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'he _ t . n£(csi9 • _j t* A * ■ ■ 1 OR,R\l.\ AND S' A SHINE. " ns wf ;urn our Beks Fr m cm ; i ntpatiK :i, thrown into his grave, N:> his t .tniiLrs in i>ls burledfortunes >■ brink ...i ..vv.o..’’ •Why do you koep me for so long a time | at tile door V s iirl Edvvar! F. passionately to | his wile. The night had passed, hot its cold ; V'intl <-liftrod the horse, as Mis. F. with a sorrowful Ik art, undid the look. •It is late, Edward: and 1 con! 1 not keep lroni slumbering.’ Ho said nothing in return to this: lust flung | himself in a>clviif, and gazed intently on the , fire. His son climbed upon his knees, and putting his arms round the fat hi r’s ik ok, vvliis t. -rod, “papa, what has mamma horn frying for?’ -—Mr. F. started—shook c!i' Ins hoy, r.nd said with violence, ‘get to bed, sir, what business has your uiollk r to lot you he up at this hour V The poor child's !ow< r lip pout and ; but hr •was, at this ti.no, too much frightened to cry. His sister sih nt!y took him up; and when lie had readied i is cot his warm heart discharg ed itself of its noisy grief. The mother heard his erring, and went to him; but she soon returned to the parlour. Him leaned upon hei husband and bus addre ssed him: ‘Ed ward, i will uot upbraid you on account of your harshness to me —blit 1 implore of you not to tot in tins inanu. r before your child.m.— You are no! Edward as you uscd’to he! Those hettvv eyes f ell of wretchedness, as well us of badi hours. You wrong me—you wiong your self, thus to let my hand show i am your wife —b it at the same time let vour heart know singleness in matters of moment. —1 am aware of t kind of society in which yon huv, late ly nut dged. Tell me, Edward, for Heaven’s g>:u, toll me!—wt arc poor—We are reduced! weAirc ruined !—is it not so?’ Edward had not a word for his wife; but i ipltn’s tears err more awful than his words. ‘Well, be it so, Edward! Our children jnay. stiff'. r from our 1..11; but itVill rcdcuuh ray exertions for them. And as for my sell, you do not know me if you think that circum stances 1 ssen my feelings ior you. A wo man’s love is like the plant v. hich shows its .strength the more it is trodden on. Arouse yourself my husband—it is true, your lather ■Eas cast you off, and you are indebted to him ,n a serious sum—hut lie is not all tire world! •*—-only consider your wife in that light.’— A slight tap was now heard at the door, and Airs. F. went to ascertain the cause; she re turned to her husband : ‘.Mary is at the door j ♦-—he says you ahvuyi kissed her before she j ■fent to Leu V ‘My child—my child,’ said the fathc r; ‘God bless you —I am not well, Mary:—Nay, do r.ot speak to me to-night; go to rest now— give me one of your nr tty smiles the u.orn ing, and your father will ho happy again. Mr. t F. too was persuaded by Ins affection sto partner to retire ; hut sleep and rest was rot for him—his wife and his children had once given him happy dreams—hut now, the ruin he had brought upon tin.ni was an awake ning reality. When the light of the morning appeared ■above the line of the opposite house, Mr. F. arose. ‘Where are you going Edward ?’—said his vviie. ‘1 have been considering,’he replied, calmly, ‘and-am determined to try my lather, lie loved me when I. was a boy—was proud of me. It is true, I have acted dishonorably by him. Yesterday 1 spoke harshly of him; but I did not then know myself. \our dear affection, niv wife, has completely altered me. 1 ncvci can forget mj ill tiva. . nt towards you; but I will make uj> for it—l will—in deed I will—Nav, do not; do not grieve in in this way; this is worse to me than all; vour young ones, my wife; l will be back .toon. The children appeared in the breakfast room. Mary was ready with In r smile, and jhe boy was anxious for the notice of his fa ther. After a short space of time, Mr. F. returned. Why so pale, my husband! will your parent r.ot as -ist you.’ ‘Wc must indeed sink my love! He will not assist me. lie upbraided me; I did not, Tcould not answer him a word. He spoke kindly of you and your little ones, blithe has cast us oil’forever.’ The distressed man had scarcely said this, when a person rudely came in. The purport this visit was soon perceived. In the name of F’s father lie took possession of the prop erty, and he had the power to make F. a pris on e r. ‘You shall not take papa away,’ said the lit tle sen, at the same time kicking at the offs •vr. ‘Mamma,* whispered Mary, ‘must, my fa ther go to prison—won’t they !