Newspaper Page Text
SATURDAY, OCT. 3.
The Telegraph Cable.
It is Datura) that the public should feel restire
about the long delay .«d unsatisfactory reports
which hare resulted and been pobhshed since the
feeing of the Atlantic cable. The heart of the
world seemed gladdened at the successful laying
of the cable, and science, commerce and ciriliza
tion were in ecstacics. But 'the hopeful realua
tion of prompt communication has been delayed
antil with most persons, the heart seems sad, and
Ibart are entertained that “ it is all a dream at the
heat.”
It may be that we are more hopeful than others
better informed in such matters, but we have such
an abiding confidence in the eventual successful
working of the present cable, that we will not give
np hope, until our judgment is satisfied that there
is some permanent and irremediable defect in the
cable. We have seen nothing yet to satisfy us that
the enterprise is a failure.
When we consider the vastness, and at the same
time, nervous-like delicacy of the undertaking—
the many appurtenances which may be necesaary
to derelope and complete the gigantic work—we
should he content to wait, and patiently and for
bearingly wait, until tile cultivated minds perfect
or exhaust their skill and operations, and the cap
ital employed, complete their enterprise or exhaust
tbeir means. Then, when science and genius,
aided by jierseverancc and capital, pronounce the
work a failure, we shall be prepared to say that the
cable ia a failure—but never, never before.
We append the latest and most reliable news we
have received :
A CARD.
Nrw Yuan, Friday evening, Sept. 21.
To the AttoetiUed Prut:
Accompanying this, 1 beg to hand you copies of
recent communications from the honorary direc
tors of the Atlantic Telegraph Company and my
self, lo Mr. De flsnty, the chief electrician at tfie
Trinity Bay oltlce. Mr. l)c Santy’s answers will
be furnished for publication without unnecessary
delay.
I deem it proper to stale as the result of mv in
quiries concerning the dispatch of Thursday from
Trinity Bay, announcing tbu resumption of perfect
signals through the cable from Valencia, that the
announcement was made through a dispatch from
the Superintendent of the land Tines in Newfound
land to the agent nfthe Associated Press, and was
nDqoestionably reported in good faith but as the
infurmatinu has not yet been confirmed by Mr. lie
Santy, who alone has full knowledge of alt the
facta', I regard the statement as possibly prema
ture.
It Is conjectured that the shore end of the cable
at Valencia must he taken up for a distance of
several miles, which, by reason of bad weather or
other unavoidable difficulties, may occupy three
or four weeks. The depth of water within two
hundred miles of the Irish Coast ranges from
about fitly to four hundred fathoms, und it is not
doubted that even two hundred and fifty miles of
the cable could bo raised if deemed necessary.
Respectfully, Ac., Cvars W. Firlo
Nkw Yuan, Kept. 21—10 A. M.
C. V. Ik Santy, Trinity Bay:
Great dissatisfaction exists in this country with
the reserve maintained at Trinity Bay in contrast
with the frank coiumumcatiuns from Valencia to
the British public, (lire us daily information of
the state of the telegraph under your charge.
Pktku COOI'KU,
Cyans W. Kiki.ii,
Wilson O. Hunt,
E. M. AitciiiiiAi.n,
Watts Hhkuman.
(Taken to tho olUcea of tho other Honorary
Directors in New York; but they could not be seen
lienee the absence of their signatures. (
Naw Yomc, Sept. 24.—12 M.
l'n lk Sinty, 7V;»i ty Bn;/, .V. f".:
Dispatches from you and from Mackay are con
tradictory; now please give me explicit answers to
tho following enquiries:
lot. Are you now, or have von been within three
dayo receiving distinct signals from Valencia?
2nd. Can you send a message, long or short, to
the Direetors at Ismdon ?
Krd. If you can answer no to the above, please
tell inn if the electrical manifestations hare varied
easenttally since the Istef September?
Cyhiis W. Fikld.
Tbinitv Bat, N. F., Sept. 24, ISSS.
V. W. FitU, AVw York:
We have received nothing intelligible from Va
lencia since the Ist of September, excepting feel
ing a few signals yesterday. 1 cannot send any
thing to Valencia, There lias been very little va
riation in the electrical tliautfestalions.
l)a Santt.
It mar be pertinent to state some of the reasons
which hare probably contributed to dela.y the auc
reaa of tliia work. The New York IhraUl of tile
17th mat., furuiahea aome facta, which tuny ena
ble our readera to come to the proper concluatoua.
When the Atlantic Telegraph Company won or
ganised, l)r. Wildoian Whitahouaa was appointed
chief eieetrician, at a aularv of one thousand
pounda sterling per annum. It waa subsequently
agreed that in care the cable ahouldbeaucceaafully
worked and with Ilia inatruinenta, he waa to re
ceive ten thouaand pound* sterling a year. Dr.
Whitehouae waa enabled to impress the directora
for a long time with the idea of hia ability to aend
messages through the whole cable at the rate of
lour worda a minute. Double finally aroae on the
subject, and nouiaroua experiment! by the doctor,
in tile preaence of the directors, failed to aucb a
degree aa to ahako their faith entirely in hia lu
alrumenta.
Dr. Ttiompaon, a acientitic gentleman of high
repuUttion in Ureal llntain, followed Dr. While
houae. and Ilia liiatruincnia alao failed. Professor
Hughes, the American, then essayed, and although
hia instruments had never been tried on so great u
length of wire, and he had no means of adjusting
them, he succeeded in sending messages through
at the rate of three words a minute, which was
more than had ever been attained.
Dra. Wbilebouse and Thompson now insisted on
their being allowed (o experiment on the cable af
ter it was laid, which was dually accorded them.
Dr. Whitehoase was granted the use of the cable
from the Mb of August, tile day it was landed, to
the Ist of September, lie transmitted the I'reai
dent’a and Queen's message* and the news of the
Chiua treaty. Dr. Thompson then had the use of
the cable from the Ist to the l.Mh of September,
and foiled completely. Dr. Wbitebouse's experi
ments, be it added, coat the company one hundred
and scvrniy-sii thousand dollars.
