
step and looks up, rises but changes her mind
and only nods to Mrs. Horton who comes in
ghastly and abstracted as usual and takes the
rocking chair and draws it close to the tender.
Vale glances at her furtively, sighs and works
on. Presently Mrs. Horton observes:
•Vale, this wHl be a terrible night on the poor
—the thermometer is 12 degrees below zero and
falling.' , A . , ,
Vale rises, tosses the bonnet on the table and
disencumbers her visitor of her hat and veil,
shivering as her hands come in contact with the
hands that are hot as tire.
‘Mrs. Horton, let me bring you a cup of tea,
you need it,'she says positively p.s Salome shakes
her head, and she goes to the dining room and
returns with it and makes her drink it. Salome
gazes at her with such a world of love and ad
miration in the eyes that are sunken and lustre
less; then she says:
‘It is a year since I left him and in all that
time you have not asked me a question. Vale,
yon are one woman among a million. Dear, I
would have confided in you had my confidence
in no wise affected another anti in my case to re
veal my secrets would necessarily have involved
the betrayal of another. I am going away and I
have brought you a little gift which you are to
wear in remembranee of the dull woman who
never entered your bright household without
giving you pain. It was my mother’s brooch
and I never could bear to part with it.’
She pinned it in the soft lace at Vale’s throat
and went back to her seat. It was an opal clus
ter, the central stone of perhaps four carats,
each stone encircled with tiny but exceedingly
brilliant diamond points. Vale caught the fe
verish hnnds and asked:
f Are you going far, Salome. ’
She smiles down upon her fairy-like ques
tioner. -
• very tar dear—solar that the distance has
never been computed.’
Vale drops her bright faco quite down to the
table and there is dead silence. Presently she
looks up and the tears stream down her cheeks.
‘Is there no hope ?’
‘None.’ The brave tones do not falter. I was
examined to-day. Dr. Thayer warned me that
agitation would cause death and yet I must see
him to-night; I have business to arrange and a
request to make. \ale, don t cry, why should
you want to keep me where I am so miserable.’
‘But sometimes you might be reunited to Mr.
Horton and be happy again,’ Vale falters through
her tears.
•Impossible,’ she replies with stony emphasis.
‘If I lived a hundred years I would not return
to him.’ . . , .
She throws her arms about her grieving friend,
kisses her, and when Vale saw her again she lay
in a satin-lined casket, An hour later, Camber,
in a fnr-lined overcoat walks homeward- It
is a terrible night, albeit the stars are countless
in the dark blue of the skies, and there is not
the slightest breeze. A night that suggests the
poems of a certain poet we wnt of, that this
country honors, beautiful, cold, clear and hard
as Lignum Vitre, and soulless, because the
strong pulse of suffering humanity is unfamil
iar to him, deaf by decades of luxury, deaf to
woe, sorrow, trouble, death and the countless
ills of life, because prosperity and friends and
adulation have been his since birth, and in no
wise superior to the delicate, refined, tender,
humane singers of the land of the mocking bird
and the orange only that the one people are
prompt to strew flowers and to magnify and fos
ter, the other are slow to applaud. A woman
passes him slowly and with uncertain steps.
He recognizes her and follows her. She has
neither shawl nor cloak about her and her lace
gieams white in the darkness. She steps into a
doorway and waits. Camber steps into the ad
joining doorway and waits also. Two doors be
low, Horton’s splendid house nprears, and
through the stained glass doors of the vestibule
light streams out on the snow. Mr. Horton de
lights in illumination and the front ol the man
sion is in a blaze of light. Perhaps the dark, is
fearful to corrupt consciences, moreover with a
slight stretch of the imagination it can be peo
pled with unpleasant visitors, and in the strong
light, ghost has not yet been visible to mortal
eyes. Enpassant, when the wild eyed medium
can call up at will, in the daylight spirits ot In
dians and tfie spirits of Demosthents, (he seems
to be a prime favorite with the deranged sister
hood) we intend to become a spiritualist,but not
till then and the spirit thus evoked, must not
wear silk dresses and we object to its possess
ing blood, bones or speech—it must be .the
shadow of a substance only, so that when we
clasp it, our hands will only cut through air,
which uniting again will form the spectre In
dian with his Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum look and his
scalps at his girdle. Whistling cheerily Hor
ton comes down the steps and his wife glides
from the doorway and stops him with a simple
‘ Wait a moment, Mr. Horton.’