< t us go ion !’ ‘Here comes my authority,’said the deputy sheriff. The elder Mr. F. doggedly placed himself an a chair. ‘You shall not take my papa away,’ cried out the boy to his grandfather. *A\ hatever may have been my conduct sir,’ said the miserable Edward, ‘this is unkind [for you. I have not a single (fooling for my > self, but iny wife—my children —you ln.ve no right thus to harness them with your pre sence.’ ' ‘Nay,husband, r-sponCcd Mrs. F. ‘think [ .net o me- Tour lather gannot distress me. i have not kn •wnym: Edward from your child- Thood asCc lias dote, hut he shall see how 1 j ’an cling to you—can be proud of you in | vour poverty. lie lias forgotten your youth -11 ul days ;he has lost sight ol’his own thought lie ss years.’ * ’lhcold gentleman directed hislavr agent ffo leave the room. He then slow ly yet ner- Butisly answered tints: . . ‘Aiadam —I have not forgotten that I once l:.ad a wife as amiable and noble minded as Ltnmu If; and 1 have not Forgotten that your §MLuid was l;rr favourite child. An old 1 lan hides his sorrows; but let not the world I,,ink him unfeeling; csjm eiajlv as that world K uyiit him so to do. "1 h<‘ distress 1 have S >s moment caused was premeditated on my ft it. it bus had its full cffu'l. A mortal [;s • viee bv single steps; and many think j fte Victim must return by degrees. 1 know j ■ut.. in -ui j edition : aid that with him a VUl’i 31TfCO$ ADYERTISKR, A'M> A GIUCULT V\i AIi AN MEiU A i iLK l -Vl^j.V, single leap is sufficient. That leap he has t..ken. He is again in my memory as t!ie fa vourite of his.poor mother; the laughing eyed young pet of a—pshaw; of a.i old fool; lor why am I crying.’ Little .Mary Wad insensibly drawn hcrsell 'towards the old philosopher, and, without ut t. ring a word, pressed his hand and put her handkerchief to his eyes. The boy i.Bo now : h ft Ins parent, walked up to bis grandfather, and, leaning ins elbow oa the old man’s knees, and turning up his round cheek, said, ‘then you won’t take papa away ?’ ‘No!you little impudent ra.-enl; but I’ll I take you away ; and when your mother comes ! for you, 1 will treat her ;o well, that l il make i your father follow after.’ Tims came happiness at the heels of ruin. Ilf husbands of' in r appreciated the exqui ; site and In uvon-hke affection of their wives, ! many happier fin sides would be seen. One in lore and one in mind, ought to be the motto of every married pair. And l athers would j many times check improvidence, if they w< re I to make use of affection and kindness rather | than prejudice and strictness.-*. Frcm the Casket, THE OI L) FERRYM AN’S TALE. Upon my return from the south, where bu siness had called me, my way led me again through the beautiful iiitle village of “l’leas smt Hill,” on the Kentucky river. It was spring—and I made rny journeys so that J would be able to reach the place about nun down, when l could observe the taste and beauty with which, 1 had been told, the “Sha kers” invariably lay out their gardens. I chose that time of day, when the brilliant rays of the sun would be softened down, and give to the landscape a deeper, but more lovely and enchanting appearance. 1 was not disappoin ted in my expectations. There, before me, extended the beautiful cultivated fields and pastun s aud gardens and orchards, as far as the eye could reach, until they were mellow ed down into the glorious coloring of a set ting sun horizon. II: re. the white and red clover, covering whole acres, gave forth a most delicious fragrance, from which came the perpetual hum of the busy bee, loth to leave her work, even with the declining sun ; and now and then, someone more fortunate than the rest, w ould buzz past me : Invest bur dened with the weight of sweets she was bearing to her storehouse. In the distance, the large full-fed herds of cattle were lazily rccliningon the rich carpet beneath them, or sending forth their call to the tardy ini lk - I maid. The straw berry lifted up its modest ! head from beneath tire young tender grass, and the luxuriant honey-sucklc was climbing over fence and arbor, and uniting its tender tendrils with those of the delicious grape, which was now bursting its beautiful leaf,and writing into loveliness. The mild rose and sweet briar, aud sweet scented shrub were not want lug ; nor the voluptuous looking tu lip, modest, although arrayed in its splendid dress. Th orchards were swelling with tin ir buds and-blossoms, evidence of a com ing burden of fruit—and the