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Prom the Trenton Emporium TIIE IIAI’PY MATCH. BY STACY O. POTT. ‘Now,’ said Harry Hemphill to his young wife, when he went to house keeping, ‘it’s my business to bring money into the house, and our’s to see that none goes out of it.’ This vas the agreement with .which they set for .vard in the world. lie chose her, first be cause he loved her, and in the second place, because he knew -shewas sensible, economi cal, and industrious—just the reason which should influence every sensible man in bis •hoicc now. And he - thought it best that each should have a distinct sphere of action. Their interests were one and indivisible r consequently each had the same motives to ct Well the allotted part. His business call, and for his whole he wished therefore to pursue it undistracted by other cares.— For himself he looked for happiness only at home ; there he expected a supply for all his wants, and he was of course not disposed to spend any thing abroad, in pursuit of what he thought every reasonable man ought to enjoy in the bosom of his own family. Her duties, being all domestic, she was able to compass them the better by turning her attention to them. Her husband’s business doing habits, his temperate and correct- life, had all the power of example—increasing her esteem, and doubling her anxiety to deserve his. They had married without waiting to get rich. They neither distrusted Providence nor each other. With little besides health, and a disposition to improve it,they had never theless a strong confidence of final success, winch prudent resolutions inspire in those who feel that they have perseverance enough to adhere to them. Thus they began the world. To attach a man to his home, it is neces sary that home should have attractions. Harry Hemphill’s had. There he sought repose af ter tiie toil and weariness of the day ; and there he found it. When perplexed and low spirited, lie retired thither, and amid the soo thing influence of its quiet and peaceful shades, he forgot the heartlessness of the world, and all the wrongs of men. When things went ill with him, he found always a solace in the sunshine of affection, that in the domestic circle beamed upon him, and chased every cloud from its brow- However others treated htm, there was always kindness, con fidence and esteem. If others deceived him, and hypocrisy with its shameless face smiled on him to delude and injure him, there was ail sincerity—that sincerity of the heart, which makes amends for suffering, and wins the troubled spirit from misanthropy. Nothing so directly tends to make a w ife a good housekeeper, a good domestic econom ist, as that kindness on the part of the bus band which speaks the language of approba tion, and that careful and well directed indus try which thrives and gives strong promise that her care and prudence will have a profita ble issue. And Mary Hemphill had this tok en and this assurance. Harry devoted himself to business \vith eady purpose and untiring zeal. He obtain ed Credit by his plain and honest dealing; custom by his faithful punctuality At constant care ; friends by his obliging deportment and accommodating disposition. He gained the reputation of being the best workman in the village. None were ever deceived who trus ted to his work. He always drove his busi ness a little beforehand, for, he said, things go badly when the curt gets before the horse. I noticed diice a little incident which illus trated his Character. A . thrifty old farmer was accosted in the road, at the end of the village, by a youngster who was making a great-dash irt business, arid who wanted to t&an a few hundred dollars. The wilv old man was peffectly ignorant where it could be had, and sided oil’ from him as soon as be could. lie rode directly down to Hemphill's and told him he had a sum of money to loan, and if he would take it; the payments should be made easy—just would suit him. Indeed, replied Harry, you have come to a bad mark et; —I have a little cash to spare myself; and Lave been looking round these two weeks for a good opportunity of putting it out. While Harr/ was prospering in his busi ness, and went like clockwork at home.— The family expenditures were carefully made: not a farthing was wasted, nor a scrap lost.