Newspaper Page Text
W o find the following well told tale in the
Vlexandria Gazette— lt is not fiction; we have
he pleasure of knowing the Reminiscent, now
- Lieutenant in the Navy—and long ago
■oe aid the substance of the story.
Peed. Arena.
MANUEL CARTUCiIO.
A PtHATK.
I \vM one evening in company with several
i.hcers of the Navy; when the conversation
. :rning upon the then recent Trial of Com.
otter, oy an easy transition settled upon the
ransaetions of the anti-piratical squadron
ominanded by that officer in the West Indies,
•lany incidents and personal adventures
rowing out of that service were related by
several of the company, one of which arrested
ny attention so forcibly, that my memory has
retained the subject of the story distinctly,
after the lapse of several years. An of
•leer, (a youth of about twenty years of age)
ifter a momentary pause in the conversation,
began, as nearly as I can recollect, in these
words Several of you, doubtless, remember
that fierce and indomitable Pirate Manuel
Cartucho—captured by Stripling on one of
his boat expeditions- Carr, wlio left us at
this moment, was present at the fight, and I
tiiiuk told me saved his life- When the boats
hoarded the piratical schooner, which the pi*
rates had run upon the rocks during the chase
ate the coast of Cuba, those who vv re not shot
down, lea ped from the vessel to the rocks, and
made their way into the woods under a heavy
fire from our seamen. Manuel fought like "a
lion, and was the last to throw down his arms
and'tako to flight. He had tarried too long,
however, to escape. Before ho reached the
bows of the schooner an old boatswain’s mate
was upon him. All hopes of escape vanish
ing, Manuel, as his last resource in the emer
gency, threw himself on his kt.ees, and with
uplifted hands, implored the interposition of
the Holy Virgin. When I first saw them,
saysC. the old tar was picking the flint with
his jack-knife having apparently just snapped
Che piece, and proceeded to adjust the tire
i.ock with all the indifference imaginable—
one 6xtremity to his own brawny shoulder,
and the other to the pirate’s ear. I got up in
time to throw aside the muzzle before it ex
ploded—another instant, and Manuel would
hav e been saved much ol the inconvenience
io which he was subsequently subjected. He
tvas the only prisoner we made.
Manuel was conveyed to Thompson’s Isl
and, our head-quarters, and delivered over to
the Commodore, who had occasion to admire
the fearless intrepidity & Herculean strength
of the pirate.
One fine evening Manuel was brought up
on the top gallant forecastle of the ship, to
breathe the fres' air and cool his irons, when
hi 9 aquatic predilections entirely overcame
his consciousness of present security and ease;'
and, dashing through the mass of astonished i
seamen, plunged into a rapid seaward tide, j
•which bore as many greedy sharks within its
bosom as “bubbles” on its surface “onward.”
Hut he “was, as it were, a child” of the o
■ean; and the monsters of the deep turned
from him as one of their familiars. The pi
rate had drifted, perhaps, a hundred fathoms
arom the ship before abo it was manned and
despatched in pursuit. But Manuel was no
drowning rat to catch at straws; lie was bound
to the Island, its stangle l and impenetrable
mangroves for a shelter from the spoiler ; he
jawed and dipped like a crippled loon duck,
ns the boat shot up with him. It was vanity,
even in a Cuba fisherman who strangles the
shark in his own coral depths, to strive with
'-he light cutter of a sloop, that leavis the dol
-I>hin in its wake. After a fierce struggle,
during which Manuel nearly succeeded iilhis
:fforts to capsize the light boat, when he would
have drowned the crew like so many puppies;
they hauled him by the hair into the gig;
where, like the savage wolf taken by the hun
ter, be crouched without a growl, in sudden
expectation of his fate, was taken on board
the ship and more securely ironed.