I*n>f. Hughes then was to bare commenced ex
periments on the cable on the liith inst. A steamer
tell Kugland on the Sth for Trinity Hay, with ouc
of his operators, an instrument, and all other
necessary apparatus. This steamer had not reached
her destination on the tjth. Prof. Hughes is u> re
ceive a certain amount, contingent on ins success
in sending words a hundred per cent, faster thau
Dr. Whitehouae, whose last message was de
spatched at the rate of four letters a minute. In
propolion as he arods messages still faster thau
this, he is to receive a still larger compensation.
Should he fail. Prof. Karraday will try what he
can do. Hut we have no idea' that Hughes will
fail.
We are pleaaed, in conclusion, to state, that
Prof. Hrotiss' instrument and assistant arrived at
St. Johns on yesterday, tn ronU to Trinity. Iu a
short time we hope to hear something favorable
about tbe cable.
English Colton Mitniil.icttiicrs.
Tbe London correspondent of the Liverpool
Jfercery, writing on the afternoon of the ;4th of
September, say*: “The cotton manufacture in
Ungland is stated, on good authority, to be in a
better state than it bus been, at any time, aince
the year On some of the recent shipments
of twist, vhe profit is said to be two pence per
pound."
Tbe reports from the Liverpool £rc/..juye, on the
afternoon of the 14th of September, were favorable
to tbe cotton trade. The report say* : *< The Man
chester market has again advanced to-day as much
as one-fourth to a half pence iu yarns, aud three
iwuee per piece in cloth ; aud even at these prices,
spinners are not very wilting to enter into large
contracts—the very prospect of a further rise thus
tending to check the extent of business, which,
however, continues very extensive, particularly
for India and China.’’
NT The annual grand communication of the
irmnd Lodge of Georgia, will take place at Macon
the *6th of October.
The Mcnmship Florida.
The New York Journal of Comment of Tuesday
last, says; “ The steamship Florida left New York
on Tuesday, the 21st inst., for Savannah. On
Wednesday afternoon, when about forty miles
North of Hatteras, she met with an accident to
her machinery, which disabled her. On Thursday
morning she fell in with the brig Mary E. Milliken,
from Philadelphia for Cardenas, to which vessel a
part of the passengers were transferred, in the
steamer's boats, with the understanding that they
were to be landed at Tybee next day. While re
turning under canvass, she wan met by the steam
er Augusta, hence for Savannah, who took her in
tow, and arrived here lata on Sunday
" The steamship Star of the South arrived here
yesterday with the fifty-three passenge* that had
gone on board the brig Mary E. Milliken. The
steamer Augusta left in the afternoon with all the
Florida’s passengers, including those brought by
the Star of the South.”
Judge J. B. Bishop and family, who were on
beard the Florida at the time of the accident,
reached their residence in this city on yesterday
afternoon. They came through by land from New
ork. The Judge states that the sea was very
rough at the time of the accident, and the only a|i
prehension on board the Florida was, that she
might drift on to Cape Hatteras. By the aid of
rockets and cannon they attracted the attention of
the Augusta, and the noble commander of that
vessel soon came alongside and proffered every
assistance in his power to extend. Large hawsers
were attached to the Florida, aDd the Augusta
towed her safely to New York on Sunday night
last.
In the afternoon of Monday, the passengers
who had sought safety on the Mary E. Milliken
were safely conveyed to New York in the Star of
the South.
We understand that nearly all the passengers
immediately registered their mimes in the steam
ship Augusta for Savannah.
,-vY~ We find in the Boston Boat of the 21st inst.,
the proceedings of a meeting of the Democracy of
Bunker Hill, held in Charlestown square, on Mon
day evening, the 20th inst. The meeting, which
was the first rally of the Democracy, after the
nomination of their candidates for State offices,
was a large and enthusiastic one, and wils address
ed by a number of distinguished gentlemen,
among whom were Euwamii Riiiolk, the presiding
officer, Hon. Erasmus D. llkauii, the Democratic
nomlneo for Governor, Jambs Gariiskh, Esq., of
Georgia, Dr. Lamdicrt, of New York, Dr. Luring,
I)r. Hall, und lion. G. IV. Wakhxn, of Massa
chusetts. „ 1
We subjoin that porfion of the Poet'* report of
the proceedings of this meeting, which embraces
the introduction of our fellow-citizen Mr. Gakdnkr. i
und the few hurried remarks made by him—which !
were received with applause, and other manifesta
tions of the approval of the audience, although,
us the reader will see, they are such as arc rarely
heard uuder the shadow of tiie mouumeut ou Bun
ker Hill:
The President then introduced Mr. Jas. Gard
ner, of Georgia, and to that gentleman u welcome
exceedingly cordial and hearty was extended.
The President—You will now, fellow Democrats,
give vour attention to one who comes from a sis
ter State -that .State us dear to us as our own
State of Massachusetts. A man will now address
you, who, although he conies from a distant part
of the country, yut known no North, no South,
no East, no West —nothing but his country—and
who is a firm champion aud adherent of the Con
stitution. I hare tiie honor to introduce Mr. Jas.
Uardner, of Georgia. (Loud cheering.)
ADDRESS OF MR. JAMES GARDNER.
Fellow Pemocrata: Under the confederated sys
tem of government under which so many Stales
and communities live in happiness und prosperity,
there are a few great principles recognised which
ure dear to the hearts of Democrat* throughout
the broad exteut of this IJmon. Among those
principles are religion* freedom of opinion and
worship, equality of civil rights as American citi
zens, the sanctity of private property and the sa
cred abnegation of all interference in the domes
tic aflairs of the separate States- allowing each
State aud Territory to make her own laws, and to
attend to and regulate her ufluirs iu her own way.
Umlur this ayaiem of the great uulional Democra
tic party there exists through these principles a
common bond of brotherly sympathy and union,
which will cause the citizens of Massachusetts to
find a warm and heal tv welcome in the sunny
plains of the South, and make the citizen of the
South feel at home though lie stuuds among the
snows of a northern climate. (Loud cheering.)
Under these principles the people of New England
and the people of your own Commonwealth have
thriven in prosperity: their coriltnerce whitens
the ocean, aud ine products of their looms and of
ihe workshopsoflheir mechanics challengeadnura
tion throughout the civilised world. The people
of the South are glad to see the prosperity of your
people while you pursue your legitimate right*
under the laws which you create for yourselves.