— The furniture was all neat and useful rather than ornamental. The table plain, frugal, but wholesome and well spread. Little went either to the seamstress or the tailor. No extravagance in dress; no costly company keeping: no useless waste of time in too much visiting • and yet the whole neigh borhood praised Alary' Hemphill, and loved her. She was kind, without ostentation, soci able without being troublesome- And, while few people lived more comfor tably, none lived more economically- The results of such management can nev er disappoint the reasonable expectations of those who build upon them. Even the angry frown of misfortune is almost put at defiance. A vantage ground is soon gained which the storm seldom reaches; and a full reward comes in its proper turn?, to crown the meed of lives thus spent. The music of Harry’s tools was in full play on the morning that 1 left the village for a dis tant residence. It was not yet sunrise; and as the coach bore us by the cool and quiet re sideaccof he villager, I saw the door was open, and the breakfast smoking upon the ta ble- M;vry in her neat morning dress and white apron, blooming in beajth and loveli ness, was busy amid her household affairs and a ntranger, who chanced to he my fellow passenger to the city, observed it, said— “ There is a thriving family—my word for it.” And lie spoke well. There are certain signs perceptible about those who arc working tnings right, that cannot be mistaken by the most casual observer. On my re tutu to Aleslithy, many years af terwards, I noticed a beautiful country resi de nee on the banßs of the river, surrounded by all the elegance of wealth and taste.— JRichly,cultivated fields spread themselves out on every side, as far as the eye Could teach; flocks and herds were scattered in ev* <rv direction, ft Was a splendid scene—the eu •• • ' . l-i'-ttbij; behind the ’vesterr. hill ; THE MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULTURAL AND • MMCAYFILEJMMfcEKC'ER. and while a group of neatly dressed children sported on the adjacent school-house green, the mellow notes of the flute mingled with their noisy mirth. ‘-There,’said an old friend, ‘lives Harry Hemphill; that is his farm, these arc his cattle, here is his school-house, and these are his own, and some orphan children of-his adoption, whom he educate at his own expense. Having jeade a noble fortune by his industry’and prudence, he spends his large income in deeds of charity..; and he .and Mary mutually give each other the credit of doing all this.’ My heart expanded then—it expands still, when I think of them. And 1 pen this sim ple history, in the hope that, es it is entirely unit tide, somowho read itwill attempt to im itate it. RECOLLECTIONS OF AX Al.llT'Ji lt is unnecessary to relate the hist®rv of my birth and parentage. Suffice it to say, 1 was sent forth into the world long before the existence of the race of Annuals, and having boon furnished with a covering of morocco superbly embossed, and withall enveloped in gilt —though as my name imports, I could hardly he considered a child of depravity —I was exalted to an'honorable station on the shelves of a books- Her in Broadway, the envy and admiration of my less splendidly at tired companions. My handsome exterior soon attracted the attention of a young Ado nic, who purchased me at an extravagant price, as a present for his mistress. I was accord ingly taken to Ids room, and bathed in otto of ro.Aes,'to nullify a certain bookish odor ; I had imbibed from my companions at the book sellers. My pcsscssor now set himself at work to dedicate me to her for whom I was intended. I was placed upon his table, where, in ele gant confusion, lay the popular poets of the day, from, whose productions my master en deavored, but in vain, to extract something suitable for his purpose. He then had re course to his own ingenuity—again and again destroyed the sheet upon which it was writ ten. I seetn to behold him, as he then sat, with his elbows resting upon the table, look ing down upon my blank pages, as if they could impart inspiration to his brain. But, alack! what had I to offer? my experience in the world had been limited to a book-shop—- as yet, not a solitary line had been traced up on my leaves, which, like the poplar regions, presented- but one unvaried surface of white. Finding that his own wits, like small beer, were last evaporating, my master again resor ted to his favorite poets. Moore, and Bryon, and L. E. L. were respectively tumbled over, in order to purloin a dedication from their pages. One was at last found, and inscribed upon my front—l forget how it read, it'liav ing, a short time after, been torn out in a pet bymy mistress—but if 1 remember aright, it had more rhyme than reason, and had every change of which the language is capable, rung upon little word—Love. It was m consequence of this, I presume, that my new mistress, into whose hands I was now transferred, pronounced me a lovely creature ! Oh ! how 1 was caressed and admir ed by her, the first half hour alter We met, but at the expiration of that t'iinc, slie received a boquet from someone of her gallants, and I was taken no further notice of that day. 1 was now an inmate of her chamber, and for some weeks, repos and on her toilet, by the side of a certain red powder, which, I ob.serv ed, frequently raised a blush upon her check, when she viewed herself fh the glass. At first I flattered myself that these blushes were occasioned by her neglect of .myself, but a closer inspection convinced inn of my error. My mortification was then at its height, and 1 half wished 1 had never exchanged mv form er situation at the book-store, for one of such comparative insignificance. But 1 was now to change this scene of in glorious case and neglect, for one of honor and activity—to commence my circumnaviga tions round the fashionable world—to gain a know ledge of men and manners—and to gar ner up the fruits of nay experience. 