‘Salome? My God ! what do you mean by
coming here such a night as this.’
Camber crouches down by the stoop and lis
tens. He desires to fiave his suspicions con
firmed and cares not how he obtains the infor
mation.
‘There is no hot or cold to the troubled or the
poor,’ she replies, ‘ but I will not detain you
long. I am going away and I wish you to turn
over the twenty thousand dollars yen offered me
a month back to Mr. Camber. I want it put out
at interest, tho interest to be devoted to the sup
port of delicate well-raised widows who are not
able to work; will yon so instruct him ?’
‘ I will,’ very coldly, then angrily, * I dare
yon leave this town. Where ever you go I will
follow you. Don’t you know you will get your
death standing there without a shawl.’ He
ttakes off' his fur lined cape and put" t . . I
ber shoulders still angry of speech and face.
How little he understood women. Had he tak
en her in his arms, tenderly and lovingly,
strong as she was. he had conquered.
‘ May I ask how far you are going and how
long yon will be absent.’
She wonders why he cannot hear the sonor
ous beats of her heart, the pain of which pulsa
tions whiten her lips.
‘God never made a crueler woman than you
are,’ he continued. ‘ I loved you so well that if
yon left the room half an hour you took all the
sunshine with you. When our children were
born I nursed you because I would not trust
any hireling with the life that was so inestima
bly precious to me. In the five years of our
wedded life I never gave you a cross word, and
because I would not change the black of my
eyes to blue, yon left me. Since the world was
made no woman ever left a man before for such
a cause.’
She raised her hand impressively.
‘If I—demanding truth and honesty from
yon, demanded the impossible, I pray God to
forgive me. If it were as easy for you to change
your black eyes to blue as to change your moral
nature, I ask you to forgive me and God will
hold you guiltless. For the times, I have been
selfish and ungrateful and remiss in my wifely
duty, I crave your pardon, and when I am gone,
try to think kindly of me, and remember only
my good qualities. Will you try to do this ?'
‘ No,’he answered, excitedly. ‘I curse the
day I ever saw you—the day you were born, I
wish yon had never crossed my path. Yon have
made my life a hell, men and women who had
faith in me lost it when you left m~. But if you
will come back I will forgive you for sowing
my hair thick with gray and breaking my heart.’
‘It is too late,’ she says wearily. ‘Edgar!
marry again and be happy, and I pray God to
give you a new heart and to bless you, and the
woman you will marry, and your children and
children’s children.’
How deliciously cool the air is as it strikes
her Hot head and feverish temper, while the lan
cet pains at her heart grow fiercer and fiercer.
‘You will not come then ?’ Horton asks, and
his voice indicates that he is crying. She hesi
tates a moment and then says:
‘Yes; I have changed my mind, I will go to
your house in the morning.’
He clasps her in his arms and kisses her and
pleads with her not to wait until morning, and
finding her resolute and half fearful that she
will alter her mind he sees her to the door of
Mrs. Langley's and returns home.
At half past two a. m., Camber is on his way
home from the Masonic Lodge and passes Hor
ton’s. On his steps sits a woman and the bright
moon-light never bathed a more exquisite face.
Camber goes up and lifts one of the small hands.
It is icy cold, he places his hand on the low
temples around which the golden tendrils cling
and then he lifts the inanimate form and rings
the bell furiously. Horton had seen too dis
turbed in mind to sleep and opens the door.
Camber says simply:
‘ Mrs. Horton has come home as she said.
Horton, God knows I pity you. She has been
suffering terribly with heart disease for months,
I presume you know, and the agitation ol
your interview last night caused her death.’
He laid her down on the sofa and added:
‘I too loved her, and I have never concealed
it. Now and then in centuries, women like her
are born to show ns what a divine thing a wo
man can be, but it they were the rule instead of
the exception, there would be no need for
preachers, for each home would be a temple
dedicated to God.’
Horton does not hear him. He is absorbed
in his own sufferings, in his own sense of loss
and disappointment.
