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tnarkedoni ourijr progress; but the uului observer is
neither startled by the unfaithful picture and boding
augury of the American divine* r.or alarmed by the
prophetic aspirations of Ins British reviewer. \> e flatly
deny the justice of imputing the excesses of city mobs,or
the depravity of border men, to the great body of the
people. And we confidently assert that notwithstand
ing the military despotism and rigorous laws of other
nations, and the comparative impunity of rio*ers in this
country, there is scarcely ft nation in Lurope in
which there is not more bloodshed and outrage by
irregular action of the populace in one year, than there
has been in the United States since the declaration of
American Independence. We advance a step farther,
and question whether in the whole current of history
from the institution of governments, to the present day,
there has be*’ n a people of equal extent of territory and
of equal population, whose annals, with the exception
o('\,e burning and sacking of the convent in Massa
chusetts, have been stained with as little popular out
rage. It would seem then, that Dr. Channing is mis
taken in the apprehension or the desire for a “stroTiger
government;" and that his tory reviewer should have
attributed, not oursupposed unparalleled depravity, but
•our unexampled purity of national character, our un
precedented growth and prosperity, to the ennobling
influence of republican institutions.
The language of Miss Marineau was thought suffi
ciently unjust and extravagant, when she charged the
couth with having purchased Florida, because it was a
refuge for their slaves; but the native divine, as if to
show the extent of the privilege of speech in a free
country, has accused the same vilified people of seek
ing the admission of Texa i into the Union as a market
for slaves which they breed for the purpose, and as a
means of unjustly extinguishing the claim of Mexico,
to lands for which they have purchased scrip from the
Texan government. We have already said that we
had no concern with the Texan controversy. But sup
posing the accusation of Dr. Channing to be strictly
true, have we no cause to complain of his exclusive
kindness and sympathy for the Indian, the negro, the
Mexican and the Spaniard, and his deep and solemn
denunciations of his Anglo-Saxon countrymen ? His
benevolent heart overflow's with tenderness for the
stranger and the savage, and seems to be sealed against
the white man. His charity appears to w'ater abun
dantly the sandy desert and the remote wilderness, but
it stagnates into a pool of bitterness at the approach of
his fellow-citizens. Are the w'aters of refreshment still
reserved for Lahmael, the son of Hagar, the dweller in
tents and the robber of the desert, whose hand is against
other men to the end of time? Why not imitate the
pervading love of his Master, and when his affections
arc thrown abroad upon the ocean of life, let the circle
which they form, continue te extend its waving ripple
until it is swallowed up in its immensity ? He is so
wholly engrossed with the real and imaginary' wrongs
of the dark and the red man, that he is insensible to the
■virtues of the whites. Did not the slaughter of the
Alamo, exact retributive justice? Was there no gal
lantry displayed in the action of San Jacinto ? Were
no laurels purchased in the defeat—no magnanimity
displayed in the treatment of the ruthless Santa Anna ?
The Mexican hordes led on by this bad man, waged a
war of extermination; their hands were red with the
sign of death with which the compatriots in arms of the
Texans bad been sealed; yet they were treated with
kindness and mercy.
(Concluded in our next.)
HERSCHELL, THE ASTRONOMER.
Our readers are already aware that a public
tJinner was recently given to Sir John F. VV.
Hersehell, on his return from the Cape of
Good Hope, where he had been residing for
three or tour years. He was received with
great enthusiasm by his countrymen, and de
servedly so, inasmuch as he has probably con
tributed as largely to the advancement of hu
man science, as any individual alive.
The dinner alluded to, took place under the
auspices of the Royal Society, and many of
the most distinguished and scientific men of the
day were present, and among other Ameri
cans, the intelligent London correspondent of
the Massachusetts Spy. He has furnished a
highly interesting account of the whole affair.
Hersehell was toasted, and in reply, addressed
the assemblage for nearly half an hour, in a
low, tremulous and faltering voice.