The prize schooner, (the Pilot,) a few days
hftor this event, was ordered home for adjudi
cation, and Manuel was sent on board to st.md
his trial on his arrival at Norfolk, the place of
destination. Stripping commanded the
schooner; myself, and Midshipman B. of New
Jersey, were his only officers; for a crew we
had ten or a dozen skeleton invalids, worn out
by disease, and dismissed the squadron for
infirmity. Besides the officers, there were
but two able-bodied hands on board. From
some cause unaccountable to me, S
ordered Manual’s irons to be knocked off, &
suffered him to go at large duringthc passage
home- Nor did ho seem undeserving this
forbearance; but behaved with propriety, and
soon ingratiated himself, and won the pitv of
every one on hoard the schooner. He attach- i
and hitns.if particularly tome; and night and i
*iay, Manuel was, in conjunction with inv
watch, we lively engaged in tjio duties of the j
vessel, lie often sought an opportunity of 1
conversing with ine-on my lonely mid-watch,
when the helmsman even was nodding on the
tjder, ur' iinmg, perhaps, ot sailing on whole
cccaus of • “Jamaica,” and also all on board
buried j.t pToibund sleep; at those moments
be would bewail the untimely end to which lie
was speedily approaching—protest his in
nocence of crime—and endeavor to awaken
my sympathy in his behalf. Ho would then ,
weep like an infant; and signs which I mote i
comprehend, (for 1 was then not a Mason)'
vcie made to bear witness to his voracitv and
innocence. He was under the impression
that wc had been sent to sea to punish him
for his crime?, and that a hard-loatured old!
boa.swain mate on board v.iasXo be his cxccu-1
tinner: andjt seems that lie had prepared fori
the event.
Y> r c made Cape Henry light the roornimr of!
the tenth day, and having a fine easterly
i breeze, we Wi.re n:ido happy with the prom
iso of the pilot of reaching Noifolk before’ the
matting of the sun. The garlu “freshened as
i the day was done," and already the town of
1 Norfolk began to appear amulet the haze of the
| evening, as wc rounded Craney Island. The
pilot Wa£ a lid, aim this was ills first essay in
; bis art. He became confused as the sound-1
, ings suddenly shoaled, ?> t rj backed us at high!
: water nn the shoal of Craney Island. We la-i
bored haTd uiitii the moon was high in r.ir, and
the tide had considerably fallen,"when, a ban
•toping ail -hopes offfrtfag ''•Cfnr.iil *h- \m.
THE MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULTURAL AND MERCANTILE INTELLIGENCER.
scl was disburdened of her stores, (about a
hundred bags ol coffee,j \vc thought of goinir
to sleep off the fatigues of a hard day’s work.
It was then I thought ot our prisoner, and ob
served to Kas he went belgw, that as our
cockle shell of a boat was out, we had better
secure the pirate- lie told me to do so. 1
called Manuel to mo, and at the same time
told the B’s mate to go he low and get his irons, i
i The pirate understood mo, and heard the rat-!
(ling of the irons as they were dragged out be-'
low. He thought that at last his time was!
| come, and that these were the preparations
for his execution. He became restive—unit-!
terwi and mingled his prayers for mercy with |
horrible imprecations. I told one near to me
to bring my pistols. He planted his fine form
like a bronze statue, upon the deck—threw
up his outstretched arm to heaven, and, as the
moonbeams played about his dark and rin
ged countenance,his black eye glowed like
the living coal. Ha struck such ter
ror into the souls of our dastard crew, that
they quailed and blanched before his glance
like stricken deer. I ordered them to seize
him. Ono, bolder than the rest, raised an
axe to strike him down. Manuel caught it
as it fell, and, wrenching fioiu tiio sceinan’s
grasp the axe, poised it a moment in the air,
smiled in bitter scorn upon the astonished
circle as they shrunk before him, and hurled rt
into the sea. The tiger springs not lrora his
lair so suddenly as Manuel leaped upon me,
seizing me by the throat. Another bound,
and he was “many lathomsdeep into the sea.”