-.The funeral is largelv attended and rr^-yr-v
i is pityingly spoken of jver the great city
and mothers who have daughters to marry are
loud in their sympathy and young ladies who
‘paddle their own canoe,’ so to speak, look their
sympathy from behind the face-beautifying
black dotted veils and send him flowers after
the funeral and do everything they can to miti
gate the severity of its symptons. ‘ Does he or
she take it hard,’ is asked after every funeral,
and respect for the mourner is graded accord
ingly. Here and there a cynic will suspect
loud manifestations of grief, but all united in
declaring that Mr. Horton, while avoiding on
the one hand stoicism, had also steered clear of
hysterics, and yet the pallor of his handsome,
ruddy face, the haggard eyes and pained look
across the brows proclaimed sorrow enough.
He believed that she had finally relented when
death struck her down and when he thought of
the happy years that united, they would have
spent together it was grief at his own great loss
that sent the hot tears to his eyes. Ho was mis
taken. If well, she would never have made the
promise to return and feeling the lancet pains
growing worse and worse and mindful of the
doctor's warning, she had staggered to his steps.
S •, when, Camber looked upon her, with her
bright hair all unbound, he thought again of
Ibe gentle ‘Elaine,’ who had died for love of
the base friend of the pearl-souled King Arthur,
knowing not his stain, then memory reverted
to the evening of the Bal Masque when she had
first met the man whose dishonest nature had
caused her death. From the pure white, peace
ful face his eyes wandered to the bowed man in
the corner, overcome with his sense of loss and
disappointment, with genuine pity in his heart.
When the sods were cast upon the coffin, Cam
ber went home and to bed and Yale did not see
him again lor a week. Who ever is rational in eith
er love or grief, is profound in philosophy or
characterized by insensibility which is the re
verse of an honor. Then he drops in as of yore,
graver and sadder; but time is a sure anaes
thetic and in a few months he is himself again.
(TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.)
Sketches of Southern
Literature.
THE PAST ANl> PRESENT.
NO* te*
Southern Writeifc and Authors.
By JUDGE WILLIAM kRCIIER COCKE,
of FlorW .
Author of thf. Constitutional Bistory 0 f the United
States and Common and |ii’i7 Law in the United
States.
How to Organize Book Clubs in villages.
The great want experienced by cultured men
and women in a small town is of books, periodi
cals, etc., which, individually, they are not able
to buy. There are very few circulating libraries
in American towns of a population less than
ten thousand. This want can be obviated in a
measure, by a friendly combination between
certain families or individuals, in which each
contributes a given number of books to a com
mon stock; these books are loaned to the
members in turn. A more formal and much
better way is the formation of a book-club, such
as were common in England before the estab
lishment of Mudie, in which each member pays
at the beginning a certain sum, with which as
many books are purchased as there are members,
each one choosing a book; these pass in regular
rotation from hand to hand, remaining a fort
night with each reader; twenty books may thus
be read for the cost of one. When the books
have passed around the circle, they are sold to
members for the benefit of the club. Fioes for
detention and abuse of books also keep up the
funds. No officer is required in this association
but a treasurer. Another advantage in the plan
is that books can be bought by the quantity at
lower rates than singly. The same rule applies
to subscriptions for magazines, newspapers, etc.
‘Not one man in a thousand marries the girl
he most wants.’— Exchange. Yes, but look at
the lots of girls who wanted us and who didn’t
marry ns. The joy of this thought is only equal
ed by the sorrow of the thought that another
girl who wanted us did marry us.
Don’t expect to be called a good fellow a mo
ment longer than you consent to do just what
other people wish you to do.
•The Great l iellion.’
BY JOHN MIN BOTTS.
There was a stro*g par in th« South oppos
ed to secession; many them seeing them
selves in a decided mino r yielded to an una
voidable necessity, imlas well as political
necessity, and became at ce strong defenders
of the cause ot the Co deraoy. Others re
mained Union men to j last. Among the
writers of the South who posed secession was
John Minor Botts, of Ri< lond, Va.
The Botts family wei rom Maryland, the
father of John Minor, < e first to Hie city of
Richmond, as counsel 1 3urr, and after the
trial of that remarkabiAin, determined to
settle in Riohmond. H<w a cultivated and
eminent lawyer, a mas-o ealtb, and gave his
several sons ample oppoHity for refined and
extensive education. JoMinor was the most
talented, but less given tyndy of any of the
family. He inherited a liable plantation in
HiDes coHnty.