fields gave a glorious prospect o.uii ample coming harvest. I could have looked and admired for hours, but my horse stopping, roused me from my meditations, and I found myself at the door of the very same house at which I had stop ped a year before, and found my bridle fa ken by the self same individual by whom I bid been ferried across the river at the same time. He had been transferred from the ferry to the tavern on account of his age, and a youn ger person placed in his stead. I was de light.. and at the chance or prov idencc which had thrown me again with the man from whom J hoped to receive some useful information,and who might amuse me with some tale of by gone days. I was not disappointed. After arranging the little business which a travel ler has always to do upon stopping for the night. I took my seat in the porch of tnc house, and my old friend sat him down be side me. Wc were talking on the occurren ces of the day, when i was suddenly startled by tiie sound of a voice, singing some plain tive hit; I listened,and found the voice tube that of a young man, chanting with a rich, clear, impressive tong, the following beauti ful lines. “To mark thy strength each hour decay, and yet thy hopes grow Stronger, As filled with Heaven-ward trust, they say,earth may not claim thee longer, Nay ! dearest, ’tis too much,this heart must break when thou art gone, It must not. be, we may not part, I could not live alone.” I had hoard these lines before, but never had l heard anything that so absorbed ah my feelings* M lien the voice came to the words •• This heart must break when thou art gone,” there was so much melancholy, such a deep, agonizing burst of sobbing came from the singer, that it thrilled every nerve of my bo dy ! I felt powerless f —l felt—l cannot tell how 1 felt. 1 listened for more, hut I could only gather tiie last line, as with tremulous, quivering voice he concluded “ 1 could live alone.” If cvyr there were a human being that could have liVard those Words as I hoard th-m; that voiec as 1 heard it.-those sobs of an guisii, so wo-begone, so dreary, and have not heei: affected, not have shuddered,it was more than i could be. I knew not the person, nor the cause of grief, but sorrow I knew there must be, deep, lie Tt-rending sorrow ; and as tin good old f ernman beside me tried to con- j ceil] a tear, that, in spite of him, trickled down his face, I caught the infection; by gone years flitted past me in painful roineni-' brance. “Fond memory brought the light of! other days around me,” cud 1 wept. After i we both had become more composed, I iuqui- j red of friend Styles (for so was n:v compan-j ion called) if he knew tiie individual so of-! feetcil ? “Yea,” answered ho, “ his name isj George Iluutrr, we designate hint among us i hv either his paternal or Christian name,friend j George being the most commoii.” Ho serins! to he laboring under some mental anguish ;■ has he met with misfortune ? “Yea, he has such as few men moot w ith, and still fewer feci as exquisitely as he dors.” Are you ac quainted with his history ! I inquired—“ Yea j i believe 1 am, or at least with so much of it as w ill gratify your ouriosily to hear. George j Hunter is, I belieie, a native lVmisylvanian; about two yerrs ago he passed through this' place, journeying to the South, where busi ness for his father httff taken hit;:. Whil tarrying in some little villages in Tennessee, In; 1> came attached to a hcautifij little gi:k then about fifteen years of age,*vhotn lie had j accidentally seen at the house of a friend.— i Ho called frequently upon her afterwards at in r futhi r’s, and suffice it to say, they became engaged. I knew In r father intimately, and j | a more worthy man never lived; and his; j daughter seemed to have possessed ail his amiable qualities. \\ e bad become ncquaiu j ted in our yoiiugi r days, and wc still keep ;up an occasional correspondence. \ oil will ! not expect an old man who has throw n by I the gaieties of the w orld, and-w ho, from his | long intimacy with his society, may he ex pected to have had his heart seared to all the allurements and luxury of social intercourse ;to dwell upon tiie personal charms of Miss ; Marv .Mayland : she was beautiful, cxqms ; indy beautiful, and what is rare, yea, a won ! d< r, she was a good girl, unaffected with any I species of vanity ; so modest, so artless, so amiable, so kind and affectionate, that it made my eld frozen up heart glad to see her smile, and hear her clear, silvery voice. Hut ,1 have left iny story. Well, George left Ik r, to visit his friends in Pennsylvania, intend ing to return for her in the course of the com ing spring. He did so, and they were inar | rii and with consent of all their friends. Alrout : three weeks ago,George Hunter and his young bride stopp: and here on thtir journey to his pa rents. I knew him when he rode up, and was introduced to his lady. You know the rules jof our society forbid man and wife to be in I that capacity while they remain with us. 1 was sorry they had to be separated, for thefc j bcatnr. and so much affection from her soft lovely i ye, increased by being overshadowed b) its long dark silken lash ; and so much tender ness from his, tlint I wished the young peo ple happy, am! sorry was 1 to be the instru ment of causing the first shade of unhappi. ness either had seen. They continued with us all the r.ext day, examining our garden and our houses, and seemingly admiring cvc erv thing which usually attracts strangers. — On that night, however, through fatigue pro bably, the lady was attacked with billions fe ver. llovv he watched by her bed side, an ticipated every want, noted each change ol feature, it i* not necessary to say. Else con tinued to decline hourly, although the best medical assistance was procured-, but all to no purpose. On the eveffing of the eighth day, (lie Physician declared she was dying ! I was horrified! for 1 had occasionally gone into the room to carry some little r.eccsnries for her comfort. 1 iiad not expected it, or rather lioping the best, l anticipated the host. 1 can never forget the look of anguish, of heart bro ken despair, which George Hunter exhibited when informed of the physician’sjudgcment! he wept like a child ! But for his wife, 1 never had witnessed such composure, such resignation to the divine will, in any human being before ; and now i saw the pale emaciated luce Of that beautiful girl ; when 1 saw the rich black eye sunken almost in death, and the skeleton fingers worn down by sickness, nor heard one murmur from her lips although suffering the severest pain, I was ashamed of myself for having so often mur ! mured at the ways of Providence. A minis -1 ter from a neighboring town had called in to ! see her occasionally, and now, his presence j was most anxiously looked for ; he arrived at length, and seating himself on a chair near the bed-side, the pious man spoke to her a bout the concerns of her immortal part : her auswt rs were go iovv that 1 could only now and then catch a syllable. Several of the sisters of our society were present, for they [ had all become deeply interested in her situ- I ation. The divine tool, from his pocket a I small hymn book, and opening it, gave out j with a clear, impressive though affected j \ oice, these lines : “My flesh shall slumber in the ground, TiU the last trumpet’s joyful sound. Then burst the chains with sweet Surprise, And m my Savior’s image rise - ” If you have never heard our females sing, you can have no idea of the rich, full, clear notes that some of them utter ; and the pres ent mournful occasion had altered the voice of each to a most melancholy, delicious vo luptuousness. When they had sung the first two lines, Mary whispered her husband to kneel by tier; lie did so, and taking her hands | in his, he unburthened his soul to his Maker. Between sobs and groans 1 could distinguish ; part of Ills prayer. “ Omnipotent, but still merciful Father, thou scest before thee a sinner lugging thy mercy for a dearly beloved wife. Physician of the soul, heal her? But, if in thy inscruta ble Providence thou takest her awav, Saviour of mankind fit her for lit r passage, and let me bow in humble submission to thy will.” All were affected to tears. The hymn died awav, the singers not being able to finish it. The minister laid down his book, and folding his arms over it, laid down his head, and wept audibly! When he bad finished his prayer, his wife threw her emaciated skeleton arms around his neck, and drew him convulsively to her,and I heard her sav, “George, thou art all this poor heart clings to—dearest hus band, when 1 am gone, go back and tell iny mother that Ace‘little Mary’is dead ; toll iny lather that his little Mary has gone to h r Fa ther in Heaven ! One kiss dear George, farewell!” She drew him still more con vulsively to her, and pr< ssing her lips to his 'ter innocent soul was with her Saviour. ' “ I wish I was not a child,” said the good old Ferryman, after a long pause, in which he held his hands to his furrowed, weather bea ten face, and vainly tried to smother his sobs.: “1 never can think of the last hour of that' lovely innocent being, hut my ‘old eyes tr ii, tales on my womanish heart.’ 