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About Weekly constitutionalist. (Augusta, Ga.) 185?-1877 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 13, 1867)
®he (Weekly Constitutionalist. BY STOCKTON k CO. OUR TERMS. The foliowing are the rates of Subscription and Ad vertising in the Cosmtitctionalist : Wbbblt— 3 Months. 76 6 Months 1 50 Rates of Advertising IN THE OONfe riTtJTIONAI^IST From February 1, 1867. 1 $3 OO” Jft 00 6 50 f 8 00 | 13 0k , 17 00 20 qp 22 50 25 OQ 2 6 00 8 00 11 00 13:00 ' 22 00 28 00 32 60 37 00 41 00 3 6 50 11 00 14 00 ’ 17:0 ) 28 00 ; 36 50 42 00 43 00 53 50 4 8 00 14 00 17 00 20*00 33 00 j 43 00 50 00 57 00 G3 50 6 9 50 16 50 $ 00 2} 00 j 38 00 SO 00 58 00 06 00 73 60 6 11 00 18 ( 0 23 00 26 00 43 00 50 00 05 00 74-00 §3 00 '{ w” -i '■&' I ' jr! 1 - 7 12 50 2 ) 00 25 00 ] 29 00 48 00 j 02 50 72 00 82 00 92 00 8 14 00 22 00 2< f <» 32 00 £3 00 69 00 80 00 91 00 100 00 9 15 60 24 00 - 30 00 35 00 68 00 | 75 00 87 00 98 00 10S 00 10 17 00 26 00 S£ 00 37 00 61 50 80 00 92 00 104 00 115 00 % Col. 22 50 82 50 40 00 46 00 76 00 97 60 112 60 127 60 ' 140 00 1 Col. 35 00 60 00 60 00 70 00 116 00 150 00 172 60 192 50 210 00 One square, 1 Insertion, 75 cents; each additional insertion, under 1 week, 60 cents.' 26 per cent, additional for advertisements kept on the Inside. 25 per cent, ad iitionai in Special Column. 25 per cent, nd litionai for Double Column. Marriage and funeral Notices, sl. Obituaries, 20 cents per line. Communications, 20 cents per line. . Tri-Weekly or Daily e. o. and. for one month ordonger, two-thirds above rates. In. Weekly for one month or longer, one-third the rates for Daily. ■*' In Daily, Tri-Weekly anc Weekly, double the daily rates. Advertisements continued for one year, will be charged two-thirds the t> have rates for the last six months. ; It will bo perceived b the foregoing that we have reduced the rates of advertising fifteen to twenty per cent., to take effect-on this day. Sing'e Papers, 5 cents; to news boys, 2% cents. Tx »MB—Cash. Capital and Labor. “ The autumn winds blow shrill and col', Black winter soon will come; Ueaven help the poor—protect the old— And give to all a homo.” Thus often does the rich man pray, . With solemn tone an I word ; But, oh 1 how seldom docs lie say, “ I’ll be thtnc agent, Lord. “ The needy that around me live Shall have my dally care, And from thy treasure lent, I’ll give To all who need a share. And as this wea th is fas increased, By laboring needy men, I will not grudgingly withhold The profits due to them.” But, no I he has no goods to waste; He has no time to spare; So offering t hem to Heaven for help, Ilis conscience eased, he leaves them theic, And turns his thoughts to earth again, His factory or his farm. And studies to increase his wealth By the lattoror’s sinewy arm. And how to get from labor most, And In return give least, ■ . He cares not if his workmen starve. If he can only feast. And so he’ll make their wages less. Grind down with iron heel, Until In poverty’s distress E’en manhood scarce they leel. Men with God’s impress in their soul, His likeness on their brow. Obeying Heaven’s command to toll, Must slaves before him bow. Arouse ye laborers! Take anew And nobler view of life; Cast oft’ these base, degrading chains, Bf manly in the strife; Unite with brotherly accord, In love, sincere and true, And, standing firm, demand the tight* So long and justly due. What are those rights ? For every hour Os toil sufficient pay To make your homt-sless comfortless, And keep grim Want, a wav; * . To lighten tho too heavy load Your weary wives, now bear; To feed and clothe your little ones, And have some time to spare. Neglected minds to cultivate, <e To study and reflect, - ! And fit yourselves tbr usefulness, Where duty may direct, < ? But struggle not for this a 1 one, . For priocinjs contend; Make Labor honored and revered, v Be this your aim and end. nd ra ! ' the humblest laborers, v At! > stand beside <*rj ■ » Mfb t A>ir toll* <yn?i that they wciV witu trie* feminine v » .around on the tots of their Note H'iJed back up the street, ana* • reached Market street bv » v er.ee waswitnessed by „ .mud la> f is & The hour of parun* L. .. of drear .; Be thy sleep calm and deep,' A spell of down on silky eyelids laid ; Between our pillows di-tance orly seems, Darkness is a transparent shade, And sweetest speeches silences inclose, Like roses’ perfume folded in the rose— Growing intense as silence deeper grows : fc'till nearest and dearest, Thy heart and mind will keep ; Through the dim star ti *, into the far clime, Down Slumber*! fathomless stream. We shall Aoat together in balmy weather, , ' With thoughts of bliss agle&m; Good night! Gobd night—goc and night! Those tepder words are but a tender cheat; We know whether we go Beyond arms’ rqpeh or wide as worlds apart, Together we shall throb at each heart-beat; Thrilled by the same elec trie dart, « Shot from the arch god’s arched low, Through either bosom’s wall of snow— Forever and forever be it so! Though far as star from star, Twin souls will interflow; All ®e dusks between are a slimy sheen, Bat silver threads the tides, And every “good night ” Is a vet! of delight, .Where Love transfigured hides ; Good night j THE INIEEPEB’S COTTAGE. j At the corner of a small crescent in Peckhaiu there stands a cottage which has little in com mon with the grand houses beside it. It is an ohl-i’asbioocd little place, with a bit of ground in front, which is enclosed by a row of short