He was, after one itnore decided de
feats, elected to the H« 0 f Delegates from
Hines county. After » g his attention to
politics, he was nominated elected to Con
gress from the Richmomjstrict. He was a
man of great original pov. 0 f m j D( j w hj 0 h de
veloped with rapidity, » devoting himself
to politics, which occuj most of his time
and attention. In Cqngijje was considered
one of the ablest debators’ohn Quincy Ad
ams pronounced him the (t debator he had
ever heard in America, orffigland, but like |
Jn: Giles, of Va., whom Jfcandolph styled,
as a debator, the Walpoi merica, he was in
an academic sense not o. nne duoated, but
without the usual advan 0 f being ‘well
read.’
Botts served several s(, s j n Congress.
He was s bold and ardent t devoted to the
personal and political ad-memt of Henrv
Clay, whom he loved and re d, and whose
tone of character and mi 8 he imitated to
the unlimited and iBsuffer lver h e aringness
of the rough and dogmatfrit 0 f tho great
leader of the whig party. .
Botts was right in being g, f or whiggerv
started in opposition to thtgreat American
Dictator and the first great. er 0 f constitu
tional rights—Andrew Jack R n t with the
accomplishment of a Prot Tariff and the
defeat of the Andrew' Jaqparty in 1840
the whig party had periorjts functions^
and had nothing more to d m d necessaria-
ly to expire—which it did.
Botts was defeated for Co hy James A.
Seddon, an eminent lawyej y er y upright
man. Seddon voluntarily f rom t>iie
life, and Botts was again Da t e( j tile
whig party, but was defeatt* n s. Coskie.
Messrs. Seddon and Coskit demoorats of
the Calhoun Sohooj 1 ..Lu{^.naL»—t i.
tue.r election mostly rfiersonai unpopu
larity of Botts among-iders of his own
party.
Botts was opposed to i>n and met every
issue boldly and honest! was a brave and
honest man, and utterlyipromising in all
of his opinion" and view
‘The Great Rebellion’rk of some force,
the most prominent ftare its attack on
the Democratic party, he responsibility
that attaches to it, as lior of secession:
and vilest assaults on tlsistration of the
Confederate governmenlppareni violenoe
and bad temper ®ersonalities of
the work impair its fad it is to be re
gretted that Botts exhaust of his strength
in mere assault, insteacilosophio discus
sion.
The origin of the booious, and the cir
cumstances attending notion is interest
ing.
in October, 1861 the consul in Rich
mond applied to Charier,(who had been
an agent at the Riohmrket to purchase
tobacoe for the Frenchment which con
stituted his action co-ofinetatesmanship
or history;) in all inforie could furnish
him upon the questionssion and aboli
tion. On this request lade Mr Palmer
applied to Botts. Whi the information
desired was furnished :tter to Palmer,
which forms the basiaork. The letter
was sent to the Frenoh The entire cir
cumstances attending ite very strongly
that the letter was write request of the
Emperor of France, .aid at the time
that a messenger hadat by Louie Na
poleon to the French at Washington,
to procure infermationon to the origin,
progress, and probabltf secession, and
that the French Minislrocured the safe
passage of the messenj from Richmond
back to Washington.
It became rumored thmond that Mr.
Botts was engaged in secret history of
secession and the war.
On the first of Marcle writ of habeas
corpus was suspendedf Congress. On
the next day, Sunday an hour before
daybreak, Botts was aibed, his papers
examined, nothing foi satisfactory to
the object of the search himself commit
ted toprison and keptein solitary con
finement.
A Btrange conversaled between Mr.
Botts and Captain Gisistant provost-
marshall, the officer the arrest had
been made.
Captain Godwyn thi the government
did not get hold of alitts’ papers. The
result of the conversi that Mr. Botts
informed him that hend that he could
not, except on terms fled, wbioh was
(hat Jefferson Davis 8ar before Judge
Halliburton that oitg the paper it
should be published uirer and Exam
iner. Mr. Botts also rat, if it was pub
lished just as it camaand, he would
accompany it with fit or a thousand
dollars to pay the explication. This
remark appeared to iptain Godwyn,
and he asked, ‘What otts?’
‘It is tfie secret hiis rebellion, for
thrty years before it
During Bott’simpihe French min
ister, Count Mercier.hmond and was
anxious to see him hiibited from do
ing so. The Frencbaced a copy of
Bott’s letter to Mr. So hands of the
French minister dint to Richmond,
and it was undoubtes a diplomatic
paper.