He remarked “ that the circumstances un
der which he was placed, by the distinguished
honor that had been paid him, were such as
quite to overpower him, and prevent him from
saying a single word,” He threw himself up
on the good nature and feelings of the assem
bly—he felt that justice had not been done
him, because eulogiums had been passed upon
him—he had not expected such testimonies of
respect nor such honors—he knew not why
he should meet with such a reception, since he
had encountered no danger, endured no pri
vation, except those of being separated from
his family—he could not tell why such honors
were conferred on him in preference to many
others. “ What,” said he, “ have been my
labors, compared with those of the zoologist,
who buries himself in the pestilential swamps
or exposes himself to the burning sun, for the
advancement of science ? Illustrious as this
assembly is, both in rank and talent, I feel a
shamed that the poor object of its respect
should be rpyself. ” He proceeded by saying
that there was a higher object of the meeting
than that of honoring hm? —it was anew era
of science—it was one which placed the scien
tific men before the country, a;?d saying to
them, that if they struggled in the advance
ment of science, their country would not be
forgetful of them. He referred to his lan.ors,
while at the Cape—said that there is scarcely
a spot of that part of the heavens, invisible in
Europe, that he had not carefully examined
twice during his absence—hardly a southern
constellation which had been either celebrated
in prose, song or poetry, or noted in history,
which he had not exactly viewed ; and sorry
was he to say, that he found much necessity
for radical reform. He thanked the Duke of
Sussex for his kindness to “ so humble an in
dividual” as himself, and in answer to the fact
previously mentioned by the Duke, that he
(Hersehell) had refused the proffered pecuni
ary assistance of Government and individuals
in his expedition to the Cape, remarked that
he should as soon think of intercepting the
dew from the heavens, as of receiving those
funds from Government which ought to be
expended in the scientific societies. He thank
ed the meeting for the honors conferred on
him that day, declaring, that if ever he were
disposed to linger on the road of science, the
remembrance of this would inspire him and
give him new vigor to recommence his labors.
He concluded by acknowledging his gratitude
for the Vase just received, saying that he trust
ed it would go as an heir loom to his chil Iren’s
children, inspiriting them, as it would inspirit
him, to prove, by their exertions, that they, as
well as he, were grateful for the unmerited
honors conferred upon him that day.
THE VOW.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.
in the ancient heathen times of the Saxons,
there happened once a great war with the
Danes. Adalbero, Duke of Saxony, who had
counselled it, now', in the hour of earnest con
flict, stood at the head of his people. There
flew the arrows and the javelins; there glanced
many valiant blades on both sides ; and there
shone many bright gold shields through the
dark fight. But the S xons, at every attack,
were repulsed, and were already so fur driven
back, that the storming of a steep height could
deliver the army and the country,disperse the
enemy, and change a ruinous and destructive
fight into a decisive victory.
Adelbero conducted the attack. But in vain
he forced his fiery charger before the squadron,
in vain he shouted through the field the sacred
words, “ Freedom and Fatherland!” in vain
streamed his warm blood, and the blood of the
foe, over his resplendent armor. The ponder
ous mass gave way ; and the enemy, secure on
the height, rejoiced in their decided victory.
Again rushed Adelbero on with a few gallant
warriors ; again the faint hearted fell behind ;
and then the enemy rejoiced.
“It is yet time,” said Adalbero; and again he
shouted “Forward ! and if we conquer, I vow
to the gods to set fire to the four corners of my
castle, and it shall blaze forth on a br ht fu
neral pile, in honor of our victory and of our
deliverance.”
Again was the attack renewed, but again the
Saxons fled—and the enemy sent forth shouts
of joy.
Then cried Adalbfero aloud before the whole
army. “If we return victorious from this
charge, ye gods, I devote myself to you as a
solemn sacrifice!”
Shuddering, the warriors hastened after
him ; but fortune was still against them ; the
boldest fell, the bravest fled. Then Adelbero,
in deep affliction, rallied the scattered band,
and all that remained of the great nobles col
lected round him, and spoke thus :
“ Thou art our ruin, for thou hast counsel
led this war.”
Adalbero replied, “ My castle and myself I
have devoted to the gods lor victory, and what
can I more!”