green railings ; it has been ingeniously deco i rated with peaks which makes it look, like a | squat villa ; and the deep green ivy only par tially covers the dark and dirty bricks of the old walls. About two years ago anew tenant came to this cottage, as was very speedily evident even to those who had never seen the new-comer. An air of stillness came over the dingy win dows and brightened up the null flower-beds in front. The blinds were now smart and clean ; through the panes one might observe little pots of geraniums inside ; and an effort was made to remove the hopelessly melancholy look of cer tain shrubs which surrounded the door-steps. I bad occasion to pass the cottage pretty nearly every morning, but never caught a glimpse of the occupant whose good taste was working the change. The only index to his or her posi tion in life which the curosity of Pcckham could discover was the fact that some throe weeks a small ticket appeared in the window intimating that furnished apartments were to be let within. It was nearly dusk when U ulysses and I, re luming from Croydon, had to pass the corner of this crescent; and we were both engaged in calculating how much a steeplechase jockey ought to be paid for risking his neck. As we were about to cross the 6treet, a little girl, not three years of age, toddled out of the bit of a garden in frotjt of this cottage and approached the edge of the pavement, the small gate having been left wide open. U A stupid thing to allow children to ruu about in that way,” said Ulysses. A post office van was being driven rapidly round the crescent, apd we crossed the street somewhat quickly, but had scarcely got to the other side when the loud cry of a man and the shriek of a woman simultaneously broke upon the harsh rattle of the wheels. Ulysses was the first to look round, aud I have now hut a dim recollection of the sight which almost blinded my eyes, as I followed his example. The child, •having apparently attempted to cross the street with us, had been stopped by the warning ory of her mother —a young woman whom sudden terror had seemingly deprived of the power of motion —and, in turning in obedience to the cry, had passed right in the path of the cart. — All this I saw in a moment, and, as I stood paralyzed by the awful danger of the situation, I had a vague and rapid vision of Ulysses rush ing forward, and with one arm dashing the horse’s head aside, while with the other he strove to pick up the little bundle of clothes which the left foot of the horse, on the auimal being suddenly pulled up, had tumbled over on the ground. Then I saw Ulysses himself stum ble and fall, so: the forward impetus of the horse, which was almost pulled back on its haunches, drove him over. But the next mo ment he was on his feet again, while I had picked up the little girl who seemed quite un hurt. • - Squares. 1 Week. 2 Weeks. 3 Weeks. 1 Month. 2 Months. 3 Months. 4 l^onths. 5 Months. 0 Months. The mother came running forward and caught the littlte truant iu her arms and kissed her over aad over again, and scolded her in a hysterical way, and said taUlysscs, rapidly iu French: “ Virgin’bless you !” •I thoughrat first it was the foreign language whichjmuleUtlim operJ his eyes so very largely.; but'j®dßn|iy v hfe cries out: Bhaatfß|ftfl.,;tt him with.those big dark eyes of'henßH|l&lL but a moment ago, had been beamirtjfte>v%r with gratitude; and a sudden smile lit up ter face. “It you, therefore, who have been the good angel of my little Virginia. How much do I not owe you ?” She was still much excited, and insisted, in the sam& hysterical way, that we should go into her house. There she sat down, aud the Jjttle girl with her big eyes lull of wonder, crept up on her mamma’s knee, and began ask ing little childish questions in her sweet hesi tating French. . The mother eat for several seconds iu silence, merely regarding the child’s eyes, and forehead and hair ; then all of a sud den she burst'Tnto tears, clasped her arms con vulsively round the little girls neck, and kept them there, despite the renewed inquiries as to “ what mamma was crying about,” I had thus time to regard more particularly the friend whom Ulysses had so singularly en countered. She was an unusually handsome woman, perhaps about years cf age,’ with luxuriant Mack hair, large, expres sive dark eyes, very white teeth, and a fine, clear, rosy complexion, one rarely observed iu French women. Her dress suggested that she was not in very affluent circumstances; aud the room into which she had led us was poorly, but neatly furnished. “Who would have thought of seeing you in j London, Marie?” said Ulysses. “I thought the world was turned upside dowu when I saw j your face! and Henri—” She strove to recover her equanimity, put j down the child, and, in auswer to my friend’s j implied question, merely pointed to her black i dress. “Wfi had not been in England a year when he died,” she said, “and since then I have been ! in this house without a visitor or friend. The j neighbors have spoken once or twice to Virgin- j ia, and, I dare say, faueied that no one in the house knew more English than she did.” “And you—how have you learned English ?” j asked Ulysses—for she spoke our tongue with j freedom, though her foreign acceut was very perceptible; “when -you used to go to that 1 pension at the top of the hill, you' remember ! you eould not repeat ti half dozen sentences.”