Under these circumstances they are happy to see
you prosper. It is only when you trespass upon
them—it is only when you seek* to encroach upon
rights not your own, thut we are disposed to feel
towards you that j aloosy and hostility, that spirit
of coutlict which inspired your fathers amt our
fathers in that great contest which resulted in the
Declarationot Independence ami the establishment
•»f that Constitution under whieh we live. In
common with you the South feels a just pride in
yonder magnificent monument which has been
•reeled by the liberality of your own people; and
she remembers that iu those early da> s southern
umi northern men fought alike for common prin
ciples.
It was only last Saturday, while riding aiotiml
the magnificent suburb* ol your city, that I passed
the Old Elm under which George Washington ex
hibited his commission *s coniuiander-iu-chief ot
the American forces. He was a southern man and
a slaveholder, yet he drew Ins sword for principles
as dear to the South as to the North, feeling that
there were principles common to n* all while we
ware struggling tor the rights, not of free negroes,
but of white man, aud to establish a government
for the Anglo Saxon race (Tremendous cheer
ing.) Pardon me, fellow-eitiieus, for alluding to
another fact—for ulluding to the gallant ancestry
which fought those bsttles. 1 have no misgiving
that in recalling ihe tact that slaveholders helped
to tight the battle of Hunker Hill the Democrats of
Bostoo will have leas veneration for their memory.
It was only this afternoon that I visited your Mu
seum, and there I saw framed upon the wall u bill
of sale of a negro, from one citizen of Massa
chusetts, to another citizen of Massachusetts.
It was in the year 1771, and only four years before
the great battle of Buuker Hill. Afterwards, fellow
citizens, your ancestry saw tit to get rid of that in
stitution; they did ao’iu their own wisdom, iti their
own g*H>d time, and in their own way, without in
humanity to the slave and without' detriment to
their own pockets; they did so without dictation
from abroad. They did so of their own free will
aud accord; they d'ld so because they believed it
was for their interest to do so. And now the
Stales which recognise the same institution claim
the privilege of doing the same thing, when and
how they please; and only if it shall please them
so to do. W haterer we do, we shall scorn all dicta
tion from any source or anv quarter upon that sub
ject. .Cheers.!
Fellow citizens, when that great battle for con
stitutional liberty was fought in this country so»
the Anglo-Saxon race ; when the banner then un
furled was unfurled over thirteen colonies, twelve,
if not thirteen, of those colonies recognised the in
stitutiou of slavery. Gradually, however, that Insti
tution receded to that portion qf the country where
it now lives; but it did not carry blight and deso
latiou in its train. Ou the contrary, communities,
moral and religious, exist and prosper where that
institution flourishes. The same gospel, the same
Christian religion, the same principles of morality,
the same love of the principles of civil and religi
ous liberty, as well as the freedom of the ballot
box aud the purity of the judicial ermine which
exist among you, now exist aud are cherished
there.
The objection to Democracy bv the Black Re
publican party is that we adhere to the great
charter of American liberty and the great charter
of ihe constitution, which provides that the rights
ot the several States shall be strictly construed and
preserved. National Democracy teaches
this doctrine, and each member of the party
cherishes it in his heart. I maintain that he
who cherishes the warmest love for the reserved
rights of the States aud the people, and
stands firmest and truest to the Constitution
of tb« United States, is the best friend to his
country. (Loud cheers.) That Constitu
tion recognises no private institution in any State
or Territory that is disgraceful or discreditable
either to the American people of the Anglo-Saxon
race, or which, on thecontrary, is insulting to our
forefathers and the blood which was shed in the
revolution, and in honor ot which vour Hunker
Hill monument is erected. (Loud applause.) I
believe that while the Democratic p»rtv holds
together in its integrity to principles, while true
faith Is promulgated in its platforms issued at Balti
more and Cincinnati, that this Republic is safe, and
that her people will continue to prosper and be
happy—and that the American Republic will move
on in the great advancing march to civilization,
carrying in its train morality, Christianity and all
true progress that dignifies and ennobles hu
man nature. But the moment those great princi
ples are lost sight of, and the flag of national
Democracy is torn down, aod trampled under foot
by the Black Republican party —when the Consti
tution crumbles under their feet, the Union be
comes worse than a heap of sand, scattered to the
four winds, and those sacreu rights for which our
fathers banded together are forsaken. (Tremen
dous applause). Hut, fellow citizens, 1 believe the
worst of this great sectional contest is past and
gone. The issues which we met in 1851 have been
one after another closed and settled. Kven
“bleeding Kansas” has ceased to bleed. Her wounds
are healed, and it is not for a southern band to tear
them open. Fanatics and demagogues at the
North may endeavor to stir up baa blood and
again fan the fires of fanaticism; and lead thegood
sense of the people of Massachusetts and New En
gland from their legitimate porsuits—from their
commerce, their manufactures, and their me
chanic arts, to plunge again in the strifes of dema
gogues and rekindle the tires of fraternal hate.
But they will find no more material and fuel to
feed their unnatural fires. The South remains
quiet and peaceable, and is capable of taking care
of herself, yet bolding to that maxim declar
ed by the great Jackson, and which I find in
scribed under his portrait in your beautiful City
llall—“They will ask for nothing bqj what is
right, and they will submit to nothing that is
wrong.” (Great cheering). If, fellow-citizens,
you will respect that principle on their part, the
national Democratic party is sure to achieve a glo
rious triumph in the land consecrated by the blood
of Concord, Lexington and Bunker Hilf. The na
tional Democratic party will yet triumph in this
good old State, for the people of the South are un
willing to believe that they are severed forever in
sympathy from the people of Massachusetts.
(Cheers.) When Igo home I shall tell them that
I saw too much good Democratic hospitality in
Massachusetts to permit such a result, for good
Democratic seed is sown upon Massachusetts soil;
and although it is upon stony gr.mud, yet I hope
to see it grow up and rise and flourish like a green
bay tree. (Applause.)
f hope, fellow citizens, when you look abroad
and see all that has been achieved by the national
Democratic part v for the peace, quiet and prosperity
of our country, when you see »t, as you now no, re
posing in peace and prosperity in its every depart
ment, when you see the nag of our country respect
ed on every sea and in every court throughout
Europe, that you will find some more congenial
employment for your Black Republican leaders
than placing them in the State and national halls
of legislation, there to slis-xiiijdrife and throw in
sults in the teeth of southern nretTiThn. (Applause.)