1 was first placed in the hands of a young collegian, who, having no other means of recommend ing himself to my mistress, had promised to write something original in her album, and it was to fulfil this promise, that I was released from my confinement. The student, though a proficient in writing letters to belles, had but slight acquaintance with belles-lettres— he was a paragon at small-stalk—but waa lit tle accustomed to reducing his thoughts to writing. ‘ That,’ as I afterwards heard a sa tirical rival ol Ins say, “ would be a rcductio ad abturdttm”— but as the student did not understand the jest, he only smiled, as if a compliment had been paid his literary qualifi cations. The collegian, however, scrawled over a page or more, in .the following lacka daisical strain, which was prefaced with the jiamo of my mistress in good set capitals, in .this fashion. TO SERAPHIMA: Her look was lovelier than the lijjht Tlic April rose reveals, Ami strangely to my restless soul, In ceaseless visions steal; — But oh b ’tis not her beauty that Allures me to her feet, And bids my love bewildered heart, In wild emotion beat. The spell that fettered me for life, To her prunnello shoe, Was woven of the purity Her laughing dark eye threw ; I felt it irom the fleeting smile, That wreathed her lip of red— I heard it from the song she breathed— The sentiment she said. Then followed a dozen more stanzas ui the same strain, but 1 have no inclination to re pxiat them. I was shortly after sent on anew mission, to a boarding-school, from which my mistress had been lately emancipated, and h< r, young female friends were of course call ed upon to pay the customary tribute of af fection, by inscribing thbir respective memo rials on my pages. It would be wrong, per haps, to betray the Confidence of these young ladies to reveal the various remarks they made, touching the character of my mistress. \\ ell is it that an Album can tell no tales, be sides those that are written within it—t Ise, many a time, when war t prof .j o ;, s P f teem wc re inscribed on my pages, might I be ; called upon to declare die very different sen- 1 tiinents that have fallen from the lips of their writers, ere the iqk with which those profes sions were written, had grown dry. I should do injustice to one, however, were I to omit to record her sincerity—l mean the governess oi the school, whose affection for her pupils, was exceeded only liv that of theirs lor hcrsclt.— Her contribution to Albums was a good one, but like the [wavers of certain old fashioned preachers, it was the same on all occasions— the same in the Album of a giddy belle, or in that of a staid and modest maiden. It was drawn up in the form of a testimonial of es teem and friendship, and was filled with the best wishes of the good lady, for the vveltarc of her protege. I dare say that the same piece that was incribcd in that of my mistress, may be found in every Album that has gone forth from under her roof. After receiving a large contribution to my pages I was sent home, my covers somewhat soiled and my appearance diminished in con sequence of the abduction of those sheets up on which an unsuccessful attempt had been made to write. Of this my mistress took spe cial no ice, and when she again gave mo into the hands of another of her beaux, lie was ad monished not to commit such petit larceny upon her property. This gentleman was nom inally a lawyer’s clerk, but his principal oc cupation was that of gallanting the ladies. — Will Winkem—for that was his name—was familiarly called “ the ladies’ lawyer.” He knew far better how to frame a [ilea in Cu pid’s court than in a court of law ; and to do Will justice, he wrote an excellent hand and was never known to fie guilty of refusing to I w rite in an Album. Will had a happy tact lat his business—a sort of a know-all-women* by-these-prescnts-that-I-Will-Winkcm-am-a great flatterer, which made his productions eagerly sought after by all young ladies who keep Albums, as letters of recommendation, to be exhibited to their acquaintances. Will’s production—as it was considered a master piece in its way, and is a model from which a myriad of copies have been taken—l shall here transcribe entire, and leave the remain der of my histGry to be related on another oc casion. I.IXES OX AN ALIU'M. "What care I for the golden treasure, That giveth hut a bitter pleasure, That, woos the sense with luring light And captivates weal; fancy’s sight, That doth the outward vision win, But not the eye that sees within ? Vain bauble! ’tis enough to know Its worthlessness —that He, who first <i)id fashion it—despised it so As down to cast it'in the dust. What care 1 for sceptre’s power — Base vision of ambition’s hour! That robes the