.! “1 have to learn,”, she said, with a quiet j smile. jror 1 The about the-pensiouYad to the tevivaTof u wlidle- host afreihiulscences con cerning the woman’ had come. tc : London. From these I | gathered that Ulygesi three or four years ago, ! had been on a wfllklrfg tour in Normandy, and had been tempted fiy the peculiar beauty of i this little village to rcpiaiu in it or make it liis 1 headquarters lor somfrweeks. Marie was .then,, 1 the daughter of fAe,lnmfcs^r»^^.^aTflii.lu!‘ ) 1 pleasant, qn blqfotctisFiT/ wlio , •au greatly wouisrport the heart of our Scotch a c by her dkgjOTng ways and her native ettlness SSajßmplicity. Wjien Ulysses itailf, left the coun&w, Marie about tobe married tte a from who had vague agteraSe bis for -1 tunes in England,ior Russia, or America. Eng l>pd had finally* bed! the place of his choice, and he had just begun to make a goo A posit iou for himsei* wbcEusfa£ic was rendered a widow. X dovf j roisfdTSjJneieil upon her, for almost. Ut if,e -pe tjiaehcf father died, leaving her ; withqrffa frieid Or relative to aid or console ,J*ritah? nevertheless, of return yßg to her Nos man when it was repre isfented to her by the partner of her late hns %and that, the best method of obtaining a per | manenf,' though scanty means of subsistence, was to remain in England and receive the share ; of what profits Height accrue from the business which her husband had started. That she had accordingly done; bat the income which sho from the business having-graduaily be -1 come even smaller than ever, she had been forced to adopt the last resort of respectable I poverty—the letting of apartments. I m Why,” cried Ulysses at this point, “I am ! jpyscli in search of apart ments!” ,r The sutfden light onoy on the young girl’s J lace showed she had comprehended the mean ! ing of his exclamation; but the next moment 1 there was another expression which Ulysses evidently did not catch. She was debating with herself as to whether it was “proper” to re ceive into her house as a lodger this old friend* AUGUoTA, GA., W .DNESDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 13, • 1867. Ulysses on the other hand was delighted with 1 the idea, and accused himself of nnheard of enormities in that he had no sooner discovered the very place he desired. Presently, too, the dubious gravity was sweptjaway from Marie’s face. She had~ plainly but little concern as to what her grand neighbors might think of the arrangement, so long as she h rself was satis fied of its propriety, and that very night it was resolved that Ulysses should forthwith become an occupant of the small and tidy cottage. Everybody was satisfied except myself, Ulys ses having on his arrival in London confided , himself to my guardianship, I felt myself re- * sppnsible for his safety; and could not help recognizing the fact that, in becoming Marie’s | lodger, he was placing himself in a position of i the greatest danger. What were'the purloin-! ing devices of Mrs. Ptumstcad, or the subtle] wiles of Mrs. Lemuel to the charming graefe ! and ingenuousness of the young Freneliwo- j man? I ventured with painful embarrassment to • suggest something of the sort. “ Brown,” said Ulysses, blushing violently,! “ I know what I’m about.” “No man knows what he’s about when ex- ! posed to such temptation,” I remarked. “ Why, you don’t insinuate ” said he. “ I insinuate nothing, said I, “ but the man j who walks into an open pit, except in the way ; of kindness is”— “ This is no subject fdr jest.” “ I recognize the gra.ity of the situation; and am determined you shall not imperil your- j self without warning. You have already escap-. ’ ed dangers”— “ You don’t mean to say,” cried Ulysses ! hotly, “ that you put this French lady on the same footing as these women in whose houses ; I’ve been V Why, 1 toll you, a man as blind ns a bat would see that she is as a—as a—as a dove in lact. I dpn’t know what you mean. If I were in your position I should be ashamed of myself for uttering insinuations against a per son I had never seen but for ten minutes; and to tell you the truth, I consider it a most dis graceful thing that a man should”— “My ebullient hero, who said, or did or thought of ail the wild crimes you are talking about ? You are going to be this lady’s lodger. Good! I have nothing more to say.” “I should think uofc,” said UJyssess with a pretty feminine toss of the head. This coy versation occurred on our walk home the same evening. The next morning Ulysses removed his effects to the cottage. Let the reader remember it was the 2‘Jth of November. Two days thereafter I saw Ulysses. He was bubbling over with praises of his charming landlady—of her goodness, her patience, her kindness, her pretty manners, etc. I had seen her and was not surprised at his enthusiasm, but utterly failed to see why he should direct every sentence at my head as though it were a metaphorical cannon ball. “ I never denied her the possession of all these good qualities,” I remarked; “ why should you crow over me because your land lady is good and obliging ?” I saw him two days later, aud his conversa tion was in the same strain, only that it was more gushing than ever. It seemed to me that Ulysses was bent upon proving that there was not a tolerable woman in London, Marie hav ing monopolized .all the wit and beauty and graceful manners of the metropolis. I humbly assented to all he said of the paragon ; and Ulysses was good enough to signify that he be gan to consider me less of the horrible wretch I had on former occasions appeared to be. Now, having of late years been accustomed to