>ly messmate B. had overheard the noise,and,
although undressed, rushed on deck to see
the cause. He was just in time to throw his
arms around my body, as Manuel, with me in
bis giant grasp, lept overboard. My clothes
gave way, and the robber went alone! Stir
ted to fury by the spirit-moving scene, I
sprang into our little boat,closely followed by
;iny messmate, and, without time for thou Hit,
pushed oil’in pursuit of Manuel. We should
have shot him from the deck—it was now too
late, the hailed to give room to do so. We
were close upon him; as we shot up with him,
B. struck him a stunning blow with the blade
of bis oar, seized him by the hair, and Man
uel, nothing loth, half lugged, half leaped in
to tiie boat. lie saw his advantage. We
were now adrift in the only boat belonging to
the schooner—the tide last carrying us into
tin; broad waters ot the bay—-the nut-shell of
a skiff scarce large enough to hold us all—and
two slight youths to contest its possession and
its liberty. He sprang like a madman to the
assault—in another instant we were rolling
in tne bottom of the boat, locked in each oth
er s arms—in no parental embrace, believe
me. I shall never cease to recollect the death
like silence of the first fearful moment we
struggled for the mastery; and, long after the
hand of Time had softened the outlines of
that night-scene, have I heard the wild shrieks
and the stifled groans that issued from that
lonely boat. The conflict was long and doubt
ful not an instant was theclosehug in which
we were entangled relaxed—there was not
room to strike a blow—the pirate had not
time to draw a Spanish knite concealed be
neath his vest—with hands and teeth fixed on
each other's throats, smothered groans and
blackened visage spoke its progress. He
strove at times to overturn the boat—at oth
ers to pitch headlong with us into the sea. An
unsuccessful efl’or to do this, brought my
messmate and myself both upon him for the
first time. I lie boat lurched, and he fell
heavily across the stern with both upon his
breast. He had crushed my right hand in
Ins teeth—my lett and both ot B’s. wore upon
his throat to strangle him—one of the pirate’s
arms was under us, and our teeth were close
ly fastened on the other. The pirate was ev
i idcutly fast giving way—-my hand dropped
from his relaxing jaws—his face blackened
under the pressure of our gripe—he soon ceas
ed to breathe .
c now, lor the first time, gave an ear to
cries at no great distance from us—cries for
assistance—screams of a drowning man. We
recognized the voico ol one of our crew. lie
had doubtless jumped from the schooner to
swim to our aid—and we drifting so fast with
the tide, the poor fellow was exhausted, and
had lost sight of the boat. What was to be
done ? The pirate might be only partially
strangled;if left while we were saving the
seaman, he might recover and renew the fight.
We were already exhausted to the last ex
tremity—a few words passed totliis effect be
t" cen us and we resolved to rid us of the pi
rate. Me launched him headlong into the
sea, and a few bubbles “showed where he
was.” Taking the seats which had been
overthrown in the struggle, (for we had lost
our oars at once,) and directed by voices be-
I coming feebler every moment, with greatdif
ficulty we paddled to our poor fellows and
picked them up. It was as wc supposed, they
had swam to our assistance, hut were unable
to reach the boat. We were now four in all.
11. and myself entirely overcome, stretched
in the bottom of the boat—drifting very qui
j etly into ilan’pton Roads at midnight, without
lan oar, sail, or rudder. Happily for us, the
| schooner’s signal guns, of which she had fired
several, brought a boat full manned from a
vessel in the Roads. This was sent in pursuit
and soon came up with us. We reached our
schooner about two in the morning, worn out
and exhausted with fatigue.
I The rest, is very easily told. Manuel was
I not dead when we threw' him overboard—the
sudden plunge into tlm water soon revived
tho almost extinguished vital spark—he reviv
ed, and swam ashore, about a mile ! He was
pursued and taken by a party of U. S. troops
two days after, w hom he resisted to the last—
suflcringscvcral shots to be fired before he
yielded. I conveyed him to the Norfolk pris
on, amidst the shouts of assembled multitudes
and delivered the stern villain into the hands
of justice His throat was swollen and his
lace turgid—he could scarcely articulate, and
when questioned by me pointed to his throat.
I could have done so too with as much pTopri-
M fy. lie was tried by Judge Marshall, con
demned and pardoned, by Monroe. Manuel
i still lives, the terror of honest traders “in the
' Indies.”
ir.—. , ,
1 In memory of a Clerk’s soil, Devonshire,
i Dog. killed by the full of a piece of ice :
llless my i, i, i,i, i, pa
Here he lies,
In n sad pickle,
lifijcd ’ j an i r iclr t
BOOK AUCTION.
Scene —By Candle-light in Chatham Street.
Auclio ieer. —Gentlemen and ladies—beg
pardon—no ladies are here—more’s the pity
—gentlemen, fellow-citizens and foreigners
—dont be alarmed—aint going to make a
speech like Mark Anthony over the dead
body of Caesar—but trust—no, I don’t trust—
tis all a cash business in my line—hope—aye
I hope, gentlemen, I shall this evening be the
means ol disposing to you some of the subli
rnest lights ol literature. Here, gentlemen,
is the “ \V hole Art and Mystery of a Tallow.
Chandler”—a luminous work, I dare say, a
ro-luminous one, you all sec—how much for
it ? Give me a bid.