The sad multitude called only ths more to
him, “ Thou art our ruin ; for thou hast coun
selled this war.”
Then Adalbero tore open bis bosom, and
implored the Mighty God of Thunder to pierce
him with a thunderbolt, or to gain the victory
to his army. But there came no bolt from
Heaven, and the squadron stood timid, and fol
lowed not the call.
In boundless despair, Adalbero at last said,
“There remains only that which is most dear
to me. Wife and child I offer to thee, thou
God of armies, for victory. My beautiful
blooming wife, my only heart-loved child, they
belong to the Great Iluler in Asgard; with
my own hand will I sacrifice them all to thee,
but I implore thee, give me the victory!”
Scarcely were these words uttered, when
fearful thundering rolled over the field ofbattle
and clouds gathered round the combatants ;
and the Saxons, with fearful cries, shouted,
with one voice, “ The gods are with us !”
With invincible courage, forwaid rushed the
hosts ; the height was carried by storm, and
Adalbero, with a sudden shudder, saw the ene
my flying through the field.
The conqueror returned home in triumph ;
and in all parts of delivered Saxony, came
wives and children forth, and, with outstretch
ed arms g 'eeted their husbands and fathers.—
But Adelbero knew what awaited him, and ev
ery smile of an affectionate wife, pierced, as
with a poisoned dart, his anguished heart. At
last they came before his magnificent castle.
He was not able to look up, as the beautiful
Similde met him at the gate, with her daughter
in her hand, while the one always leaped and
cried, “Father! Father! beloved Father!”
Adelbero looked round on his people, in or
der to strengthen himself; even there he met
quivering eyelids and bitter tears, for among
his warriors, many had heard his horrid vow.
IJe dismissed them to their families, feeling
what happy men, he, the most unhappy, was
sending to their homes ; then rode into the cas
tle, and sending the domestics away under va
rious pretences, sprung from his horse, closed
the gates with thundering sound, securing them
carefully, and pressed his beloved wife and
child to his heart, shedding over them a torrent
of tears.
“ What is the matter, husband ?” said the
astonished Similde.
“ Why do you weep, father ?” stammered
the little one.
“We will first prepare an offering to the
Gods,” replied Adelbero, “and then I shall
relate every thing to you. Come to me soon
to the hearth.”
“ I will kindle the flame, and fetch, in the
mea l time, the implements for sacrifice,” said
sweet Similde ; and the little one cried out,
clapping her hands,
“ I also will help, I also will be there,” and
skipped away with her mother.
These W'ords, “ I also will help—l also will
be there,” the hero repeated, as, dissolved in
grief, he stood by the flaming pile, with his
d,.awn sword in his trembling hand. He 1 1-
mente'd aloud over the joyful, innocent child,
and the graceful, obedient wife, who brought
the bowl and pitcher, perfuming pan and taper,
used in sacrifices. Then it passed through
his mind that his vow could not be valid, ier
such sorrow could not n.'id a place in the heart
of man. answer was given in dread
ful peals of thunder down f ;om the heavens.
“ I know,” said he, sighing heavily, “ your
thunder has assisted us and now your thunder
calls on your devoted believer for the perfor
mance of his vow.”
Similde began to tremble as the frightful
truth burst upon her, and with soft tears, she
said, “Ah! hast thou made a vow? Ah!
husband, I see no victim! Shall human blood
M
Adelbero covered his eyes with his hands,
and sobbed so terribly that it echoed through
the hall, and the little one, terrified, shrunk to
gether.
Similde knew well such vows in ancient
times. She looked entreatingly to her lord,
and said, “ Remove the child.”
“ Both, both ! I must!” then murmured Ad
albero ; and Similde, with a violent effort, for
-1 cing back her tears, said to the little one,
* “Quick, child, and bind this handkerchief on
thine eyes, thy fit her has brought a present
lor thee, and will now give it thee.”
“My father iooks not as if he would gi\e
me a present,” sighed the child.