look upon sensation dramas as rather tame, and on sensation novels as weak attempts to set one’s hair on end, I had come to the con clusion that a man of culture having undergone some such course of instruction, should never allow himself to be moved by the vulgar excite ment of astonishment I confess, however, that I write these lines under the emotion produced upon me by what occurred in my house last night. Ulysses called upon me. He was at once over-garrulous and painfully awkward ; boist erously friendly in manner, and again timidly courteous ; I was about to ask him some im pertinent question, when the whole secret came out at once. He was about to be married. I affected profound indiffereece. “ I foresaw it,” I remarked, quietly. “ Nonsense,” he cried. “ A fact, however. Didn’t I warn you ?” “ That was in fun, you know. You didn’t expect it to be so soon ; but what’s the use of hanging over such a matter for mere form's sake, when both parties know each other well ? Why, Brown,” he added, with a fine, rosy em barrassed laugh, “ I fell in love with that girl the moment I saw her, and that is more than three years ago. I haven’t, been dreaming of her ever since, but now I see her again—by Jove, it’s wonderful. Now confess I’ve done right!” But I never make any confessions; all I know is, that my guardianship of Ulysses is from henceforth abolished, and thaf I leave him to his late. Female Beautv in Washington—The Re gister of TnE Speaker. —There is more of feminine beauty assembled in Washington this winter than has ever been known capital before. This, I have been informed, is attribute cd to the fact that since the increase of compen sation to members of Congress, these gentle men have been better enabled to bring their wives and daughters here than heretofore, and to indulge in the gaieties and dissipations of the capital. ***** Speaker Colfax’s receptions on Thursday evenings are very largely attended. The visi tors are, however, almost wholly from the North and East, but very few Washingtonians mingling with them. Shoddy appears iu all its glory at these receptions ot Speaker Colfax. Sutlers aud contractors, bummers and cotton thieves, accompanied by their wives and daugh ter, may be seen there. Yankee school-marms and successful peddlers, the peripatetic book vender aud the wlilte-cravated parson may be heard iu the Speaker’s saloons, dilating on the sinfulness of Southerners and the superior status of the people of the North and of Yau tkeedom in particular. There, too, may be seer* I the military men without merit—such as Butle-, [ Bauks, Loan, Schenek, and the host of Quixotic j heroes who have disgraced their country and enriched themselves by their doughty deeds. I'Thad. Stevens, with his saturnine countenance, . the very impersonation of an earthly fiend, is ‘ there, too, always surrounded by a bevy ol puritanical misses, who lo.ok upon the Penn sylvanian Apollo as their beau ideal of a states man. ’Tis worthy of remark that the hest ; society, as it is called, is never seen there. — Foreign Ministers nor any of their families, or attaches even, make their appearance among the mongrel groups who Oil the Speaker's parlors, f Correspondence o f the St. Louis Times. Howto go to Bed ox Cold Nights.—Hall’s Journal of Health—good authority—gives the following advice on the subject t Doit in a hurry, if there is no fire in the room ; and there ought not to be unless yon are quite an invalid. But if a*person is not ingood health it is bflst to undress by a good fire; warm and dry the feet well; draw on the stock tngs again; jump into bed, cuddle ub with head and errs under cover a minute or more until yon feel a UGle warm; then uncover the head ; next draw off your stock ings, straighten out, turn over ootyour rightWde and go to sleep! If a sense of chilliness comes over s’on on net ting into bed, it always will do an injury, and its repetition increases the ill effect, without having any tendency to “ harden” you. ’ Nature abhors violence. We shocked into health. Hard usage makes no garments last long. Letter from Dr. Lord. ; 7 la- Manner of Overthrowing Slavery—Mahom mefantsm—- What will the Future Bring rorth '1 he Appro dr king Catastrophe. ] T,J tJte Editor of the Charleston Mercury : Dear Sin—The interest with which I am j suref ure he read by his friends In the South l * 3 my excuse for placing at your disposal the | following letter from ihe late President ol Dartmouth College. * • Yery respectfully yonrs, R. 1..M.,Jr. | . • Hanover, N. 11., Jan. 8,1867. ! My Dear Sm : j * * # # * * * * t I have ever admitted, with yourself, great ! abuses of slavery at the South, and would not ] pretend that the scourge has fallen upon you I without a cause. Ido not justify, in point of Christian principle, or common prudence, the i methods by which you sought redress of the ' wrongs you have, for more than a generation, j received from the North. But I more blame ourselves, first, for our denunciation of slavery itself, in distinction from its abuses, and then ; for our “ irrepressible conflict ” with it, under ! taken upon false moral and political grounds, j find carried, hatefully, as it has been, after a j Mahometan fashion. Were the institution a ! malum in.se, and not sometimes a conservative necessity for all the parties, our method of ] overcoming it has been, from first to last, un i worthy of a Christian people. We have done j the work. \V e have given you a dreadful pun j ishment. But, as we have done it in