Bidder. —Three cents, to begin with.
Auct. I'hrce cents! three pieces of copper
for this treasure of learning—only three cents!
why man alive, you are out of sense—mad—
stark mad—dement and illiterate, to oiler
such a pittance for such a work.
2d Bid. Sixpence.
Auct. Only sixpence—here goes for six
pmee the “Whole Art” &C. Only sixpence
for this work on grease—
“ Tis grease, but living grease no more,”
as my Lord Byron says—but can’t dwell—
can’t quote poetry at these prices, gentlemen
here goes—going, going, gone for a sixpence.
‘Tis yours, Air. Leatherapfon.
2d. Bid. Aye, and sure it is, and I’ll pay
you the cash for it.
Auct. Now, gentlemen, do be lively,here
is the Pilgrims Progress, a work you have all
heard of—written by John Bunyan—a great
writer—how much for the Pilgrim’s Progress?
Bid. Twenty-five cents'.
Auct. Thank you, sir, you’re a scholar—
every inch of you—come, gentlemen, keep
moving—give us a bid—most tired qf waiting.
Bid. Two and six.
Auct. Two and six—two and six—poor
progress, gentlemen, for the Pilgrim’s Pro
gress—only two and six—must knock it down
—can’t help it—’tis yours, Mr. Twoundsix—
a great bargain, depend upon it.
Bid. My name is Cash, if you please-
Auct. Oh, Mr. Cash, am happy to see you
—hope the whole family of Cash is here.—
Now; gentlemen, 1 offer you “Coelebs in
search of a Wife”—an excellent coast-pilot for
those sailing (o the shores of matrimony—all
the sunken rocks and quicksands are laid
down here—you can’t but f.tecr -clear of them
if you only buy this book—how much for it!
Ist Bid. Three shillings.
2d Bid. Three and six—l’ll give three and
six.
Auct. Three and six, two bidders at three
and six—’tis too bad, gentlemen—ruinous
prices !
Ist Bid. Four shillings.
Auct. Thank you, sir—the book is yours
—wish you a prosperous voyage in search of
a wife. And here, gentlemen, is a lot of old
almanacs, Masonic and Anti-Masonic, Far
mer’s and Mechanic’s—every variety of alma
nac’s—what for the lot ?
Bid. Four-ponce-happcnny.
Auct. That’s a Yankee—no mistake there
—l'oiir-pcncL'-liappemiy for the Yankee—dont
let him speculate on you, gentlemen.
2d Bid. Two shillings for the lot.
Is* Bid. Dang it! I’ll give two and six.
2d Bid. 'Three shillings.
Ist Bui. Four then—l’ll give four shill
ings forthcm’ara almanics.
Auct. Done—they are yours, brother Jo
nathan, cs sure as guns. Now comes an odd
volume of Wavcrly—set your price, gentle
men—don’t be scared—will no one bid—l’ll
start it myself—sixpence, I offer for Waverly,
docs nobody go higher—here’s another odd
volume, by the sa.ne author. The second vo
lume oft lie Antiquary—just as good as new
—I bid that in for the same price don’t
be going, gentlemen, don’t leave lire temple of
the Muses—stop a moment, I’ve something
that will touch your ideas—the Confessions of
Gibbs—that tremendous pirate—killed more
men than Bonaparte—what for tho Confess
ions ? Don’t all speak at once.
I**< Bid. One shilling.
2d Bid. One and six.
2d Bid. Two shillings.
Auct. Two shillings for the dying words of
Gibbs, gentlemen—hope I shall get more for
your dying speeches—hard case for a dying
speech to gooff at this rate. However, ft
can’t be helped. You’re the man, Mr. Snipe
nose.
2d. Bid. Pont’t reflect on my nose, if you
please, sir—take your money and have done
with—
Auct. Oh, don’t be angry—did’nt mean to
offend—beg your nose’s pardon—his a very
decent nose, only lengthy, like many other
bills —tailors’ bills,and billsin chancery—but
here’s the life of Baron Munchausen—a rate
traveller in lus day—hew much for Mun
chausen ?
Bid. Ten pence.
Auct. Only tenpencc for the wonderful
travels of the Baron Munchausen—tied his
horse to a post in a snow storm one night,and
next morning found him hanging by a steeple.