'Well, the! morrow oittne, when she was to be interred. The news of her death had collected together the tin mhers of our own little community,and j a great many of our neighbors. She was eon-! roved to her last dreary home—George i 1 mi- i ter following without any outward badge of: mourning, save the black handkerchief which he held to his eyes. The coffin was lowered ! into the grave, and the minister went through, the simple, artless burial service. A prayer! was said,and the last sad duty of covering! the dead was but commenced—the first clod) hid but njouri.fully tumbled on tile coffin, when George Hunter fainted and (..•!! j back in*o the arms ofilic hystand< r . ii recovered, but he was a— maniac ! We raised a plain marble stone over her remains, with the beautiful inscription, i Slic’a “(.no, -i “ Where never care or p ia. £hull reach her innocent heart again.” Ar THE CHAMBER OF DEATH i . I have heard, The spirits cf the dead may w all: again : If such tiling be, —— Appeared to me last night non at are, ! Sometimes her head on one side, 3ome on ether, 1 never saw a vessel, cf iike sorrow i So filled and so becoming: in pure white robes, i Like very sanctity she did approach. J Vinter's Tate. In the pc r formal if r of our duty towards our fellow men, wc arc frequently called upon to act in capacity s, from which we won!.! rat Ik r 1 withdraw, in cons qucnec of those feelings, j natural to every one, which make distinctions between w hat arc L rmed the agreeable am. the disagreeable. These distinctions are a-* frequeniy placed where they should not be, ; and without a reference to certain inward sensations, which give a east of pleasure even to disagreeable duties, from the more cou i sciolism ss of the performance of duty. It ss a pleasing and a healthful glow, which spread itsi.-lf over our every thought and actum, ami as the sensation passes off’, leaves the mind in that state of delightful serenity, which is characterized by a disposition of good w ill, and charitable feelings toward the whole hu man race.—Of that description of duty is that which requires) the performance of the last offices of friendship, in watching-over the. re mains of a follow mortal. It is one of thosi i which consists in what the world calls disa j greeabie; and yet one which a sense of duty i reconciles to our mind as agreeable, j 1 was once, and once only called upon t< j act in this capacity. It was on occasion of ; the death of one of iny nearest friends, w hom • l shall distinguish by the name of Makion ; ; and while 1 relate his brief, but melancholy : memoir, let none cast upon it the bitter smile ! of contempt, because it associates with it i that brightest and holies of all human pas j sions—l.ovc ! It is a common remark That tltis passion in our day, “ carries with it nq ; broken heart.” But the story of iny fiend I though of recent date bears contradiction on its front to such opinions. Marion was a man ! I will not pretend to a greater Eulogy. I will not call him in the usual style of such relations—“ the noblest cl ! his sex ;” but only say—he was a man ! j He had early become enamoured with a ; lady worthy of him in every respect- lie lov ed and was beloved in return; hnd I appeal | to any heart, whether the summit of happiness j can be attained if it do not exist under such i circumstances. I A long acquaintance had served to endear! ! him to the object of his affection, w hile thc-j I loss of her natural protectors only increased I ; his passions, since it rendered him still more j ; conscious of the charge, which circumstances,' 1 as well as his own will, had placed upon him. i The time had almost arrived which was to : unite them, when death, that subtle and heart less tyrant, which preys upon beauty and j youth with as much zest as upon age aud tig-! : lines?, snatched her from him. I will not enter further into detail than tui i remark that such was the effect wrought upon j liis mind by this event, that a few months ! seemed to reduce him to such a state of bodi ly exhaustion that death alone could relieve ! him of his suffering. It was on this occa sions I was called on to act in the capacity ! above alluded to. Others had been appoint ) ed to join with me in the duty, hut by some 1 accident I was left alone to a :t. As if in ac- I corilancc with the melancholy occasion, a ! single lamp alone glimmered in the chamber j and east a doleful light on the surrounding j objects. I am not naturally a coward. Supcr j stition has no hold on my mind. Supernatu \ ral events, or such as arc usually so termed, I bear no sway over rue in thought or action.