heart with gorgeous care, And makes a thousand terrors there ? What care I for the voice of glory, To breath qiy humble name in story ? For what is glory —what is fame — Dull repetition of a name? — Mere sound before and after death— But “fancied life in others breath.” Lady! the wealth to make me blest, Is locked within thy keyless breasfr; The fortune of my fondest dream, Is the pure gold of thy esteem; The jewels that alone 1 prize, Arc thy own bright unsullied eyes; And all that ambition seeks, Amid destuction’s sunny peaks, Is proudest of them all to find Dominion in thy ample mind ; To reign upon one little spot, By every one but thee forgot; And all I hope of mortal lame, Is, that my memory may claim A lay more prized than poet’s song—- The tribute of thy guileless tongue. And when I’m dead, lei nothing tell Of my unmarked receptacle ; Let no cospicuous pomp confer A mockery and sepulchre ; But when I from this life depart, Immure me in thy hallowed heart, And let tliis leaf be unto thee, The only monument of me; Thy pendent locks the only willow, To wave above my wakeless pillow, Thine eye the sun-beam falling on it, Thy tears the only flowers upon it. “Just as the twig is hint, the tree V inclined From the Philadelphia Courier. EDUCATION. The subject of education is, undoubtedly, one of deep importance. Upon the manner in which a child is nurtured and trained in early life, must in a great measure depend its iuturc character and happiness, for according as infant propensities are checked or indulg ed, will be the predominant feeling of after years. Pope’s couplet, though so trite as to be proverbial, is not the less distinguishable by lorce and appropriateness, since all expe rience teaches that “ ’Tis Education fnJtas the common mind, Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined.” Without enquiring into the truth or falsity of any of tlib metaphysical theories relative to the doctrine of ideas, it may safely be assert ed that the feelings which are created and cherished—the principles which are inculca ted, and the. habits which are formed in the first stages of existence, becomes so incorpo rated with the frame and texture of mind, that they exorcise a strong, decided, nay, par amount influence over all subsequent periods of life, and. of course, tend to the ultimate good or evil of the individual who is iheir subject. Train up a child in the trap he should go, is a sentiment which has lost none of its wisdomiiy its antiquity, for though ex ceptions may and do happen, the general rule is indisputable that, when he is old he trill not dc/xirt therefrom. A child who has been taught obedience to parents—kindness and good will to young companions—a prop er observance of tile decencies And decorums of social intercourse, and in whom the gentle affections have been carefully developed arid cultivated, will prove, in most instances, a v:i„• ’■ y.fiv't l**aadi*and efi and m r :rh' ~ '*f the community. So, on the contrary, where evil propensities have been suffered to grow up unchecked—where forwardness, petu lance, insubordination, and the other faults common to childhood, arc allowed to flourish without restraint, the future man or woman will usually he found rcsth ss, discontented, and unhappy, the prey and victim of those ma lignant passions which arc the fruitful sour ces of misery and crime. It may be said that no parent, however lax in discipline, permits a free indulgence to the vicious impulses to which we have referred. We know better —they who would make the objection, if they have any experience in the ' premises, know better. Many honest, vvcll j meaning people, who are painfully solicitous ! for the future welfare of their children—who | w ould shudder to anticipate for them any des j tiny unproductive of virtue and happiness, arc j vet so blinded by their attachments, that they ! cannot perceive a fault, or if it he too gross to ! escape observation, have ever ready a thou j sand excuses for the delinquent. Is a child rude, intractable or insolent ? Ilis rnisbehav ' iour is attributed to illness, and the fond mo* | tiler instead of bestowing proper chastisc | incut, hugs the dear creature to her bosom— I coaxes him into silence or submission, and even rewards him forliis perverseness. This method of treatment is common—we regret to say too common. We have seer, it prac | tised ov.