I hope, fellow citizens, the time wi>J soon come
when the people of Massachusetts will send such
gentlemen to some more congenial employment—
which will be as missionaries to the people in the
continent of Africa. (Loud and long continued
cheering.)
The Navannull Steamers.
The Baltimore A tneriean of Sept. 28th says: “The
steamer City of Norfolk, Capt. Parker, will leave
here this morniug for Savanuah, with a full
freight of assorted merchandise, seven cabin and
ten steerage passengers. This line is becoming
deservedly popular with the traveling community,
whilst the freights are full and show an increasing
trade with the port of Savannah.”
Hu mini; of the Steamship Austria.
We find in our exchanges some additional par
ticulars of the frightful catastrophe to the steam
ship Austria:
A passenger reports that u little after 2 o’clock
on the afternoou of the 13th, a dense volume of
smoke burst from the after entrance to the steerage.
The speed of the steamer was instantly slackened
oue-lialf, at which speed she continued until Iter
muguzine exploded, when the engineers, it is sup
posed, were instuntly siillbcated.
The fire next burnt through the lightsumidsbips
traveling aft with fearful rapidity. A boat was let
down on the port side, but it was instantly crush
ed. Another boat on the starboard side was
swamped from the numbers rushing into it. All
the first cabin passengers were on the poop ex
cepting a few gentlemen who must have necir
smothered in the smoking room.
Many of the second cabin pusser.gers were also
on the poop, but a number were shut in the cabin
by the tire. Some were pulled up through the*
ventilators, but the greater number perished in
the flames.
Tin* last woman that was drawn up said six were
already suffocated. Several men and women on
the poop deck jumped into the seu by twos uud
threes.
Some women were already wrapt in flames.
Others hesitated to jump till cfiiren at the last mo
ment by the advance of the flames! In halt an
hour not a single soul was left on the poop.
. The French bark Maurice, Captain Ernest Rc
nuud, came alongside at five o’clock and rescued
forty passengers, who were takeu chiefly from the
bowsprit, but some were found struggling in the
water. At eight o’clock one a»f the metalic boats
came up with twenty two persons, including the
tirst and third otficers. Subsequently four men
were picked up floating on a piece of a broken
boat.
flTke second officer mis afterwards rescued from
the water, lioth lie and the third officer were se
verely burnt.
Many ot the pus»eng>rs are frightfully burnt.
Six women only are saved, three of whom are
shoekiuglv burnt.
A Norwegian bark went alongside the steamer
uext morning and sent a boat. She may have pick
ed up a lew persons.
The bark Maurice had no communication with
her. Stic proceeded with the Austria’s passengers
to Kaval.
A passenger says that when the captain of the
Austria heard of the Are he rushed on deck ex
claiming, “ We are all lost—letdown the bouts!”
which were immediately swamped The raptain
fell into the seu, and was soon left far behind.
The fire arose from culpable negligence while
fumigating the steerage with burning tar, under
the supervision of the fourth officer.
The only British subject among the rescued is
Mr. Brew,"an officer iu the British civil service, on
his wav to Columbia.
The 'following is the list of savedi L. Ruhn, first
officer; B. llertmen. Second officer; 8. Ceruett,
third officer; C. Mehaelts, boatswain’s mate; C.
I’iate, quartermaster; X. Surgenien. sailor; H.
Richter, boy; S. Friebold, fireman; Edward Aim
dolph, steward; C. Poll, engineer’s assistant.
Passengers—Marta Friedrich, from Trag; Ro
salia St. Zig, from Lobentz; Betty Ergen, Lim
berg; Cathariue Ttnskel, of New York; 11. Roren
datnou, of Scharbeck; Ttilia Reaches, of Bremen,
Statti. Slesmer, of New York; Charles Teas, of Ni
caragua; Theodore Isfield, of X. York; Ilurr
tield, of Dresden; I), t'ohn. F. Reinbaumer, of
Kohl; Jacob Kill, of Buieof; Franz Fitz, of Mainz;
Emil Tasz, of Enger; Docti r Sheck, of Koln: Win.
Becker, T. Xepper, and Ellen Velle, of New York;
0. Senik, of Chicago; Leopold Thillier, of Pools
lonit*; <5. I.iiklmunn, ot Cincinnati; T. Hohentoe
Rubins Xildiness. F. P. Retke, I.enzen G. Yiller
son, of Cappeln; Frtdriek Stabner, of Zariukon:
Ferdinand Stabner, of Zarinkon; 11. Osbar, of
Uremerbeek; C. Becker, of llloniberg; A. Sar, of
Cappeln; N. Sicks, H. Wendell, C. Bucholz, F.
Rendsbnrg. S. Hess, of Holstein: H. Hass, of Ber
lin, Peter Wagner, of Worms; Wills. Winslow, of
Worms; Levy Book, ot’Tdorf; S. Pollack, of Rutzdn;
Philip Muller, of Auran; Enis. Witte, of Wt
din; ltrmstirl, of Mannheim; E. Wansch
mann, of Liggett; Lyon Wolf k, of X. A ork; Fried.
Vaguer, ofCassel; James Smith, and Mur
ray. of Alexandria, Ya.
The following persons were transferred to the
Loin*: Charles Brew, of England; Jean Poiikesn
ska, of New York: Phillip Berry, of Hackensack;
H. Banders and C. Hoggnist, of Sweden :C. ' T.
Kesin, of Richmond, Ya.; Henry Augustus Smith,
of Chelsea, Mass.; John It. Cox. of Boston ; Allred
Vezin, of Philadelphia ; Theodore S. Glanbeuskler,
of New York ; Thomson, of California.
Captain Waters, of the steamer l*rtnee Albert,
which arrived here yesterday, tendered to those of
the rescued passengers at Halifax, a free passage
to New York. Ten of them accepted the invita
tion. The steamer sailed for Xew York at live
o’clock P. M. on Sunday. •
t-i? - Raso vl W. McQtvuci, Esq., was on the
25th inst. elected Mayor of Nashville, Tenn.