“ Thou shalt see: thou shalt .sec presently,”
said Similde hurriedly; and as she placed the
bandage over the eyes of the child, she could
no longer restrain her tears ; but they fell so
softly that the little one knew it not.
The affectionate mother now tore the drap
ery from her snow white bosom, and kneeling
before her sacrificer, beckoned that she might
be the first victim.
“ Quick —only quick,” whispered she soft
ly to the lingerer, “ else will the poor child be
so terrified !”
Aldabero raised the dreadful steel—then
roared the thunder and flashed the lightning
through the building. Speechless sank the
three to the earth.
As the evening breeze rushed through the
broken windows, the little one raised her head,
from which the bandage had fallen and said,
“ Mother, what present has my father brought
to me ?” The sweet voice awakened both
parents. All lived,and nothing was destroyed
but Adalbero’s sword which was melted by
the avenging flash of Heaven.
“ The Gods have spoken,” cried the par
doned father, and with a gush of unutterable
love, the three delivered ones wept in each oth
er’s arms.
bar distant, over the southern mountains,
roared the tempest, where many years after
wards St. Bonifaco converted unbelievers to
the true faith,
PEItE-LA-CHAISE.
Pcre-la-Chaise, the Elysium of the dead, the
“ grave of Fiance !” how Fancy loves to flut
ter like a golden-winged bird among its flow
ers and funeral trees, far from the city’s broil
and contamination. Upon this Death’s umbra
geous shore, the noise of its restless billows is
stilled to a Summer softness, and expires in me
lody. Here the stern Tyrant of Morality puts
on the form of a pale mother, yearning for her
absent and weary children, and invites them to
her bosom to cradle them to everlasting re
pose—with a smile like the golden light of an
Autumn twilight—her sad brow wreathed with
olive leaves, LPd her long flowing hair beaming
with the Iris of Hope !
Yesterday, in a morning ramble through its
mossy retreats, I met with a lovely tomb in a
far retired corner, which seemed shrined in all
the freshness of modern poesy, and sculptured
with Grecian elegance. It consisted of mere
ly a pedestal of white marble, on which was
seated the delicate form of Silence, with fore
finger on her lips, and a wreath of poppies ar
ound her brow, and at her feet were negligent
ly traced these words, “ Hush, she but sleeps,”
while on the front of the pedestal were engra
ven in letters of gold—
“ Here lies Louise, aged 15 years.
All that of love could die, lies buried here /”
The light shadows of the aspen leaves quiv
ered over the sunny abode, and a beautiful ear
ly butterfly sipped the odorous dews of some
violets disposed in the form of a cross over hal
lowed sleep. I felt tempted to apply to her
untimely fate the tender lines of my own
Wordsworth:
“ Thou soul of God’s best earthly mould—
Thou happy soul !—and can it be
That these few letters traced in gold
Are all that must remain of thee !”
But then a French tomb-stone lies so often ;
yet let me believe otherwise in this instance,
in order that Fancy’s feet may find a resting
place on earth !
Sonnet by Caider Campbell,
POETRV.
“ Where find ye Poetry ?”—Go look abroad
Far forth and meet it in each blade of grass,
In every bell of dew that, on the sod
Makes for the butterflies a looking-glass ;
In every sunbeam, and in every shade,
In the stream’s murmur, and the wild bird’s song ;
In merry cricket's chirp the weed’s among,
In sunny meadow, and in gloomy glade !
“ Where find ye Poetry ? ’ —The fertile earth
Is one fair volume, filled with thoughts sublime ;
And he who worships Nature, and looks forth
With pondering spirit on the course of time,
Shall in each page find sweetest poetry—
Religion, Beauty, Truth, Sublimity !”
INSTINCT OF ANIMALS.