-r and over again, and by those from j whom vve expected better things, and when vve have ventured to expostulate and point out the evils which must necessarily result; either the story of illness has been repeated and insisted on, or the eloquent glances of fe- I male indignation have compelled us to be si j lent. If they who thus suffer affection to us (urpthe place of judgment were to reflect on the consequences of their injudicious ness, ! they could not but feel alarm. If they could | foresee the train of evils likely to spring from their ill-advised indulgences:—the fretful ness and irritability—the forwardness and 1 disobedience of youth—the unhappy and de moralizing passions—the vicesand crimes of mature age, and, perhaps, the premature or ignominious death, which they are preparing for their heart’s idol, their Course would un doubtedly be changed. It is no less due to their offspring than to themselves, that the former should, be properly trained and disci plined. All parents have in this respect a sacred duty to perform—*-a heavy and fearful resposibility imposed on them. Parents sometimes wrongly imagine that they should wait until the mental powers arc to some extent developed, before they com mence the discipline necessary to the incul culalion of proper principles and habits. In the first davvnings of the intellect, they ought to perceive a call upon themselves for exertion —a call which should in no wise he neglec ted. Let them begin at once and in earnest, to give a proper bent to the opening faculties, and the result must be happy. The first les son a child ought to learn should be not mere ly to love, but likewise to yield in fear and reverence its parents. Not that slavish fear which is a kin to cowardice & the meaner pas sions; hut an unwillingness to offend or dis obey, mixed with a knowledge that punish ment must follow upon the commission of fault or folly. We are no advocates for corporal punish ment. Circumstances may sometimes occur to render this necessary, but in the main it is 1 useless and ineffective. The punishment we would have inflicted may be better accom p'ishod by other means—means which will suggest themselves to every reflecting mind. If the salutary state of regard in which ev ery parent should be estimated, be once in j stilled into a child, it will not he easy to sup- I plant or destroy it- It will be found controll ing all its acts—entering into all his feelings, and giving form and pressure to his entire conduct. Where this exists, the task of in struction will he easy and pleasant—the young pupil will be carried from stage to stage in the road of moral improvement, by paths alike agreeable to the instructor and in structed, and the parent will experience the happy consciousness that he is acting proper ly in the disgrace of a sacred obligation. But if instead of such a regulated attachment there exists on the part of the child, nothing more than the mere natural and instinctive ! impulse of affection, and the parent bestows' no care beyond the gratification of infantine cravings, the result must be widely different. The soil which under judicious management might have been made to produce an abund ant harvest,, will soon be overrun with tares, and whatever good may arise, will be so choked and embarrassed by its neighbouring weeds, that it will yield nothing to the reap er. In concluding this subject wc would strong ly urge the importance and necessity of a prompt —vigorous and effective system of dis ) cipline—■a system, which, while it establish* j es tiie power and authority of the parent, will infuse into the child sentiments of love, hon our, and respect—a system which will ensure to the parent comfort and repose during the probationary stoic of youth, and pride in the manhood of his offspring; and to the offspring a probable life of virtue, happiness and re spectability. Twenty-nine hundred and eleven bales of Cotton, (says the Providence Journal of the 11th inst.) arrived at this port on Monday, the freight of which, we understand, amounts to more than 812,000. —..sat* — BRUSH AWAY THE COBWEBS—The recent Legislature of the state of Maine, pas sed a law for the abolition of imprisonment of honest debtors for debt. Let the good work go on —’tis the march of true civilization. -000- Jl Farch of Civilization. —The Legislature of Delaware adjourned tnc 26th tilt. Among the most important of the public acts, is the. bill to abolish imprisonment for debt and to punish fraudulent debtors, passed on the last day of the session, which will go into opera tion on the first of March next, and which will then be applicable to all debts and con tracts, past as well as future. <?!}► A f hefamily. —ln the parish of Ticehurst, there is a faqiily of 7 brothers, whose united height is 48 feet. The youngest js 10, and 'mm THE FENIT f.ntiauy system. The late destruction of the Penitentiary buildings by tire, will probably bring the question of the entire abandonment of the system, or the introduction of important chan ges into it, before the next legislature. It it should be determined to continue the system, large appropriations will be called for, for the purpose of erecting new buildings for tiie ac commodation of the prisoners. Before this heavy expense i3 submitted to. the people ought to be satisfied of the' bene ficial operation of the system. The people ought not to be called on to part with large sums of money, except for a valuable consul eration. The system has heretofore proved a very, expensive one, and must still he sup ported by heavy animal appropriations.