(COMMUNICATED.)
Education in Georgtc.
Hr. Klitor: I think I have shown what is the
immediate want of commoD school education, and
bow it is to be supplied. But is it the only want
of education that the children of the poor shall
have its rudiments sent to them? And is there
no want which the adult youth of Georgia, poor
aod rich, need to be supplied? From one hun
dred and fifty to two hundred young men leave the
State every year, to receive instructions in foreign
Universities. This also is a great sin ; and by the
tain of the State it i» nvide a crime.
The colleges in Georgia are most useful institu
tions. They have done, and are doing, a vast
amount of good. They have sent forth a large
number of men, who have become illustrious in
many departments of industry. This fact has
prevented many persons, who are the ardent
friends of education, from desiring any-ameliora
tion of our educational system. A system, they
argue, which has educated so many illustrious
men, does not need to be mended. They do not
consider bow few are these departments "to which
the colleges have contributed, or can contribute
really able representatives ; and that the learning
necessary for success io any of these departments
is not only not contemplated to be obtained by
collegiate instruction, hut that it is, from the very
organization of the college system, impossible to
be so obtained The founders of Franklin College,
wise men that they were, looked forward to have
that learning supplied by other means.
The College system lias, and ever has had but
one object; and that is the development of the
minds of young men, so as to fit them for the ac
quisition ot the learning of whatever profession
they might pursue. It is a great mistake to sup
pose that it was designed to impart any great
amount of positive knowledge. It selects a few
text books suited to the capacities of boys from
fourteen to eighteen years old; commencing with
the simple studies, and gradually increasing the
difficulties of learning as the course udvances, re
quiring a complete mastery of all as they advance
in the course; and then gives them the lowest de
f;ree of scholarship—that of Bachelor of Arts;
caving them, if they should choose to do so, to go
to a University whereverjtheyr may find one, to en
gage in the pursuits of positive knowledge; or to
enter those professions iu which any great amount
of positive other than professional knowledge is
not considered as essential to success. It would
not require much consideiation to be assured that
it would be to expect that any sys
tem of education couldjof a boy of fourteen years,
make, iu four years’ tune, a man of learning. It
never lias been, and never will be done.
Such being the object of the College system, it
requires and admits no more studies than can be
thoroughly learned during the course—one of the
greatest incentives to youthful ambitioD being the
continual consciousness of a regular succession of
Scrfect masteries of the difficulties in its way.
tence it is wrong to adopt in the college course
any more studies than that course will allow to be
fully finished. And yet so important have many
branches of learning become, which, twenty years
ago, were not taught in the colleges, that they
have apparently unavoidably been incorporated
into the college curriculum. " In some of these, a
portion of positive knowledge has become to be
absolutely essential even to a private gentleman
who is used to read newspapers and literary peri
odicals for bis entertainment. But the result of
this crowding the curriculum with no increase of
the length of the course, must be to diminish the
success with which the colleges are wont to effect,
what, it must be remembered, is the only object of
their institution. They ought not, in their rival
ries, to forget that object. It is a great one of it
self, one which they, aud none but they, can ac
complish ; and noble and praiseworthy as are
their aims for the itnpartation of positive knowl
edge, such is not th»ir mission.
If those who think that our present facilities for
higher instruction are sufficient, will consider the
kind of eminence which they buastfand an honest
boast it is) has been reached by so many of the
Alumni of our Colleges, they will perceive that it
has been in certain specified: spheres of action : in
medicine, at the bar, and in the pulpit—not else
where. Georgia has indeed reared some great
physicians, some greut lawyers, and some great
preachers. But are physicians, lawyers, and
preachers, the only people' whom she is willing to
see rise to the eminence which is to illustrate what
she is able to do for the weul of her children ? Are
medicine, law and theology the only spheres with
in which a man may seek tu raise his name uud
benefit mankind? Arc the sufferings, the dis
putes, aud the rices of humanity the only themes
which may engage the studies of men of so great
varieties of genius? Arc mechanics, history,
science, art, literature, unworthy spheres where
in u generous ambition may not enter and make
great and useful careers ? These are proscribed
and forbidden spheres in no civilised country ex
cept the South.
But how have our physicians, lawyers and
preachers, become so eminent? Audi sav noth
ing of oar statesmen, as they have all, without ex
ception, been lawyers. I answer, by having been
taken, after tlieir minds had been developed, by
the mental training of the college, either to Uni- ,
veraities out of the State, or to the offices of learned ,
men 111 tlie»o several l)li>fes«liina | w-Ivo-p -
been instructed in the learning which it was ne
cessary for them to possess. In every other pro- ,
fossion which requires any considerable amount (
of positive knowledge in its practitioner, our youth
have had no alternative but to go away front home ,
in search of it. Now, unless it be so that these
tlire- 1 professions are (lie only ones useful to be ]
studied and practiced, equal facilities with those ,
which they afford should be given for the learn- .
ing of every other which is useful. Just as we had, '
twenty years ago, to import our schoolmasters, so
now we have to import our engineers and engines,
our steamboat captains, our architects and mechani
cians, and all the literature which weever got; and
not because our youth have not the genius and the
ambition to become and produce these things, hut
bee mse there is no wav devised by the State to
teach them how Xo human intellect can calcu
late what Georgia has suffered to be lost of what
genius and ambition, properly encouraged, would
have added to her glory. Xo human foresight
can ascertain what that glory w ill gain, if she
will but afford the facilities which genius and am
bition need to direct their powers and poiut their
uspirations. John Woolbuigiit.
The Two Homes.
Two men, on their way home, met at a street
crossing, and walked on together. They were
neighbors and friends.
"Tilts has been a very hard day,” said Mr. Free
man, in a gloomy voice. And as they walked
homeward they discouraged each other and made
darker the clouds that obscured their whole hori
zon.
“Good evening,” was at last said hurriedly, and
the two men passed into their homes.
Mr. Walcott entered the room where his wife
and children were gathered, and without speaking
lo any one, seated himself in a chair, and leaning
his head back, closed his eyes. His countenauce
wore a sad, weary, exhausted look. He had beeu
seated thus only a few minutes when his wife said
in a fretful voice;
“More trouble again.”