un j righteousness,, our retribution, some time, | somehow, wiii come, perhaps to general disso ; lution. Yet ! dare not speculate about the future. Political convulsions, financial reactions, moral infatuations, aud their necessary consequences, can never be wisely calculated beforehand, and particular prophecyiugs are very apt to be de lusive. I know not how to answer your ques tions as to the future of the country, or any part of it. I fold my hands,, and wait upon the providence of God. But in the general, and in the long run, I see no good before us. Judg ment will conic. There may be delays, aud occasional prospects of recovery. But “ the hurt of the daughter of my people ” can be healed but slightly. Her constitution is broken; her blood is corrupted ; her nerves are shat tered ; her powers of digestion and assimila tion are essentially impaired ; her physicians are empirical; her atmosphere is poisoned, and her history, like that of other prostituted and apostate .nations, wili be written as a memo rial of human wickedness and the displeasure of God. I think thus, the rather, because I seem to see an approaching catastrophe of all the na tions. The world has grown old iu transgres sion. From East to West the experiment of reforming and saving it has been tried in vain. We are the westernmost and last; and now that Christianized, Anglo-Saxon, republican wisdom has failed, instead ol calling on God for help, we tire calling upon the negro. We look to a brutified, shiftless aud licentious people to aid us in the work of self-government which has been impossible" to ourselves, and which, I now believe, is impossible on earth, till Christ, whom we antjall Uie nations virtually refuse, shall take the government on his own shoulder.— Some of us will be saved; some of the negroes will be saved. Christian discipline will not be without effect. There will be a chosen rem nant. But.as human wickedness has ever been in the ascendant above all the means of virtue, and is now more than ever stimulated, arrogant and overreaching,! see no general deliverance till a higher dispensation shall be set up, and the hindrances to virtue shall be taken out of the way. That will not be by philosophy, poli tics, or superstitious or fanatical Christianity, or any other appliances of humanitarian civili zation, but by the manifestations of Him, who has bought us with his blood—“the blessed and the only Potentate.” „ The demonstration seems now almost com plete, that man can neither govern nor be gov erned, nor govern himself, and that the last failure will somehow prove the greatest of all. The volcanic throes of the nations to overturn arbitrary power will bo ultimately successful. Then “ liberty, equality, fraternity,” will have its short day ; and when its Babel seems t,o be completed, the dream of earth will vanish. Then the tufted despot; yea—the anti-Christ— that wicked one, and then the “New Era.” No matter how soon it comes. Meanwhile, it belongs to us, in our appointed spheres, to do what we can to strengthen the things that remain and lesson the catastrophe : “ Occupy till I come.” But here all such prophecying is vain. I find myself almost alone. I sometimes imagine that I could do more among your people, and even among the outcast, suffering and perishing negroes than among the philanthropists who have given them a boon which they know not how to use, and which these boasters never would have given them but to make them sub servient to their fanatical enterprises or their lust of power. But my day is past. What can one at three-score and fifteen do but to repose, and prate, and lament ? Yet I thank God that I repose in peace, amidst innumerable domestic and social bless iiigs ; and, though not quite welcome in the synagogues, maytestify and even croak without serious molestation. One of my greatest sources of enjoyments is the frequent friendly greeting of those pupils with whom I went in and out before the palsying influence of the war. Will you please to give to j-our friends whom I have met, and to others whom I have learned to value on their and your account, the assurance of my best regards/. k, * * * # I am, very truly, your friend and servant, , 1 . N. Lohd. ApExxNDEfc 11. Stephens.—Colonel John Lewis Payson has just published in England a work on “ The American Crisis.” We select the following passage from-the quotations given in a review of it by the “ Cosmopolitan As I passed out of the office offhe Secretary of the Nsvv, expressing a hope that he might enjoy his repast and digest it satisfactorily, which I doulffqd, from the character of the pro visions then in the Richmond market, I encoun tered in the hall a lean, yellow, careworn man, his back bent forward almost tntoahnmp, his chest bowed inward, one shqplder higher than the other, small arms and wasted legs, hands and fingers long and bony,' dress loose and wrinkled, and shabby, grey-looking, damp and mouldy. Ilis face Vas bony and emaciated, withered and twitching; his scanty hair fell on his shoulder in disorders. His chin Was smooth and beardless, his breath short, while his restless eyes blazed wjth excitement. His voice, as he addressed such acquaintances as he met, was sharp, shrill aud squeaking, and his whole ap pearance faded, anxious, disappointed, extraor dinary—so much so that he passed no one who did not turn and take a secondgaze. I thought I had. never seen so singular an object, and inquired of my nearest neighbor what appari tion it was. Imagine my