— What benefit has the public derived from it, or what benefits may they koj e to derive from ! it, for the future ? Has the state of society improved since its adoption ? Have public morals improved? Has the amount of crime lessened ? Have criminals subjected to its influence been reformed ?- We think all these questions may be rcadiiv answered in the negative. The experiment has been tried by the test of experience, and the result is •not at all doubtful. The records of our courts will show that crime of all kinds lias increas ed among us; public morals have deteriora ted ; and the system seems to hold out to criminals of a foreign grow th, an invitation to make this state the theatre of their opera tions. Tiie question then returns, what have the people of this state received in exchange for the enormous sums expended for the sup port of this system ? Why vve have tiie delu sions of dreaming philanthropists, who ima gine that in the new system, we have got rid of the severities and inhumanities of the old. But this delusion will be dispelled by a mo ments serious examination. The system of Penitentiary punishment as adopted in this state, is not more humane than the old, but on the contrary, more barbarous and debasing. Let us look at its operation. A poor and hungry man is prosecuted for stealing a few pounds of meat from the house, worth half a dollar; under the old system he would he whip, ped and sent about his business. But, says the visionary, corporeal punishment is revolt ing to public humanity, and degrading to the individual. So he is condemned to the peni tentiary at hard labor for lour years. Let us follow him to his confinement and sec the hu manity of the present law. He is placed in the power of an under keeper, who “cloathed in a little brief aufliyrity” is sure to act the tyrant. 11 tiie conduct of the prisoner should not be such as to meet the approbation of the officers of tiie institution, he is tucked up and flogged at discretion; so that the philanthro pist, who would hesitate to inflict thirty stripes for fear of shocking humanity and debasing the culprit, sends him to the penitentiary, where he may be tortured by the lash or oth er bar borons modes of punishment, every day for forms, at the will and pleasure of an irre sponsible tyrant. Wc were present at the workshop of the institution, some few years ago, when a prisoner was tucked up without tiie form ol a trial, and ordered to receive thirty lashes on the bare back for saying “dam nation" in the presence of one of the Inspect ors. And this under the operation of a law which claims to he purified from the barbari ties of the eld system. But the humanity or barbarity of a punish ment, must depend upon its justice. A pun ishment may be severe, yet ifstrictly gradua ted to the crime, it should not be called in human. Corpora; punishments may be grad uated to the offence. But punishment under our penitentiary system cannot be. In fact they fall with the greatest severity on the comparatively innocent. There have been instances where individuals have been con demned to the penitentiary fur offences, which have been the offspring of misfortune rather than premeditated or debasing crime; princi ples of virtue are not yet extinguished, their aliections arc yet warm, and their hopes of the future arc high and ardent. To such, a sentence to the penitentiary is ten times more dreadful than death. They are doomed to la bor in the penitentiary, increase the public revenue; while their innocent wives, their children are left to perish in helpless unpitied poverty; they are cut off from the sympathies of the world, the mark of infamy is indelibly stamped on the brow; all their hopes of the future are crushed ; and every virtuous prin ciple, every kindly emotion, every social af fection is stifled by the discipline to which they are subjected. They arc degraded in the eyes of the world; they are degraded in their own eyes; and at the eud of their term of confinement, they are turned again upon society, hardened and abandoned wretches, with every avenue to a virtuous course clos ed against them, every motive lor well doing destroyed, and every incentive to evil exci ted and exasperated. Upon such, penitentia ry punishment falls like a blighting curse, destroying at once and forever. But to the old offender, whose crimes de serve the weightiest penalties of the law, the penitentiary presents no terrors. He looks upon it rather as a tcin|>orarv retirement, where lie may withdraw himself for a while from the scenes of more active guilt; recruit his exhausted constitution at the public ex pense, plan new schemes of mischief, and from which he may emerge with reuewed powers to execute them. Ho has no affec tions to lie blighted ; no feelings of honor to be mortified, no hopes to be crushed. To hirn the penitentiary is merely a bug-a-boo, which neitlu r deters Irom crime, nor punish es it when perpetrated. From tiiis it appears tint the penitentiary s\stem does not graduate the punishment to the offence ; but falls the heaviest upon the least guilty. And therefore without being of any utility, it burthens the people with an enormous ex pense. Its expense to lie sure we consider bn? the least argument against the system.