This book is full lings. Mr Botts
was offered a seat iifcnate from West
Virginia. While cOrison to be tried
for treason, he was 1, as he states, a
commission of Brigll in the Confed
erate Army.
Mr. Botts would not say whether he would ac
ceptor not until he saw the commission captain,
Alexander, then provost marshall, saying to him,
!n h vfoiT nl L aCCeP m it ’ thftt U woul<1 be delivered
™ f L? h ° Ur \ T bis, Captain Alexander said
he would swear to do. At one period of the con
versation, Mr. Botts said to Captain Alexander,
if he accepted it, ‘Before the sun went down, I
would hang every scoundrel of you, from Jeff.
p p V 288 fiT t0 y0a,, (Grmt RehelUon Appendix,
Butts, with all his violence, high temper and
burning prejudices, was esteemed a truthful
man. He was evidently above the seductive in
fluences and temptations for office-proof against
the cacoethes officio.
The title page of this book says of it: ‘The
political life of the author vindicated.’ This is
an objeotional manifestation of that inordinate
egotism which frequently manifest itself in the
work before us.
On the title page is presented a quotation from
the author which he was in the habit of repeat
ing, and which, notwithstanding its tautology
and redundancy, to say nothing of its extreme
pedantry, with its demogogueish slang, may be . „
?h a0 TT^e5 e c !^l fi Lf^«!. 9ti ?. n t0 , the P e °P' le of I brave whistlers
TnUnrr i l^/ rCat talent ’ extensive intellectual
wl l r n elof l neat and able debater.
tata^?i£SlT i “‘ 1 * re ** <» »
interesting work by the same author.
A Prose Idyl.
L WhlSUerS - A <
Class Tl»e Croaker’s Mission Ernie,I-
fctioiteni.1^ Shadows—Tfie Past
i*t tile Present.
Whistling bojs and crowing hens
Always come to some bad end
&SB2-
the United States, let its territory be ever so
tensive and its population ever so dense.
‘I kpow no North, no South, no East, no West
I only know my country, my whole country,’
and nothing but my country.’ John M. Botts.
Mr. Botts shows historically that for many
years there was a fixed purpose constantly on
the increase in favor of secession; and shows
also that the Lincoln administration was anx
ious to avert secession, but with all of his his
torical research and knowledge, he nowhere
shows that the administration even offered any
just, or fair, or equitable grounds for an ad
justment of the difficulties that superinduced
the civil war.
. probability th9 wisest suggestions tend-
K ng Ar ^ Toi ^ secession, or civil war was made
by Mr. Botts, in proposing the assembling of a
national convention to recognize the independ
ence of each of the States as desired to with
draw from the Union, and make the experi
ment of a separate government. ■ Letters of
fiSotts to attorney-general Bathes, April 19th, 18-
b r~/f *be right of secession had been recost-
nized, Botts thought, no State would secbde,
and n any should make the experiment, that, it
would not take them long to discover their error
and return to the Union. ’
We will notice in connection with one of a
similar character to Bo ts’ Work, ‘The War of the
Rebellion, By ll. S. Foote.'
it is entitled, ‘The War of the Rebellion, or
bcylla and Charybdis,’ consisting of observa
tions upon the canes and consequences of the
iat. civil war in the United States,’ with the
beautiful quotation from Virgil, ‘Et pater An-
c/nses;^ Minimum hcec ille Charybdis. Hos Jlelenus
Scopulos, hcec Saxa horenda cavebat eripites, 0 Soar
pariter qui in subgite remis.
The author of this work was born in Virginia
was a fellow student of the science of law with
the distinguished jurist. Justice Swayne, of the
Supreme Court of the United States, to whom
the work is dedicated. They were licensed by
the same jury, and entered at the same time on
the active career of that noble profession which
brings honor and success to those who fulv
worship Rt its exalted shrine.
Foote settled in Tennessee, removed to
Mississippi, pursued the Drofession of law was
elected Governor of the State, and afterwards
united States Senator, he was defeated for the
Senate, migrated to California, and failing to be
elected to the United States Senate from that
State, settled again in Tennessee, and had the
EHSSpSSS
aiSesl'SSpSsS
brave whistlers and crowfrs^ Tlmpncke ^t 11
pt ihlA be paln ont of tfa e heart. Ev-
times bnt r th V ev° De8 i^™ * harp P ains the ™ at
desnit' b nf ‘i y arft hero fB and heroines, who,
despit of all, whistle and sing and crow keen
ing up at the same time their own courage and
the courage of the world as well. 8
If there is anything in this world that we re
ally, cordially and supremelv hate it is the
tZSbl. f W/th ?“ tbe most con-
temptible business that a rational and immortal
being cun engage in. Thera is a class ofthkvl
denominated sneak thieves, but th el profession
is dignified compared with that of the croaker
The sneak thief steals trash: croaser.