surprise when 1 was informed that it was Mr. Alexander H. Steph ens, the .eloquent Georgia orator, the conser vative statesman, and euergctic Vice-President of the Confederate States.” - • Jft a religious meeting among the colored preacher requested that some brother should pray. Thereupon half-witted Mose commenced a string of words entirely without meaning. At this the pastor raised his head, and enquired, “Who dat praying ? Dat you, broder Mose ? Ton let 'homebody pray dats better acquainted wid de Lord.” [From the‘Cincinnati Enquirer. Os Gift Enterprises, Several inquisitive people arC.trying to smell i a very gigantic mice in the recent dfawhm at ; Chicago. The question into- whose hands "the Opera House has fallen exercises them bevond description, and from the Gordian knot to the patent safe no enigrha seems so hard to unfold. : do most solemnly assure onr doubting ■ friends that it is all upon the square. This was I certified to in advance by a large number—in | fact all—of the highly respectable citizens of 1 Chicago ; ministers of orthodox denominations, in regular standing in their congregations, against whom no suits for divorce were then pending; physicians (old school allopathic) in extensive practice in first families ; devout law yers, bankers, brokers, grain-dealers, pork butchers, hotel-keepers, and gentlemen of large property generally. It is now known thatthere was one of the prizes which Crosby did not draw; and this we hope is sufficient to put for ever to silence those hasty and suspicions peo ple who are insinuating the unworthy idea that they have been swindled because ihey have not received, by mail, a deed of the Opera House in return for their five dollars and interest since September last. There is a pretty wide spread opinion, that Crosby’s Opera House has been drawn by Cros by. Why not ? What so natural as that Hol land should be taken by the Hollanders ? The great Crosby Gift Enterprise was not organ ized with a view to enrich a large number, nor any number of American citizens at Crosby’s expense. If Mr. Crosby could have made a million out of it, and let the Opera-house slide, perhaps, out of his regard to the reputations of all the highly respectable citizens of Chicago, who gave their testimony that the thing was on the square, he would have let it slide ; but when it became the question: to lose a million, or not let the Opera House slide, the case is con siderably altered. Then, fellow-citizens, busi ness is business. “He who careth not for liis own, and especially for they who are of his own household, hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.” Our neighbors aud friends, if they find themselves swindled, did dled, choused—we are hot particular as to the expression—have this for their consolation: that they have an abundance of company, and that the speculation in which they embarked was warranted sound by all the holders of first class pews and high.prieed turn-outs in Chicago. A mnn who buys tickets in any gift enterprise with the expectation that he js not to be swin dled, is a person of great and unsophisticated innocence and simplicity. The only thing that can relieve these concerns of the charge of swindling is that their projectors begin by giv ing notice that they are going into the swin dling business. Their victims, therefore, can ] not complain that they have been robbed with out due warning. In games of chance there are just grounds of preference. Iu those where the chances arte equal, a maa may be unwise to invest, but he will not be acc@unted foolish for expecting to receive as much as he risks. In all these enterprises, the chances are admitted to be greatly unequal, and yet pains are taken to keep the public from kuowing how unequal they are. In the ordinary lotteries, the chances against the ticket-holder are said to be about fifteen per cent.; in the game of faro about the same in favor of the banker ; in an average gif enterprise, where the tickets are ail sold, prob ably the manager’s chance is equal to eighty or ninety per cent, upon the whole sum received — the prizes delivered, at their actual value, do not rise above ten per cent, upon the gross re ceipts. , -—* The whole plan of these.gift affairs is impu dent from beginning to end. They start with some man who wauls to make a fortune by a sudden stroke ; or by some adventurer who de sires to live without labor; or by some lij’po critieal philanthropist who wants more money, and thinks.it a good way to get it to endow a charitable institution iu advance with a large sum of the proceeds of his scheme, while he expects to pocket a larger one. 'ln short, it is a species of robbery, in which a man demands of the public that an exception be made in liis favor ; that he be permitted, without labor, without doing anything useful, without adding any thing to the wealth of the country or to ! the comfort of individuals, to take, in the course of a few weeks, upon false pretenses, as much i money from the pockets of Ms fellow-citizens, j as shall robnild bis broken fortunes, repair his , mistakes, obliterate the memory of bis lollies j or vices, or.make him, who was not so before, f and never deserved to be, rich an I eomforta- j ble. From this starting point, the process is one of the grossest m i-representation. Hor.