— Did its operation prevent crime, or reform the criminal, iu expense ought not to consti tute any objection against it. But while ex i penenco shows that it encourages crime, con* ' firms and hardens the offender, the post of its support increnst stho weight ot the argument *> * - > '■ ■ 1 .. " i rr*jimrnt which should be insisted on, because it it sicr understood than most otinrs. The public treasury is a sacred deposit which ought not to be squandered in wild and visionary schemes. Judiciously managed money affords the means of scattering irmi;. movable blessings over the fact; of a country in the hands of profligate politicians it u curse. How many splendid works of into-, rial improvement, would the vast sums c; pended in penitentiary experiments, haveer.- aided the state to prosecute. How many col leges might have been endowed, how many acadcmif s have flourished, through thetnear.s which tin so sums would have furnished. The free school system, which would carry the ru diments of education t® every man’s doo; could vve doubt not, bo supported at one half the expense of the penitentiary! And this system by striking at the root o' the evil, by easting out ignorance, the greet nurse of crime would do more in the cause of virtuo and mi. rality,than a thousand penitentiaries! The one would offer but an imperfect punishment of crime, the other would prevent it. Columbus Democrat. “ Come bright improvement, on the car of time, Ami rule this varied world from clime to clime.'’ THE LATE-CENSUS. Wo are indebted to the Harrisburg Intolli gencor for the following table of the Census of 1830, compiled from the official returns of the Marshals, (except the State of Mississir. |>i, the population of w hich is ascertained l.oui the newspapers.) EASTERN STATES; 1 820. 1830. Increase. Maine, 3518,335 390,102 mi, l^7 N. Hampshire, 244,101 269,53 3 28,372 Vermont, 235,76 4 280,065 44,C4;i Massachusetts, 523-,27 610,100 86,813 Connecticut, 275,248 297,711 22,468 Rhode Island, 83,059 97,211 14,152 1,059,854 1,954,082 297,823 MIDDLE STATES. 1820. 1830. Increapi'. New York, 1,372,812 1934,496 561,683 New Jersey, 277,-575 320,779 43,261 I’cnns. 1,0-19,458 1,330,034 290,57 Delaware, 72,719 76,737 3,933 Maryland, 407,350 446,913 39,563 3,179,944 4,103,859 929,015 SOUTHERN STATES. 1820. 1831. Increase Virginia.. 1,065,306 1,190,287 120,931 N. Carolina, 632,820 738,470 99,641 S. Carolina, 502,741 561,178 78,73? Georgia, 340,089 510,507 170,573 % 2,547,925 3,022,212 474,73? WESTERN STATES. 1820. 1630. Incrcnsf, Ohio, 581,434 937,679 356,25-3 Kentucky, 501,317 088/844 124,327 Indiana,’ 147,175 341,585 194,407 Illinois, 55,311 157,575 162,364 Missouri, 66,596 137,127 70,811 1,114,726 2,263,107 848,3 C 1 SOUTH-WESTERN STATES. 1820. 1830. Increase Tennessee, 422,813 68*1,922 262,009 Louisiana, 153,407 215,275 62.16 s Alabama, 127,001 309,210 181,332 .Mississippi, 75,448 97,865 22.417 779.569 1,307,478 527,005 TERRITORIES. let2o. 1830. Increase. Dish of Columbia 33,039 39,858 6,619 Michigan, 8,898 31,696 22;20: Arkansas, 14,246 30,380 16,13! Florida not taken, 34,725 56,181 136,611 SO,ll RECAPITULATION. 1820. 1630. Inert:* Fi. States, 1,659,854 1,934,692 2976:1 M. States, 3,179,94 4 4,108,95 9 929,011 S. States, 2,547,923 3,022,712 474,9“| W. States, 1,414,726 2,263,105 846,51 K. W. States, 779,569 1,307,471 526,0 l Territories, 59,181 136,611 60,3* 9,637,279 12,996,649 3,158,41 The same paper has made the subjoin! statement showing the political influence I each State in the national councils, accordi! to the new census, if, as it, is conjectured"! be the case, the ratio of representation.shot! be fixed by congress at 50,000. “Fivesla® having the same weight as three free men, fl representative numbers are given opposite! each State.” . Ratio States. Representative 50,000 f T nrcj® numbers. Sen. & Rep. friict-U Maine, 399,462 9 42,® N. Hafnp. 269,533 7 10® Vermont, 280,665 7 30i® Mass. 610,100 14 H'® Conn. 297,688 7 47,® R. Island, 97,205 3 47,® N. York, 1,933,493 41 •W® N. Jersey, 319,891 8 E® Delaware, 73,417 3 - s ® Penn. 1,329,846 28 -® Maryland, 205,771 8 '1 Air. about 976,000 21 - 6 ® N. Carolina,'639,Bß3 14 **'‘>! S. Carolina, 455,212 11 '® Georgia, 429,569 10 Ohio, 837,678 18 3 ® Kentucky, 622,707 14 1 Indiana, 841,582 8 ‘*y! Illinois, 157,27 7 5 j! Missouri, 127,492 4 ~j'! Tennessee, 6;13 X (170 14 -'® Louisiana, 171,722 5 1 Miss, about 85,090, • 3 '^'l Alabama, 262,210 7 J 0 K 2GB I It will he seen, that if the ratio ot -® seniation he fixed at 50,000, the increa® the number of members of the House o*® rcsontatives, will be only seven.- —Hu ,® number will of course he added to the -■ ors of President and Vice President. ■ Eastern and .MiddleState*will retain ®. the same strength they at P rcS £ n t ® the will Ic-o soinc'" ' ■ V