"What is the matter now?” asked Mr. Walcott,
almost starting.
"John has been sent home from school.”
"What?” Mr. Walcott partly rose from his
chair.
"He has been suspended for bad conduct.”
“Oh, dear!” groaned Mr. Walcot; “where is
he?"
“Up in his room ; 1 sent him there as soon as he
came home. You’ll have to do something with
him. He’ll be ruined ts he goes on this way. I’m
out of all heart with him.”
Mr. Walcott,excited as much by the manner in
which his wife conveyed unpleasant information
as by the information itself, started up, under the
blind impulse of the moment, and, going to the
room where John had been scut on coming home,
punished the boy severely, and this without listen
ing to the explanation which the poor child tried
to make him hear.
" Father," said the boy, with forced calmness,
after the cruel stripes had ceased, “ I was not to
blame ; aud if you will go with me to the teacher,
1 can prove myself innocent.”
Mr. Walcott had never known his son to tell an
untruth, uud the words fell with u rebuke upon
| his heart.
; "Very well —we will see about that,” he an
i swered, with forced sternness; and leaving the
room, he weut down stairs, feeling much more un-
I 1 comfortable than when he weut up. Again he
seated himself in his large chair, and again leaned
back bis weary head, and closed his heavy cre-
I ltd*. Sadder was his face thau before. As he sat
thus his eldest daughter, iu her sixteenth year, came
in and stood by him. She held a paper in her
!hand —
| " Father’"—he opened his eyes.
1" Here's my quarter's billcan’t I have the
tnonev to take to school with me in the morn
ing ?’
“ I am afraid not,” answered Mr. Walcott, half
n despair.
“Nearly all the girls will bring in their money
to-morrow, and it mortifies me to be behind the
others.” The daughter spoke fretfully. Air. Wal
cott waived her aside with his hand, and she went
off muttering and pontiDg.
“It is mortifying,” said Mrs. Walcott, a little
sharply; “and I don’t wonder that Helen feels an
noyed about it. The bill has to be paid, and I
don’t see why it may not be done as well at first as
last.”
To this Mr. Walcott made no answer. The
words but added another pressure to the heavy
burden under which he was already staggering.
After a silence of some moments, 'Mrs. Walcott
said:
“The coals are all gone.”
“Impossible!” Mr. Walcott raised his head
and looked incredulous. " I laid in sixteen tons.”
“I can’t help it. if there were sixty tons instead
of sixteen, they are all gone. The girls bad hard
work to-day to scrape enough to keep the fire in.”
"There has been a shameful waste somewhere,”
said Mr. Walcott, with strong emphasis, starling
up and moving about the room in a very disturbed
manner.
“So you always say, when anything runs out,”
answered Mrs. Walcott rather tartly. “The barrel
of flour is gone, but I suppose you have done your
part, with the rest, in using it up.”
Mr. Walcott returned to his chair, and again
seating himself, leaned back his head and closed
his eyes as at first. How sad, and weary, and
hopeless he felt! The burdens of the day had
seemed almost too heavy for him; but he had
borne up bravely. To gather strength for a re
newed struggle with adverse circumstances he had
come home. Alas! that the process of exhaustion
should still go on—that where only strength could
be looked for on earth, no strength was given.
When the tea-bell rang, Mr. Walcott made no
movement to obey the summons.
“Come to supper,” said his wife, coldly.
But he did not stir.
“Are you coming to supper?” she called to him,
as she was leaving the room.
“I don’t wish fir anything this evening. My
head aches very much,” he answered.
“In the dumps again !” muttered Mrs. Walcott
to herself. “It’s as much as one’s life is worth to
ask for money, or to say anything is wanted."
And she kept on her way to the dining room.
When she returned, her husband was still sitting
where she had left him.
“Shall I bring you a cup of tea?” she asked.
“X T o ; I don’t wish for anything.”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Walcott? What do
you look so troubled about, as if you hadn’t a friend
in the world? What have I done to you?”
There was no answer for there was not a shade
of real sympathy in the voice that made thequenes,
but rather of querulous dissatisfaction. A few
moments Airs. Walcott stood behind her husband,
but as Jhe did not seem to be inclined to answer
her questions, she turned away from him, and re
sumed the employment which had been interrupted
by the ringing of the tea-bell.
The whole evening passed off without the oc
currence of a single incident that gave a healthful
pulsation to the sick heart of Mr. Walcott. Xo
thoughtful kindness was manifested by any mem
ber of the family; but, on the contrary, a narrow
regard for self, and looking to him only that he
might supply the means of self-gratification.
No wonder, from the pressure which was on
him, that Mr. Walcott felt utterly discouraged.
He retired early, and sought to find that relief
from mental disquietude in sleep which he had
vainly hoped for in the bosom of his family. But
the whole night passed in broken slumber and dis
turbed dreams. From the cheerless morning meal,
at which he was reminded of the quarter’s bill
that must be paid, ol the coals and flour that were
out, aud of the necessity of supplying Mrs. Wal
cott’s empty purse, he went forth to meet the diffi
culties ot another day, faint at heart, aud almost
hopeless of success. A confident spirit, sustained
by home affections, would have carried him
through ; but, unsupported as he was, the burden
was too heavy for him, and he sank under it. The
day that opened so unpropitiously, closed upon
him a ruined man !
Let us look in for a few moments upon Mr. Free
man, a friend and neighbor of Mr. Walcott. He,
also, bad come home weary, dispirited, and almost
sick. The trials of the duv had been unusually
severe, and when he looked anxiously forward to
scan the future, not even a gleam of light was seen
along the black horizon.
As he stepped across the threshold of his dwel
ling, a pang shot through his heart, for the thought
come, “ How slight the present hold upon all these
comforts?” Not for himself, but for his wife uud
children was the pain.
“ Father’s come!” cried a glad little voice on the
stairs, the moment his footfall sounded in the pass
age ; then quick, pattering feet were heard—and
then a tiny form wits springing into his arms. Be
fore reaching the sitting room above, Alice, the
eldest daughter, was by his side, her arm drawn
fondly within his, and her loving eyes lifted to his
face.
“Areyou not late, dear?” It was the gentle
voice of Airs. Freeman.
Air. Freeman could not trust himself lo answer.