You know the story, gentlemen, so give us a
bid—too bad—you are all an illiterate set —
knowledge has no charms for you—l’ll not
waste time and breath on you any longer—l
wont throw pearls before swine—this is the
last bargain you get to-night—done at ten
pence—the book is yours, sir, thank you, sir,
thank you, sir, shall be happy to see you hero
to-morrow—done for to night—put out the
lights, boy—can’t burn candles at these pri
ces. D.
True friendship, as Telly observes, pro
ceeds from a reciprocal esteem and a virtuous
resemblance of manners. When such is the
basis, the variety in certain tenets and opin
ions is of no ill consequence to the union,
and will scarcely ever unloose the social ties
of love, veneration, and esteem.— Swift.
Amongmany other evils that attend gam
ing, are these—loss of time, loss of reputation,
loss of health, loss of fortune, loss of temper,
ruin ot families, defrauding of creditors, and
what is the often effect of it, U )0 loss of life
itself.
Many ot tho .Mussulmans of Africa have no
other mode of studying the Koran, than to
have thacharnctcrs written with a black sub
stance on a piece of board, and then wash
t!n‘u: Fffti.uJ dr';:!. water!
mrm&izum r&
"Just as the twig it beat, the tree's inclined."
ADDRESS
To the Graduates of the South-Carolina Col
tege, at the Public Commencement, 1830.
By Thomas Cooper, M. D. — Published
at the request of the Junior Class.
Gentlemen—
You are about to leave this institution, and
I have a few words of advice to offer before
we part. It is true, I have nothing to say that
I have not said before, but it will not be tlje
less worthy of attention. We are apt to for
get and disregard what is so true as to be ad
mitted on all hands, and assented to without
hesitation. It passeth in at the one ear and
goetli out at the other. A paradox will star
tle you and arrest attention; an axiom makes
but a weak impression. All useful truths,
therefore, require to be repeated; especially
to young men, to whom deliberation and re
flection haye hitherto been a task and riot a
pleasure.
You are now about to commence, not to quit
your studies. Those of you who are destined
lor the learned professions, will soon feel this.
In the pursuits connected with those profes
sions, the habits of attention we have hitherto
forced upon you, will be inestimable, where
we have been successful. The more you have
hoen compelled to labor here, the easier will
labor be to you hereafter, and you will thank
us by and by, for every exertion of our author
ity, and every compulsory duty which you may
have complained of while at College. The
aim of the Faculty has been rather to earn
vour future than your present approbation.—
\ou are not even yet qualified to estimate the
value of the discipline which the laws and
practice of this institution has forced upon
you. But the time will gradually approach
when our endeavors will be properly valued.
We have cast our bread upon the waters, it
will be found again after many days.
It is the habit of mental exertion, the fa
cility of studying, arising from constant prac
tice, the acquired power of commanding and
fixing your attention, upon which you must
rely for your future reputation and success.—
W itliout this, Genius is an ignis fatuus: com
bined with it, Genius may do much indeed,
for yourselves and for the world. But the
mere natural talent is by no means to be set
in comparison with patient, preserving indtis
try. Genius unregulated by acquired know
ledge, and practical experience, is apt to pro
duce self conceit, hasty determination, pre
mature and imprudent declarations of opin
ion, and wild and eccentric modes of think
ing and of acting. It takes a course to be ga
zed at, but not to be followed. There is no
settled union between genius and* vtysdorn.—
Industry, on the other band, is sure to find out
how little we know, in comparison of what is
to be known ; and to confirm the wholesome
persuasion, that great eminence is never ac
quired without great labor.
But the first of all your duties and acquire
ments, is to acquire really and faithfully the
character of a good man. Irreproachable mor
al conduct lays at the root of all desirable ex
cellence. It is a favorable counterbalance a
gainst inferiority in every other acquirement;
and though other qualities may be desirable,
this is absolutely necessary. The praise of
being a good man, conferred by good men, in
the highest recompense we can receive in this
world. All of you are destined to he settled
in life in the usual manner. You will marry
and have families. \ou will then feel the
-great importance of the doctrine you now hear;
and I pray God you may all of you leave to
your children the pjoud portion of an irre
proachable character; and exhibit in your
own course of life a manifest example of the
truth you have so often heard from your in
structors here, that whether in private oi in
public life, honor and honesty are the wisest
policy.