The following is from anew work on nat
ural history, published in England :
Travelling Cats. —A lady residing in Glas
gow had a handsome cat sent to her from Ed
inburgh ; it was conveyed to her in a close
basket, and in a carriage. She was carefully ;
watched for two months ; but ha\ ing pro- !
duced a pair of young ones at the end of that
time, she was left at her own discretion, which i
she very soon employed in disappearing with i
both kittens. The lady at Glasgow wrote to
her friend in Edinburgh deploring her loss, |
and the cat was supposed to have formed some !
new attachment, with as little reflection as men !
and women sometimes do. About a fortnight, ;
however, after her disappearance at Glasgow, j
her well known mew was heard at the street j
door of her old mistress, and there she was, J
with both her kittens : they in the Lest state, ;
but she very thin. It is clear that she could I
carry only one kitten at a time. The distance
from Glasgow to Edinburgh is forty miles, so
that if she brought one kitten part of the way,
and then went back for the other, and thus
conveyed them alternately, she must have tra
veiled one hunched and twenty miles at least.
Her prudence must likewise have suggested
the necessity of journeying in the night, with
many other precautions, for the safety of her
young. ________
loafer’s soliloquy.
In the shade of this tree I am for the present
a leetle past comfortable. If a body needn’t
get up and change round to keep out of the
sun I would never give a shin-plaster bit to be
rich. If it want for the clothes and eating 1
don’t see the use of gold or paper currency.
Every body’s asked to drink as often as lie is
dry, and more times than lie needs it—partic
ularly about ’lection times. 1 keeps a stick
ttnd tally down the whig and democrat drinks
I done tuck—but I think the schoolmaster
what ciphered ’em up cheated me to all ruin.
I’ll vole t’other side next time just to show niv
independence, and keep up the right of uni- j
vcrsal suJTcnngs.
Commercial Correspondence.
. . ~~~ m
JCT To the exclusion of aquantity of very interesting
miscellaneous matter, we close the publication of the
following important correspondence, which was com
menced in our last—on the subject of Direct Importa
tions:
Charleston, June 13.
My Dear Sir—l hasten to return you the
important documents you confided to nte last
evening, which I have just read, with the in
terest they could not fail to excite even in a
looker on, uninfluenced as you are by the
laudable activity this undertaking so justly
merits.
It strikes me that your London correspon
dent, (with whom I have the pleasure of a
personal acquaintance,) does not, sufficiently,
appreciate the important position we hold,with
respect to Europe, nor is he probably aware
of the rapid strides we are now making to
wards a deveiopement of our great and grow
ing resources. The established system of ex
changes between Europe and America,having
so long centered and diverged at New York,
and at London, the great houses at these im
portant points are too deeply interested for
them to view with interest any proposition of
this kind—but the patriot is aware that the
world is now too enlightened for any intelli
gent section of it, particularly one so exten-
I sive and richly endowed as ours to have its
1 energy and interests usurped, tramelled and
j controlled by others. What an important
! epoch this really is, in the deveiopement ofour
capabilities and resources—and how much of
; the world’s national happiness and social com
j fort is dependant on our productions. With,
j out them, England’s prosperity and domestic
! peace would soon be on the wane—without
! our cotton her manufactories would be at a
j stand, and her operatives relapse from industry
to penury, with starvation staring themselves
and their children in the face—then let us not
listen to the vain and vacant assertion that “the
cotton of Egypt and of India can compete with
us” or cause any material diminution in the
value of produce of our incomparable staple.