— j Yet from some cause, accountable only by the : fact cf having lost my rest for some nights previous, a continued tremor and anxiety per- I vaded me. The corpse as it laid, with face ! uncovered, and prepared for burial, continu l ally attracted my eyes. At last, wearied with ! my own thoughts, 1 sat down besides the bier,! 1 resolved to gaze on that face 1 had known in j ] happier hours, amt endeavor thus to satisfy j the apparent longing of my sight. The hours wc had passed in each other’s I j society, the happy moments of his love, his ! : loudness for the object of that love, all flitted ! Iby me, borne on memory’s silken wings.— j | “ Marion,” thought I, “thy race lias been; [ short, but virtuous.. Thou wilt not be re-j ! mcnibercd, for thy deeds of chivalry; hut j thy honorable career and thy luckless fate, j w ill hold a place in the memory of thy friends j which time will only serve to render morel clear to u.s.” Thus ran the current of mv mind, and I still gazed on the pallid features j of death when a female figure entering the; room, caused some interruption; sho was) dressed in a pure w bite habiliment, anti seem- j cd prepared for a bridal ceremony ruthrr than for a visit to tbe “Chamber of death.”—i A ghastly rigidity marked her features, over which a cast of sadness was remarkable. “ rihe approached the bier, and bending ever ! it, she gently laid hold of the arm of the corpse, j and with a pallid smile, whispered, “ Come, ! Marion, why sleep ye ? aln ady the beams ol I j our bridal morn are abroad ; Come ! the guests j ! arc all met,” and she gently drew back to- 1 : wards (lie door, and disappeared,still sounding i i the name of “ Marion, Marion, come ! come i :io our bridal.” I rushed forward to pursue j ! the object of this visitation, and only then j perceived, that I had slept until the first ravs i j of morning light began slightly to iiluminatt *! I the chamber. The v i: ion is still impressed upon my mind j with all the vividness of a recent trairsiaetinq, i i and I never hear < l a bridal ilisappointmoqt}) without a riTtinenee to my mind of the fide : of my friend Marion. ROLAND. -*CV>- Litl-ru. Construction. —The President G tho Missouri Senate would Rot allow the door of i tho House to be closed in the coldest weather? last vv inter, bieanse the ConsiituticaToqitirts that' each House shall L: wg? rfra-r. I • “Our fir-:, beat country, ever is nt Ik me!” ! Tin r‘ is a magic in the word home— a s, Ci., 11! at rivets the heart and buries every rccoLcc-1 tio:i in that one hallowed thought. Fhcre are ! ] tics that connect i:s to it, never to ho broxen j ! tin re are reineuihr.mees clinging around itt. love to dwell upon. The humbic shed where ■ ; first the infant drew Ids lire: th of lilY, tsmbn ; i precious to the heart, than is the splendor of { oalaccs to the exile v. ho tastes not the joys oi i home, lovely home! wamHr whore we tnay, a I lings ring desire is still d*fth rs. Ihc nt.r.ic j lions of home ar i no v. lure else, ihe lire sale ! at which wy have so often told our winter tales • —th.- familiar objects that hung about us; (In • tongue}! that were wont to warble tlu ir swci I accents and bear a wt 'iconic with the first n ish of the Sk art —arc when away seen not in its j cheerfulnce-; look: and but in vain; hoard in no i whisper—felt bv no feeling! Home has a thou sand charms with it. Every spot is familiar, and brings back to memory some pleasurable j events: Davs long gone by—scenes never to I return, are once more Ik fore the mind and ! with their fond delusions entertain in all reali ties exstacy. The old man puts down his crutch ; when he remembers the day s of ins boyhood, the hale.on time of play, rnd tells over his youthful frolics with all the assisting ob jects of inemorv about him, and thinks that he is vigor ous enough to react them. Tne young lightly sport, with no ear: to mar their pleasure. The j sunshine of contentment ! rightly sank s upon them, and they reap a golden harvest of joy! it is at 1 kin in we can gaze upon the reciprocal j feeling—it is there wc delight in the tender cx ; changes of affectionate sympathy—it is there i wc look upon the lnotlu r watching her infafit uid nourishing it with liquid pccrl-guardiug : slumbers in anxious hope, and rearing it to • proud manhood, it is there that we can feci j tiie misfortunes of others, because linked to ! our own hearts —it is there that wc are permit - ted to condemn folly, to pity weakness, to re ward and emulate virtue. 