-es, lands, pictures, statu ry, cutlery, jewelry and trinkets, frequently of the poorest and cheapest qualities, are set forth in flaming advertise ments as valuable almost beyond a precedent; and we eould, if ’wc h and space and time, relate some ludicrous iucid nts of the astonishment ot holders ot prize ti kets, who, when expect ing to feast their ej'e upon gorgeous jewelry and table furniture ot the most elegant and artistic description, ird thrust into their hands a commodity of p.ncbback rings, wooden breast-pins, German silver thimbles, and tea spoons, which, through their thin coating of galvanic silver, looked almost as brassy as the individual to whom the work of ! distributing the prizes was intrusted. There has been some indignation expressed at the proprietors of several of these enter prises—one or more,, we believe, at Chicago— who saw fit to dispose entirely with the cere* mony of drawing, and, as soon as their tickets were sold, pocketed the money, closed their of fices, and took up their residences in parts un known. According to our theory, this indig nation is entirely uncalled for; and we give these persons credit for understanding the Gift Enterprise business better, and carrying out its essential principles more fully, than others of tbe same calling. A man who is foolish enough to put out bis money, with only one chance in ten of getting it back, his bat little right to complain if that chance is taken from him ; and where the tiling from beginning to end is impudent deception, he who carries the thing farthest, and makes the cleanest sweep, best deserves the . credit of being a skillful Work man. According to our notion, in strict poeti cal justice, this is the way they should all ter minate. Hence, if Mr. Crosby lias done by liis Opera House as the Dutch did by Holland, we commend him for it. He has done precisely as we expected; and, as he would probably find it inconvenient to take trp bis residence in parts unknown, ihe plan of drawing his own prop erty was as good as any that could have been pitched upon. - Vessel Burnt at Sea. —The pilot boat Pride, (So. b,) which reached the city yes ter- . day afternoon, reports that on Sunday night last, when she was between Cape Roraain and j Bull’s Island, noticed, at some distance off, ' what appeared to be a vessel on Ore. Stood tor it, and reached It about 0, a. m., Monday, when | a vessel, apparently a brig or schooner, was J discovered burnt to the water’s edge. The skill j of the pilot boat was launched and sent near to ! the burning emit, but she wa3 so far destroyed i that nothing could be seen to identify her. The , words “New York” were visible on her stm’n, L but her name was burnt out. She was afta ' rently ladPn with lumber, and hei*crew had; no doubt, taken to the boat and made for the tend, or had been picked up by a passing vessel. The wreck was about twenty. live miles east ot ; Charleston Bar, in fourteen fathoms of water. \Cha* lesion News, 6 th. L. Q. C. Lamar, formerly of this Btate, has been elected Professor of Governmental Science and Law in the Mississippi State University, at Jackson, and S. C. Garland, L. L. D., has been called to the Chair of Experimental Fhiloso. pby. VOL. 25. NO. 7 The Demoralizing Tendencies of the Popular Literature of the Day—Sermon by Kev. Dr. Littlejohn. At special services in the Church of the Re deemer, Brooklyn, last Sunday evening, Rev. Dr. Littlejohn, by request of the rector, repeat ed his sermon on “The Demoralizing Tenden cies of the Popular Literature of the Day,” and was listened to with marked attention by the very large congiegation present. The reverend gentleman commenced bis discourse by stating that the sermon was originally prepared for the* benefit of the Churoh Book Society, an institu tion established lor the purpose of counteract ing the evil effects which mnst arise lrom the reacting of the popular literature of the day, which was the emanation of the minds of not only irreligious nd imjpious pessons, but to tally irresponsible men, who never seem to think or remember that a record is kept in Heaven of their writings and the results —men who write for purely mercenary motives ; who desire to achieve nothing lurther than notorie ty and originality ; who care not, nor pause to think, of the effects their works produce, and attach no responsibility whatever to the issues of the brains. They are irresponsible, and re main unpunished. The man who would bring a pestilence in our midst, the one who would throw a destroying or fiery combustible in our streets would be immediately arrested and,punished, while 4hes® men are Biniled upon and petted and exalted in many ways. A mercenary spirit controls the publication of their works ; the chief glory of the book is its rapid sale ; money the first consideration, honor arid notoriety the other, and then they Care not what results will follow. The con sideration is, not what the people ought to have, but what will they buy? Those men make this work their means of living; bnt how different is it from the other professions! The physician does not cure the patient for the fee alone,-but given him the benefit of his skill and study; the lawyer—above the pettifogger—de fends his client by his superior knowledge of the law, and'protects and defends his life and property by that knowledge ; and the teacher devotes himself and his information to the training of the mind and the future welfare of society. In letters it should be the same, aud the glory should be to teach well and guide'the public mind in the right way ; ’but at present it is controlled by a selfish and calculating spirit, where certain minds are ever ready to sell all their