Many of you, I hope and believe, are des
tinued to serve your country as legislators
In pursuance of the maxim I have just repeat
ed. let me warn you against a mistake that le
gislators are apt to commit, in supposing that
what would be disgraceful in one man as an
individual, is pardonable in a hundred. That
dishonesty becomes annihilated by divided re
sponsibility. This is a very convenient doc
trine where morality is considered as a thing
to be moulded into any shape that convenience
may require; and much of the political evils
we complain of at this time, may be ascribed
to its practical adoption elsewhere. We
hate done our best in this College to incul
cate far ffi_rent precepts ; and to teach the
important truth, that the maxims of common
honesty are equally binding on nations as on
individuals—<jn an assembly of a thousand,
as on any one of the number. For tho last
time I repeat these precepts to you, and 1 shall
hope not without effect. Remember, of all
courage the highest grade is moral courage;
tirat which goc3 on straight forward to "do
what is right, regardless of the consequences
that may result from it.
This is not a theological institution, and I
rejoice that it is not. W e are freed from the
quarrelsome quest ons of orthodox}’ and he
terodoxy, and are wisely left to bestow our
attontie.i on objects of more direct and prac
tical utility. By the Constitution of South
Carolina, our 1 gislators are prohibited from
intermeddling with religious subjects, or le.
gisluting on religious considerations: and so
-ol course are all those who derive their author
ity under them. “The free exercise and en
joyment of religious professions and worship,
(sav our Constitution,) shall forever hereafter
h’ ' <1 in this State to all mankind, with
oi.■ .on < preference.
lore, I have little to
|trg - • y u remained members of this
hi' - ■ tre always to you what I
I*'-' ■ ! * ’no Student’s who prece
ded while yon are under the con
tro 1 • ig!: rnd it is wise
in v prof. i3 t! Hr religious to
ne te . 1 • may be in error; hut
jo l ■ . the. they rra incapable of
wd ng you. Moreover, while
yo . ' .1* - duties were abun
dan attended to, to
f ft tour tunc. But r.ov, that
Y°" iagow laws cf
nf ’.'l3 i u:d, set 'you fre
f'' r - permit you to thick
:3:} ;..7f c-: v - '■■■A your religion is>
your own ; the honest result of your own dili
gent and impartial inquiry. Whatever you
may decide upon m this respect, let your faith
be known and judged of by its fruits; by the
moral worth of your character, and the liabitu
al uprightness of your conduct. This is ali
that society has a right to look to. Whoev
er takes the liberty of enquiring beyond this,
inquires impertinently. To our fcilow-mcn
we arc accountable for our conduct, to no hu
man being are we accountable for our opin
ions. If I tolerate what I deetn the errors
and heresies of my neighbor, he has no right
to quarrel with me for mine. •
LABOURING .SCHOOLS.
By the Editor of the New-York Farmer.
I roni the reports ol several academic and
theological institutions in various parts of our
country, wo perceive that experiments in at
tending to manual labour, while acquiring an
education, have resulted as satisfactorly as
the warmest advocates of the system could
have expected. We have long been and we
axe still, confident that the plan of uniting
mental and manual culture, is the most natu
ral method of education, best calculated to
devclope the powers of to mind, and admi
rably adapted to the circumstances and wants
ol every class. It tends to harmonize the
physical, intellectual and moral powers of
man, and make him what the Creator inten
ded, capable of enjoying all the pleasures of
sense and thought, unaffected and undimin
ished by either bodily or mental weakness.
from our own experience and observation,
we believe that the money appropriated bv
the state for common schools, docs, in reali
ty, but little good; or rather, the benefit is
much lessthauit would be under a different
disposition of it. Let part of it, at least, be
expended in assisting the people of every
town in purchasing a small farm, work houses,
and apparatus for an institution Provision
thus made, poor parents would be at no ex
pense for education, and would have the sat
isfactionof sending their children to a school
for industry and virtue, instead of idleness,
the precursor of rice.
In a proper state ol society, youths should
learn their trades while acquiring an educa
tion. Let the “Farmers, Mechanics and!
Workingmen" advocate this system, and their
liberal and benevolent objects will be obtain
ed. The aid derived from government should,
generally,speaking, increase the privileges,
and leave it to no personal enterprise and in
dustry to obtain them. The present plan of
supporting public schools in the city, and dis
trict schools in the country, excites in the
breast oi the scholar none of those noble
feelings, arouses none of those habits which
gives us the hum ideal of a perfect citizen.