He was too deeply troubled iu spirit to assume at
the moment, a cheerful tone, ana he had no wish
to sadden the hearts that loved him, by letting the
depression from which he was suffering, become
too closely nwnn-nt—But the eyes of Alts. Free~
man saw quickly below the surface.
“ Are you uot well, Robert ?” she inquired ten
derly, as she drew his large arm-chair toward the
centre of the room.
“ A little headache,” he answered, with a slight
evasion.
Scarcely was Mr. Freeman seated ere a pair of
hands was busy with each foot, removing gaiter
and shoe, and supplying their place with a soft
slipper. There was not in the household one who
did not feel happier for his return, nor one who did
not seek to render him some kind office.
It was impossible, under such a burst of heart
sunshine for the spirit of Air. Freeman long to re
main shrouded. Almost imperceptibly to himself
gloomy thoughts gave place to more cheerful ones,
and by the time tea was ready he had half forgot
ten the tears which had so haunted him through
the day.
But they could not be held back altogether, and
their existence was marked, during the evening,
by an unusual silence and abstraction of mind.
This was observed bv Mrs. Freeman, who, more
than half suspecting the cause, kept back from
her husband the knowledge of certain matters
about which she had intended to speak lo him, for
she feared they would add to his mental disquie
tude. During the evening, she gleaned from
something he said, the real cause of his changed
aspect. At once her thoughts commenced run
ning in a new channel. By a few leading remarks
she drew her husband into conversation on the
subject of home expenses, and the propriety of re
striction in various points. Many things were mu
tually pronounced superfluous, and easily to be
dispensed with ; and belore sleep fell soothingly
on the heavy eyelids of Mr. Freeman that night,
an entire change in their style of living had been
determined upon—a change that would reduce
their expenses at least one half.
“I see light ahead," were the hopeful words of
Mr. F., as he resigned himself to slumber.
With renewed strength of mind and body, and
and a confident splwt, he went forth the next day
—a day that he had looked forward to with fear
and trembling. Aud it was only through this re
newed strength and confident spirit that he was
able to overcome the difficulties that loomed up,
mountains high, before him. Weak despondeucy
would have ruined all. Home had proved his
tower of strength—his walled citv. Strengthened
for the conflict, he had gone forth again into the
world, and conquered in the struggle.
“I see light ahead” gave place to “the morning
breaketh!’" ~ Obangk Blossoms.
Cure Tor Hog Cholera.
Hickman, Ky., July 28,1858.
Below you will find a receipt for coring the hog
cholera. It has been used with success by some
of the farmers in this neck of woods. Take two
ounces of coperas, two ounces of lime unslacked !,
two ounces of strong ashes, two ounces of sal so
da, two ounces of saleratus, eight ounces of salt
and one peck of meal—to be sea twice a day.
The next day take os many ears of corn as yon
have hogs to feed, and rub them well with tar,
and feed three times a day—feed alternately every
day, fallowing them to eat nothing greeif, until
a cure is effected. It ts very and is worth
a trial by those who are disposed to “save their
Bacon.”
TIK chile an n Fatal Accident. —We regret to
• iearn that George-C. Griffin, of this city, met wiih
■ a fatal accident, last Saturday, on board the
I steamship Alabama, prior to her leaving New Y’ork
■ for this port. It appears that he had gone aboard
the steamer, to take leave of some triends, and
i while there stumbled and was preciapated down
■ the after hatchway, a distance of iwenty-five or
thirty feet, breaking one arm, eras' ■ e his skull,
and otherwise mangling him in a 'ful man
• ner. He aied in a Tery short ttm- tie being
• conveyed to the hospital.
I ’ Savannah Jl . "f. 29.
Chiseled Hearts.
Why is it that poets make Cupid a little archer
sing of his swiftness, and rbjme him in with hearts
and darts, and painters pin pretty golden wings
to his shoulders that he may fly, but before they
finish him tie a bandage or'er bis eves to hinder
hint? After all this trammeling, lovers so fear
his weapons that they stand trembling in the pre
sence of their fair ones, fainting from the supposed
loss of blood which the fatal stab has caused!
Now, we do not believe that Master Cupid is any
such fairy-like abstraction as he is represented to
be, but a real bona fide matter-of-fact personage
one whom the ladies would do well to treat with
common courtesy, at least. Such intangible
wreaths of orange-flower sentimentality will do
very well to trim the ideal bridal cake, but seem
quite out of place around the brown-bread loaf life
of every-day life.
Unce on a time our little fair-haired, sly-footed
hero pulled the bandage from his eyes, turned
geologist, and with basket, hammer, and chisels
went forth among the fair ones of his village to
examine their hearts, and if possible ascertain of
what material they were made.
Coming to an elegant mansion, he gave the bell
a pull, and was waited on by a servant girl. “Take
my card to your mistress,” said the geologist
“and tell her lam come to examine her heart!” *
The servant girl, though somewhat surprised
did as she was directed. Miss Clara—for Clara
was the name of her mistress—was young, hand
some, proud, and an heiress; and was at that very
moment, by her sallies of wit, cutting sarcasm
and mild evasive answers, torturing a pale young
student who had the presumption to sue for her
hand.
She received the card with a haughty air, and
jocosely said, “show him up;” then resumed her
coquettish flirtations with the student, alternately
inspiring hope and awakening fear! S“ absorbed
was she in this heart-blighting business, and so
lightly fell the footsteps of the geologist along the
carpeted halls that he entered unperceived, and
was soon chiseling away at her heart.
It took but a few strokes of his hammer to en
able him to decide upon its quality. “Slate
stone,” said he, “and rather scaly, also. Ah ! this
heart will never do for me—it is susceptible of on
ly a light impression, and that is soon effaced; but
it wounds never to heal. I will write upon it,
‘ Know thyselt,’ but I suppose the injunction will
soon be forgotten.”
So the geologist departed, leaving the proud
beauty to reap the reward of her flirtation.
He next came to a low mean dwelling, in the
rear of a great thoroughfare ; seated near the on
ly window in the room, was a pale, thin dansel,
clad in a neat but humble attire. The shades of
sadness fell darkly over her young brow, and often
a deep sigh would escape her lips. Her fingers
were busily plying the needle, and stitch atter
stitch, as the thread was drawn forth by her
weary hand, seemed to strike a telegraphic wire
which recorded in Heaven, “ Oppression of the
poor.”