thoughts for whatever suits the market. This literature has. assumed four forms—un belief, sentimentalism, sensation and sensuality, all of which, though different from each other, belqug to the same tree and act together in sympathy against religion and morality. They i can be all found nicely arranged and mixed up with each other, forming snug volumes ill the library of almost every bookseller, on the stalls and tables in the streets, and invariably in the hands of very skilful venders, and one can easily discover Renan’s “Life of Jesus,” surrounded by romances, books of adventures and stoeies of. the war. This sentimentalism praises an un tloelrinal religion—that it is no matter what you believe so you adhere to sincerity; but times are good or bad according as they turn out; that sin is an accident and a crime—a thing for tears and sympathy rather than the prison and the scaffold tells you that the Christ that has been is only the prophecy of the Christ that will be, and, further, lliai the religion of Jesus Iras failed to benefit the laboring poor and must give way to one that will do more good for social comforts; and such ideas as the above are what I have read jn a popular monthly magazine that I j «een ou the drawing rboin tayles and in the ii | braries of respectable families, where there are j growing up young boys and girls whose minds ; are likely to be influenced bv such .poisonous ; and crafty doctrines. The sentimental class ol ! this hind of writing is still more dangeVons>s everything is glossed over in a most fascinating manner. It points out tho road, but it is the road without the thorns. It shows in a very nice form, but the fault is it has very little resemblance to reality and produces a sen timental feverishness very’ injurious to the mind. The reverend gentleman, after very severely reviewing this class of letters, pro ceeded to review the sensation and sensual class of literature, which he considered both disgusting and revolting, and of a kind that would be thrown out of doors in the time of Charles Hie Second. Iu them are given detail ed histories of bigamists, duelists, nineteenth eentury ruffians, robbers of the fiercest order, nm! coquettes of every style, and endless col umns arc filled with a filth that ought to be • banned and condemned by all decent minded men. In some are cuts reprcpcnting the commission of all kinds of crime, and still they are givtm with a concealment and a coloring and thefr authors tell us the intention is to make vie«i odious and to exalt virtue. But such is not the case ; their intentions are the oppo sile, and flkeir acts prove it. Dr ; Littlejohn tlu n by calling on the pastors of the different churches throughout the States to raise their voice against this iniquity, and'cau lion parents to keep strict watch over the books and periodicals wliicb may fall fnto their children’s hands, aud wnich they may be so in clined to read on account of the stealthy man ner in which they are placed before them. Consecration oft a Bishop.— A large con gregation filled the handsome interior ofTrinity chapel Friday forenoon, to witness the inter esting and impressive proceeding attendant upon the consecration fij a bishop. Tin? Rev. Dr. Neely, Bishop elect of Maine, who has been for some time officiating as one of tbe ministers of Trinity chapel, was the recipient on the oc casion of this distinguishing mark of ecclesias tical preferment. The ceremonies began at h*lf-pnst ten o’clock by the reading of tho first Psalm, by Dr. Higbce. Drs. Weston, Vinton and Haight read respect ively, in succession, the first ami second lessons and the creed. Bishop Randall read the epistle and Dr. Higbee read the antbfcm, after which Bishop Potter ascended the pulpit and delivered an enrntest and eloquent discourse on tbe posi tion held by the Episcopal Church. He took for his text the filth chapter of Matthew and fourteenth verse: “Ye are tbe light of the world, and proceeded'to-show the via media position, between Romanism on tbe one band and ultra Protestantism!on tbe other, which the High chnrch partv assumed. He considered they were grossly tniarepresented by reason of boldin g this middle an object in the line of- perspective they ap peared to-the party at one end very near the other, and vice versa. lie wound op by an elo quent disclamation against the extravagance oi ritualism and the cold dogmatist of Puritau isra. At the termination of hik sermon the' bishop addressed himself in torfehing language to the bishop elect on the dutie* he was about to assume, after which the eefemony o' conse cration was performed with n&ch solemnity. Benediction followed, and a selection of hymns were chanted by the choir and congrega tion With beautiful effect. The ulpria in Exeel sis and the Recessional from the Trinity Psalter closed the ceremony of the dky. Among those prominent in the choir of bishops were Bishops Hopkins,Clarkson, Coxe, I otter, \Y tlliams, Payne and Randall. \New 1 York IlerqM, 28th. Difficulty of* Uollilctinq toe Tax on Whisky.— lt to collect the Government tax on whisky under the present law, until it is suggested to abolish the detec tive force and inspectors of distilleries, and to. tax the distiller on the running capacity of the still, the ambunt of tax to remain as it is. The rnnninjf Capacity of the still to be determined by the assessor and collector of the district.— Thjnfaw is imperfect, inasmuch as the inapect jjjilris now paid by the distiller and not by the Government.