Equally false, and as absurb as it abounds in
ignorance of the real state of things, in the old
tale of East India rice driving ours out of the
European market. And, yet, I have seen in
the Pliillipine Islands in Java, and in other
parts of India, and Southern Asia, excellent
rice selling for fifty cents the 100 lbs. Then
how is it that these agricultural productions
cannot, successfully, compete with us in Eu
rope ? or they undersell us at home ? Because
like those who have assumed our carrying
trade, they are too distant—because, like us
their intercourse with foreign countries is con
trouled—they suffer under a want of commer
cial facilities, under which difficulties we have
also been laboring and we are now desirous of
relieving ourselves. And, with regard to our
proposed direct trade wtth Europe, this pro
posed intercharge of productions for fabrics,
so obviously advantageous to all directly inter
ested, will, at the same time, elicit any thing
but the approbation of any of those eminent
financial houses as those, which have been for
such a length of time identified to the extent
of controlling the rates and routine of exchange
between Europe and America; and as the ob
ject and plan is that no distant city, as a third
party, is to “ do our business” for us, the suc
cess of this much to be desired state of tilings
can, I think, be only consummated by bringing
the two great interests in immediate contact,
by making a commencement on a sufficient
scale to test its merits, and try its success, by
the lormation of one, or more, limited partner
ships, each, if desirable, comprising several,
or even many individuals, being respectively,
pledged in certain amounts, or furnishing, if
they please, 60 much in raw material for the
European market—and as was done individu- j
ally, with success, last summer, and as we ;
and frequently witnessed on a small scale, let
ai intelligent and ex icrienced agent, from our
city, accompany the cotton, and on his arrival
in Euro ie, as far as the local usages of trade
will admit, let him have a direct personal in
tercourse and a mutual understanding with the j
manufacturers, explaining our object, and its j
mutual advantages—urging their interest, and j
calling for their concurrence and participation
in this patriotic and important undertaking.—
Let this agent convert and invest the process
in what the planter and southern citizen, on a
large scale, are in want of. Let us devote
whatever we have to spare in this enterprise,
and pledge ourselves to purchase only what
has come to us through this legitimate source.
We then will see the refuse of northern stores
and the uncertain and defective supplies de
tained through irresponsible auction sales at
the North sinking to their proper level a
mongst us.
Believe me, my dear sir, yours, most re
spectfully,
CHAS. J. MANIGAULT.
To Cjl. A. P. Hayne, &c.
Charleston, July 3, 1838.
My Dear Sir—ln acknowledging the re
ceipt of your regarded communication accom
panying your circular on the subject of re
storing to your native State, that Foreign di
rect trade, which she many years ago enjoyed,
and to which by geographical position and her
valuable agricultural products for the Southern
States generally, a just participation with some
of their sister states on the Atlantic to the trade
now al nost exclusively enjoyed by them. I
cannot help bestowing my unqualified appro
bation, on the zealous and untiring efforts made
by you, and being made, to accomplish this
more desirable object and which can only ef
fectually be attained by united and energetic
concert of act on, and harmony of feeling on
the part of the states interested ; and I have
no means so well calculated to effect their ob
jects, as the frequent free interchance of opin
ions and feelings of the Representatives of the
States interested, in the manner pursued at the
late Commercial Convention held at Augusta,
and which ought to be followed up, until the
impetus there given be perfected into positive
action, which from present appearances, will,
I have no doubt, be sooner accomplished than
we are aware of, and towards which as re
gards ourselves, we are, I think, in a very pro. j
gressive state. The late act of our own Le- !
gislature, permitting limited copartnerships I j
consider one important step in this grand work, i
and this measure aided and helped by Banking !
j institutions, establishing credits in Europe,
through which they in turn ran furnish credits
, there, to individual enterprise, will, I have no
doubt, accomplish as much of what we desire
in this way as any other means we can adopt.
And to your zealous and persevering efforts
in this good cause, whatever advantages may
be derived, we shall be mainly indebted,
j With sentiments of great regard, l am, dear
i sir, yours truly,
CHS. EDMONSTON.
To Col. A. P. llayne.
Charleston, July 2,1838.
Sir—Conscious that I can add very little
valuable information to the communications
I you will desire from sources better qualified, I
will, however, in compliance to your request,
j cheerfully impart such observations as a resi
| deuce ot fifty years in Charleston has enabled
i me to make.
i At the close of the Revolutionary war, tho
Southern States that had borne an awful share
of its ravages and calamities, found themselves
bare ol the most indispensible commodities of
‘ life, and what is worse, of the means of pro
curing them. The English commerce, well
apprised of the territorial resources of that
portion of their former dominions, tendered its
capital and credit, and thereby secured the
trade, which became almost exclusively Eng
lish, and continued to be so, until some time
after the adoption of the Federal Constitution.