The geologist struck one rap with his hammer
on her heart; 'twas all unheeded, no response was
there, no elasticity. He tried to chisel—’twas cold,
hard and heavy, and the print of both hammer
and chisel was left. Upon a closer examination
he discovered that it was covered ull over with in
dentations of various depths and figures. “ Poor
girl!” said he to himself, “ your heart, whatever
it may be, is encased in lead; no wonder it looks
hard, and cold, and dull, for such has been your
lot in life that this leaden shield was necessary to
keep your heart from destruction; but if the rays
of friendship could shine upon it, and the fires of
love warm it, this leaden case would melt, and
the gem within glow with a silver brightness. But
I cannot wait to bring about this change ; I must
find me a heart to-day, for I may lose all my sober
judgment to-morrow, and be nothing but a winged
Cupid again.” So he wrote on it with a sharp
style, “ Blessed are they who mourn now, for they
shall be comforted,” atid went his way.
He had not proceeded far before be perceived a
group of young ladies standing near one of the
street crossings, eagerly engaged in conversation.
A brilliant brunette fixed his attention—she was
richly dressed and sparkling with jewels.
“I must have a tap at her heart, said he, “ for
one would suppose by the setting that the gem was
of rare value.”
So he glided up, unperceived. and gave it a rap.
A cracked, ringing sound saluted his eais.
" What a mistake in judgment,” he exclaimed.
“This heart, which I supposed was of gold, is
nothiug but plate brass, and poorly made at that!
’Tis hardly worth a scratch, but I will write on it,
‘Tinkling cymbol’—fit heart for a belle 1”
He next tried his hammer upon the heart of a
damsel who stood beside the brunette. She was
very fair, with a cold leaden eye and passive mien.
At the first stroke of his chisel pieces flew off into
his face. “This,”said he, “is uothing but chalk!
one might make a rough sketch with it, but could
never produce a beautiful picture. ’Tis quite too
earthlv for me.” So he wrote “Fickleness” upon
it, and turned his attention to a third figure in he
group. She was a maid of thirty years, tall, trim
and neat, but there was a sort of preciseness and
baod-box air about her which at first quite intimi
dated him.
At length he summoned resolution to give her
heart a rap, and soon learned that action was equal
to re-action, for his hammer repulsed with a vio
lence proportionately to the force of the blow.
“All me. he i v< |-i-o-l, “■ ;p.|..Mn i,
and beautiful, but cold ! Fit mominien' for boned
hopes! I must have something warmer.” The
geologist now became quite discouraged, and was
about to return home and give over the search,
when the sound of music arrested his ntt< ntion ; it
iroceeded from the opposite side of the street,
ie listened, and the sound grew more and more
seraphic, and be imagined the performer must be
angelic.
“How fortunate,” said he, “that I did not re
trace my steps, for here is, doubtless, just the
heart forme; at any rate, I must try my chisel
and hammer upon it.” He crossed the street, and
entering unperceived, was for a moment entranced
with the superior loveliness of his charmer.
He now took his hammer and chisel, and began
upon her heart, but not the least impression could
,be made upon it. There it was, unmoved, in all
its brilliancy. “ This must be a diamond heart,”
said he, “and I will possess it. 1 will cut mv own
image upon it, and it shall be mine forever.” So
he hammered and chiseled away, and his churuier
sang on. The strokes grew harder ami harder ;
his chisel beeame dull; the face of his hammer
was broken; his arm was tired, and not even a
faint out-line of his own image appeared “It
will be labor lost, after all,” said lie. “ Tnis
heart, though it may be a diamond one, can never
be assimilated with mine, and if I did possess it,
I fear It would not make me happy. It seems to
be a heart more for ornament than use. I must
have both qualities in one.” He would have
written upon it, “ Jfrne, ruet.e, tetri, v/Jtarnin,” but
the temper of his steel was too brittle.
He now resolved to search no further, but in
the retirement ufliis chamber to reflect calmly
and dispassionately on the subject, till he could
come to some definite conclusion respecting the
kind of heart Le most needed, anil could the most
devotedly love. While he was walking along in
this contemplative mood, he came to a neat farm
house, which wore such an air of contentment,
through all its surroundings, that he ileiermined
to go in and rest himself. Giving a gentle tap at
the door, it was opened by an artless damsel, who
gave hitn a cordial welcome, and perceiving that
he was weary, brought him a cup of cold water.
Her cheek was radiant with the hue of health, and
through her eves shone out the peace and light of
the soul; her face was brimful of the “milk of hu
man kindness.”
The thought soon suggested itself to our travel
ler that he would try the heart of this simple girl
so lie rapped lightly upon it. The response was’
full and clear. “This is good metal,” said he, “I
know it by the ring;” so he continued to hammer
it. In a short time it grew warm.
“Ah,” said he, “there is life here.” Soon sparks
were dieted. “There is an active, undving prin
ciple here!” °
He now tried his chisel upon it; the strokes
were bold and the impression full—no roughness,
no brittleness—he could cut it where he pleased’
write his own thoughts there; the impress was
permanent, yet the heart was warm, ductile, but
firm. “I am a happy man at last,” said he ; “this
heart is iron. I will endure all suffering, brare all
danger, and tit myself to unv emergency; and
though it is not brilliant like the diamond, or fair
to look upon like the marble, 'tis susceptible of a
far higher polish- It will receive anv temper £
choose to give it. It will receive any impress—in
short, I can make it into the finest steel, when it
will be fit for the most ornamental as well as use
ful purposes. Yes, give me the iron heart, so
firm, yet malleable. It can warm and melt, and
purer grow till it reflects my own image, and vet
be iron still. I will engrave mv name upon it, and
none shall {dispute my claim.” So saying, he
drew a magnet over it, and the simple iron heart
became attracted to him with an unalterable at
tacbment.
Jfd.-ijt—Select a heart of metal sore.
Then mould it to your will;
VTorth more than beauty, wiil endure.
And yet be beauty still,
jar? Siwox- Scogs ” has not retired from the
editorial chair of the Montgomery Mail.