““ 35 rassassssL.
A few pence or dollars may replace it Rnt
abonTrtSg sunshine aufof the°life “SSf
harpy* ta,.? Wh.o before w,» ,he "
grandly astir or the air so fall of promise ? It is
positively glorious to live in these times \11
the years since creation’s morn, with all they
present year,
ood to-day, there is
morn, v
have achieved, are poured into the
ihe world is more full of
more golden fruitage ripening, there are grand
£ to fiorv ')r g tb “ • “ *»r other g .p“ h
insoj’ , Hnrua «ff J is no longer ignored
,s i£° i°?8 er crowded out of his own
creation. Faith never before has“beer> so nobly
manifested, and Christian zeal and heroism has
borne the banner of the Cross, with its attend
ant ble.ss.ngs, to the ends of the earth.
vvhy tne croaker is the blindest kind of fool
for he does not seem to see that bis occupation
is clean gone, and that there is no S
place for him in the earth enger any
closer to the Master. Never before has the ni
vine Spirit been so abundantly poured out The
fcun ot Righteousness has made^e" perceptSe
advance toward the zenith, and the shadows are
growing snorter. Men understand each other
beLer, sympathize with each other more and
wort.'
honor to be elected to the House of R^TenTa- t°he goodTh^tTsln tbfwoH i*? 1 anyt - h ' iD g of a11
fives of the Confederate SfoUo 5 . e> . . is in tne world be ever
/ ” e . 'to uoi vv fne U oiography of Foote, his his- tfiiat form it r~~- *-' '
tory m the Senate of the United States and iti
the Confederate Congress have been well known
for many years past.
The work under consideration is written in a
style classical and beautiful; its reminiscences
of the past are very interesting and are presented
in a most btrikiDg and at times captivating man
ner. The sketches of John Quincy Adams, Cal
houn, Clay, and WeLster are iair, just, and for
cible indeed; the sketch of Webster is a model
of classical beauty and propriety, accurate and
true, and shows the great desoriptive and dis
criminating power of the author.
The very title of the work announces the phil
osophic purposes of the author of the ‘War of the
Rebellion,’ a history of its ‘Causes and Conse
quences,’ This presents in two words the man
ner in whioh the subject should be treated.
The author alludes to what he calls the ‘Irre
pressible Conflict’ Theory; the early colonial
settlement in North America; considers the
character of the people very nearly identical;
cession of the Northwestern Territory, by Vir
ginia and the states in. 1774—ordinance of 1787
—Federal Convention; the administration of
Washington, and the absence of any sectional
party during its continuation. In the election
of John Adams of Massachusetts, and Jefferson
of Virginia the same antisectional spirit pre
vailed.
Treats of Successive administrations of Jef
ferson, Madison and Monroe; the rise of the
Missouri question, and the violent agitation
consequent thereupon; considers the compro
mise wise and salutary. He writes forcibly, and
truly of the great value, and necessity in govern
ment cf compromise as ‘often times grandly
typical of the almost attainable perfection ot
human reasoning.’ This is not only true, but
compromise, as a principle is absolutely necessa
ry in all governments. Foote sustains his
views on this subject by a very judicious
quotation from Calnoun s able work on govern
ment. r
The author’s speculative views of the self
defensive powers of all governments and of the
government of the United States in particular,
are true and axiomatic; but he does not make al
lusion to the great principle of the right of revo
lution as clearly asserted and maintained iL
the Deoleration of Independence, and which the
American people reassert on the 4th day of everv
J uly. ‘ '
The Confederate constitution the author says
was confessedly based upon the absolute
sovereignty of the states, but claims that the
principle was most shamefully abandoned, and
truly illustrates trem the necessary operation
of the Confederate Congress,’ the utter futility
and worthlessness of all the Ultra States-rights
governmental theories. He might with equal
force and truth have made the same remark of
the constitution of the United States
The author has written a very interesting
sketch ot some of the leading political questions
which agitated the National government for
many years proceeding the war. It is written
with more taste and refinement than the work
on the same subject by Botts; it is equally
personal, but while Botts is evasive, corrse, and
unscholarly, Foote is refined and severe in his
satire, and less egotistical. Foote is exceeding
ly severe in many of his personal criticisms.