Then the assumption of the revolutionary debts
—the creation of a National Bank and the re
venues of the customs, concentrating the pub.
blic fortune at the seat of the General Govern
ment, gave the Northern States an immense
j advantage over the Southern. These power
i ful means placed within the reach of the for.
mer, gave a spirit to their native industry and
enterprize—they created an extensive shipping,
which, during the long political convulsions of
Europe, made them the factors and carriers of
the productions of the whole world. The peace
of Europe, and our short quarrel with England
gave anew direction to the immense profits
accumulated, and seemed during twenty years
of uninterrupted prosperity, those capitals that
could no longer be used as profitably as hereto
fore, could not, however, remain inactive.
Manufactures of all kinds sprung up, which
being fostered by a protective system, equal iu
its effects nearly to a prohibition or monopoly,
made the Southern States entirely agricultur
ist, tributary to the Northern, inasmuch as it
destroyed competition.
The Southern States, somewhat similar to a
rich landlord, who leaves the management of
his estate to a cunning steward, and perceives,
but too late, that this steward has become rich
enough at his expense, to buy him out, began
to complain that the commodities they wanted
came charged with heavy duties, profits,
freights and commissions, thereby paying a
tribute contrary to the object and intent of the
Union.
Why, Sir. should we continue to pay that
tribute ? Why should we not import from the
cheapest markets the articles we want ? Our
forests are full of the best materials requisite
for the building of ships, and our pecuniary
resources, based on ever growing valuable sta
ples, adequate to a direct intercourse w ith alt
the world. The philosopher of Genet a defin
ed the freest man, him who did not require to
add to his arms the army of another. This de
finition is applicable to States as to individuals.
Let us, then, go unanimously and simultane
ously to work ; not with a spirit of jealousy of
the prosperity of others, but of that rational
ambition of securing to ourselves that portion
which both naturally and politically we are
entitled to.
Regretting of not being able to offer you any
thing better, I am, respectfully, your obd’t.
servant, R. GODARD.
Colonel A. I*. Hayne.
Charleston, July 6, 1838.
To Col. Arthur I*. Hayne :
My Dear Sir—l have perused with a great
deal of pleasure your Circular Letter of the Ist
of May last, as Chairman of the Committee of
Correspondence appointed by the Convention
at Augusta, and, also, your letter of Ist May,
with the accompanying Documents, for all of
which you will be good enough to accept my
bes: thanks. It would indeed be gratifying to
me, if I could contribute any ray of light to
wards illustrating the public mind upon this
great topic, but I am quite reconciled to my
inability to do so, by the cheering reflection,
that so many and such great minds are con
centrating upon it the full flood of their intelli
gence. To you, however, my dear sir, I can
have no objections to express my hopes of suc
cess. 1 believe that we shall succeed in mak
ing Charleston a great emporium, and exten
sive mart of foreign merchandize. I believe
that our citizens are bent upon trying it, and
that their intelligence, enterprize and industry,
are equal to the great achievement.
The obstacles, however, are neither few nor
trifling, and, I confess with candor that I am
sometimes appalled at the magnitude of the
burthen which the South must carry in her
race against the North and East—l allude to
the mode of raising and distributing the federal
revenue. The South pays all the taxes of the
General Government—the North and East
receive all its patronage. There is no sophis
try that can disguise the withering influence
of this policy. Every dollar of revenue deriv
ed from duties upon imports makes a clear
difference of two dollars in behalf of that fa
vored region which lies Nort l of the Potomac.
Can w e prosper and succeed in spirit of this
system ? I hope that we shall—but we have
much to do. The master minds engaged in
the great enterprize, have not failed to perceive
the importance of a clear connection with the
Far West —this is indispensable to our suc
cess. Our Rail Roads must penetrate that
populous and flourishing region and bring to
our doors her millions of consumers. With
customers for our goods, there can be no dif
ficulty in effecting direct importations. We
shall require more capital, but I believe this
can be commanded. We must shorten the dis
tance between Liverpool and Charleston, and
increase the intimacy between her merchants
and ours. Mercantile Houses in Charleston
should establish branches in England,and For
eign Houses should be encouraged to try our
market with the manufactures suited to the
wants of our people. If goods arc scarce, and
eonsumpt on treading close upon tho heels of