Among the institutions which have provis
ions for manual labor, is a Seminary at Whites
burge, N. t. the Manual Labor Academy,
at Germantown Pa. at Elizabethtown, Shrews
bury, and Bloomfield, New-Jersey, Union
Theological Seminary, Virginia; Andover,
Massachusetts, Prince town, Kentucky, and
at Maysville, Tennessee. The following is
an extract from the report of the Manual
Labor Academy, of Pennsylvania, in 1829:
“The premises consists of forty two and a
half acres of good land, several out houses,
and a commodious dwelling on Slain street,
the residence of the late Dr. Blair. The
farm is in the rear of the dwelling on a lane
which commumr ates with the main road;
there is on it, stabling, coach-house, granary,
cart shed, and farm yard, and a culinary car
den of one third of an acre.
“The youth have respectable talents, hal>,
itual industry, and are pleased with the mode
of education The health of this interesting
family has been uninterrupted, except in a
few cases diseased when admitted. Every
invalid remaining there has *oen restored to
health- They board with the principal, their
diet plain, and in as great variety as consist
ent with economy and health, arid as much as
possible the products of the pupil’s labors on
the farm. Piety, learning and honest indus
try, are united. Sure such an enterprise can
not fail.
“The usual branches of study m classical
schools are pursued with the addition of the
Bible. The hours of recreation are not hours
of waste and idleness, and immorality.—
They are emp.oycd in useful bodily labor;
such as will exercise their skill, make them
dexterous, establish their health and strength,
enable one to defray his own expenses, and ]
fit him for the vicissitudes of life; particu-!
larly so if they are destined for our new set- [
tlements.
“Thus far they have been employed in ear-!
pentcr work, gardening and fanning. Four'
of the students are good workmen in wood;
and profitable in their ow’n labor, and also as
instructors to tnose who arc less experienced.
or seven thus employed have already
made the various repairs of the buildings and
all the needful furniture. Some orders from
the city have been executed by them, and
they arc ready for more. Those who are en
gaged in gardening have supplied the hous
es. Others will furnish from the farm thirty
bushels of wheat, seventy bushels of rye, ten
tons of hay, one hundred and fifty bushels of
corn, and three hundred and fifty bushels of
potatoes.”
“These are counsellors
“ That feelingly persuade me what I am.”
"“MORTGAGING 'TIIE BODY.”
The April number of the North American
Review, contains a noti o of the Fifth Annual
Report ot the Boston Prison Discinlinc Soci
ety, and a great number of facts in* regard to
imprisonment for debt. b
l he Society have returns from one hundred
!,™ Jj.y* >' c;:r 1829. In thirty-two of
, persons were imprisoned, for
[ b ma lcss twenty dollars ; and 902 for
i " Urn : mo T O \ h ™ twenty dollars, and less than
; one hundred doll;.re.
; In fifty.three prisons, the whole number
| imprisoned for suingmore than one hundred
’ ar h was 4)6 ’ or as 1 to ° 7 compared
* >* *-
In srvcß tecn prisons, in which 2057 per
sons Wi re imprisoned, only 295 paid the debt
"prisons in the Northern States
K - •* ■- re were imprisoned 2742.
' l ~ ; :uri ofjwison* in the Southern
.States, for the same period, hut 85 wc
prisoned. This is a striking fact, exhio !>
in strong contrast, the liberalised character m
the laws of the South, in contrast with those 0 *
the North.
From tire returns, it appears that the aver :r. e
; number of persons discharged, by taking the
poor debtor’s oath, is thrice as great its the
number w he pay tiie debt.
Facts of this kind may be cited toany .
tent, all tending to show that imprisons nt f or
debt, is of little other u-e, than that ofcslfiG#.
ingu relic of a barbarous age.
The r port states that imprisonment f,,.
debt, in Ohio, is abolished. This is incur.
correct. Our laws still permit it, without even
the restriction as to the amount of the del*
which is common in some of the Eastern and
Middle Statos. We believe, however, that
public sentiment in Ohio is ripe for the chance
and so soon a3 :ro shall be so fortunate asm
elect a body of legislator# in whom are united
some spirit of philanthropy, with a little moral
courage, we may hope twhave this disgrace
ful law swept from oux statute book.