Davm he ridicules as a modern Cambyses,
which if applicable on account of his great
failures is surely not so in relation to his moral
character. Beojamin, Slidell, Seddon, and the
Confederate administration he abuses severely
and unjustly. J
The author attempts to give reasons for being
a member of the Confederate Congress which
unfortnately are unsatisfactory as the grand
exploit by which he divested himself of his last
Congiessional honors, and his unsuccessful
efforts to obtain peace.
With all of H. S. Foote’s violence, temper
and indiscretion, which is very abundant, we
consider him an honest, truthful and brave
, — - —;te» m
may be manifested. The germ, the
pncciple, the result, is immortal. Every sheaf
shall be garnered. Processes mav change, in
struments may fail, but the end and the alorv
are sure. What we see to-day is but the open
manifestation of what was done ia the past; and
that which we do to-day shall only f> 3 seen in
the future. The coming Summer will be the
revelation of all the days aud nights, the sun
beams and the clouds of the Winter passed,
d ithout the one there would not be the other.
* -e glibiy talk ot death in this world of ours,
but we tail to comprehend what it is. It is not
annihilation; it is not even cessation; it is simp
ly toe fulfillment, the advancement to a greater
degree of perfection of the new. This is the
song and the sermon of the sear leaf as it rattles
away in the cold blast or whirls on the breast of
tne storm. At the bottom of every dry leaf shak
en oft lies the germ of the future, and the winds
rock it, and the chilling frosts keep it back un
til its proper time, and the sunbeams kiss it
and the birds twitter around it, and the chan^l
ing seasons pass over it, until at last, in the full
ness ol its time, it expands, unfolds and blows
out in its perfection.
®° t!ie u S es the generations work and push
on towards the millennial day. The very earth
is garnering up in her caverns and depths treas
ures tor the redeemed yet unborn. The toiling,
unthinking millions are laying rails, and hang
ing w^res, and buildiDg ships for the more
speedy evangelization ot the world through the
practteal annihilation of time and space. Lov
ing hearts and willing hands are rolling away
the obstacles from before the sealed sepulchre,
that the Lord ot Glory and the Giver of Life may
come forth and speak new life to the dead. Ev
en the biooJy hand of war is preparing a high
way tor the Prince of Peace to travel on. And
fools, too, w-hilo they vainly think they hinder,
are really helping on, for He restrains their
wrath ana turns it into praise. The coming of
tho Kingdom and the coming of the lung is near
er to-day than ever before. So the croaker is
more a fool than ever. The brave whistler’s
work is not without its reward; for through his
cheery notes the world has kept heart and push
ed on, tiff to-day science and philosophy and
learning, every element in nature and every in
strument of intelligence, is harnessed to the
chariot of salvation.
O. glorious day! when, work and warfare
being ended, and hope fulfilled, heaven shall
come down to earth and earth shall roach heav
en, and its glory shall be alike on the mountain
top and in the vale. h.
How to Be a Gentleman-
Money will buy a great many things, but
it will not buy what makes a gentleman. If you
have money you can go to a store and buy
clothes. Lut hat, coat, pants and boots do not
make a gentleman. They make a fop, and
sometimes come near making a fool.
Money will buy dogs and horses, but how many
horses and dogs do you think it will take to
make a gentleman ? Let, no boy, therefore,
think he is to b§ made a gentleman by the
clothes he wears, the horses he rides, the stick
he carries, the dog that trots after him, the
hons9 he lives in or the money he spends.
Not one of those things do it—and yet every
boy may be a gentleman. But how ? By being
true, manly, and honorable; by keeping himself
neat and respectable; by being civil and courte
ous; by respecting himself and others; by doing
the best he knows how. And finally, and above
all by fearing God and keeping his command
ments.
A young Tennessee clergyman seems to have
compressed the whole body of his sermon on
‘Deceit’ in the following: ‘Oh, my brethren,
the snowiest shirt-front may conceal an aching r
bosom, and the stillest of all rounders encircle
a throat that has mauy a bitter pill to swallow’