The Prison Discipline Society,. have taken
measures to procure the o, unions ef a number
of distinguished individuals vrt the policy of
confining- the body for debt. Among those
we perceive the names of C’arcy, Webster,
Channing, Charles Jackson, Everett, die.—
It is useless to say, that there is no diffi-r-'iicor
of opinion among those persons. They all con
cur unequivocally, in the opinion, that im
prisonment for debt, except in cases of fraud,
is useless to the creditor in coercing payment
■—cruel to the debtor and his fa mil -Soften
immoral in its tendencies—and disgraceful to
our country ana the age in which we live.
Cincinnati American
loathful Imre.—'l fie following law puzzle
was put to us by a young Barrister during the
last Spring circuit. Suppose a feme sole oi
lawful age, contracts a debt, and then marries
a young man under age; how is the debt to be
recovered ? leu cannot sue the wife without
joining the husband; and it i 3 a well settled
principle ol law, that an infant cannot be sued
except for necessaries. This question arose
in a case then actually pending in the Court
ot Common Pleas for Pickens District. An
old lady upwards ol sirty years of nee, living
in that District, had lately smitten ;.n amor
ous youth of nineteen, by whom she was led to
the altar, where mutual vows passed between
them, she to love and obey, he to comfort and
protect! Some time previous to her marriage,
this fair damsel had contracted a small debt,
on which she was then 6ucd with her husband!
The plea of infancy was put in bv her espous
ed lord and master, to this action; but we be
lieve it availed him not, as there was a proper
rejoinder, stating all the circumstances.
Greenville Mountaineer.
“ Other employments and arts serve for the em
bellishment, but Agriculture is necessary for the
support of human life.”
CATIXE AND SIIEEF.
Ju dgc Kenan, of Coweta county, whose ex
cellent .Milch Cows were noticed by us a
short time ago,—and whose indefatigable ex
ertions to improve the breed of Cattle in this
State, are worthy of the highest praise—re
ceived at our wharf, on Thursday last, from
Philadelphia—-whence they were shipped to-
Savannah, and-from thence to Augusta, in tho
Steam-Boat John Stoney —a fine Bull and
Cow ot the Devonshire breed, and a Ram and
Ewe of the Bakcwcll breed. The cattle, ua
usual with their breed, u’c handsomely form
ed, of a rich red color, w ith short horns, and
fine, well-turned limbs. The Devonshire
breed ib celebrated, at home, not so much
for largeness of size, or quantity of milk, as
for the exceeding richness of the latter, and
tho excellent quality of the butter, and for
the fineness of grain, tenderness and richness
ol tho beef. It is held in high repute in
England, and has for sometime been advan
cing io estimation there; and we are inclin
ed to think it much better suited to our South
ern climate, than the larger breeds. The
Sheep arc ol tho kind most commonly called,
at home, the Leicestershire breed, which
grows extremely fat, and to a very large size.
\\ c have seen the fat of the mutton three or
four inches thick on tho ribs, and the gheep
so large and I .-road, that when laid on the
L* lo }’ could not turn.themselves, to gc*
up. The tvool grows very long and thick,
but of course, not very fine. The quantity
taken from these two, nt the last shearing,
though the Ewe is not near grown, was, as we
learn from Judge Iv. 14 J pounds. We should
think the breed to large, fat, and thick of wool,
lor this climate, though they will doubtless
make an excellent cross for our small south,
ern sheep. They suffer much from heat in
iheir own much cooler climate, where it i
often distressing to sec them lie and pant in
the shade. There is a Urced of English sheep
called tho Fouth-Down, of much lighter and
finer woo!, bone, and flesh, which is greatly
esteemed in England, and we think would be
more suitable here, though perhaps not more
so, than a cross between those brought by
Judge K. and our own small breed.
We hope the highly meritorious and use
ful cfcertions of Judge Kenan, will stimu
late our Planters generally, to follow his en
terprising examples; which wo think they
will scarcely hesitate to do, when they wit
ness the substantial benefits which will be
reaped from them, both by himself and others-
It is wonderful to note the rapid advantages
derived from improvements of the breeds of
animals. The Guinea Hog was first intro
duced into this State, we believe, by Major
Alton Pemberton, of Burke, about thirteen*
years ago, and in a very few years thereafter,,
the progeny of a single sow, of this excellent
breed—superior to all others, ns well in i* 3
adaption t-o our clitr.afc, ns in its fecundity
and the quality flesh — -was spread ovc^
thj rhpt* Atig. C%rc"leh
* 3-