1; is there the heart ■ lives and never departs from! But let us go from ) home and what sparks of real joy do wo foci? | Every object mound us is.strange—wc soon j become sickened with them, and the heart I turns again to home. There have wc those that 1 love us: those whose hind assiduities wc have j - often experii need .; ti.osp v\ ho pcrhnj s have 1 watched us on a sick bed with tend;, rest care— tlio?-' to whom we are allied by the best and i first tics of nature, those who foci our woes | and are ever ready to r licve our wants! ( an j we (hen turn away from such charms? Can wc , i forget that they are inseparable with the heart > and ought we willingly to desert them in pur j suit only of nominal happiness? Southern Chronicle. DESCRIPTION OF LAWYERS. I'v Dlb'.X Sw Il'T. “ There is a society of men among us, bred | up from the ir youth in ilie art of proving*by 1 words multiplied for the purpose, that white; i is bl ack, and black is white, according as j | they are paid. To this society all the rest, of j the people arc slaves. For example, if iny ; I neighbor has a mind to my cow, lie lias a law- j yer to prove that he ought to have my cow | from me. I must then hire another to de fend my right, it being against al! rules of law,! that any man should be allowed to speak for ! j himself. Now in this case, I, who am the j ■ right owner, lie under two great disadvanta-1 j go. : first, my lawyer, being practised almost from his cradle in defending falsehood, is | quite out of his element when he would bean advocate for justice, which is an unnatural of- j fine he always attempts with great awkward- j ness, if not with iH will. The second dis- ! advantage is, that my lawyer must proceed • with great caution, or else he will be repri manded by the judges, and abhorred by his! brethren, as one that would lessen the prac-: tice of the law. And therefore I have but ! two methods to preserve my cow. The first; is to gain over iny adversary’s lawyer with a 1 double fee, who will then betray his client bv ; insinuating, that he has justice on his sido.-E The second way is, for my lawyer to make the cause appear as unjust as he can,and allowing the cow to belong to my adversary : and this if it bo skillfully done, certainly bespeaks the favor of the bench. Now your honor is to know, that these judges are persons ap pointed to decide all controversies of proper ! ty as well as for the trial of criminals, and ! picked out from the most dexterous lawyers, ; who are grown old and lazy, and having been ! biassed all their lives against truth and equi . ty, lie under such a fatal necessity of favoring j 1 fraud, perjury, and oppression, that 1 have : known seme of them refuse a large bribe front 1 I the side v. lu re justice lay, rather than injure i the fact !ty, by doing any thing unbecoming, \ their nature or their office, i “It is a maxim among these lawyers, that! | whatever has been clone before, may legally i | be . one again; and therefore they take spe- ! cial care to record all the decisions formerly* j made against common justice,.and the genet'- j al reason of mankind. Those, under the 1 name of precedent,?, .they produce as authori-! ties to justify the most iniquitous opinions i ; ar, d the judges never fail of directing accord ingly. “Inpleading, they studiously avoid tutcr ing into t!ic merits of the cause; but are loud, violent, an,l tedious in dwelling noon cl!circumstances which are not t, ( tp e pur pose. For instance, in the cause a!r, ,uh mentioned they never desire to know what claim or title my adversary ] ias j 0 lnv cow '. !mt whether the said cow were red or lilucle • her horns long or short ; whether the field J graze her in be round or square; whether she was milked at home or abroaj ; v. hat disease she 13 subject to, ami the like; after which fit';- consult precedents, adjourn the cause (rom time'to time, n:id in ten, twenty, or thir ty Veaj^ 4 cAnm to an i.Mic. “.It i li-i,"\.t,m to Ik; observed, that this: society has a peculiar cant and u.-on of i Uncrown. that m otln r mortal can unilt r-' stand,-?md wherein nil their Jaws a-,. v rit I tern, which thev take special care tomnltinly, u.wieh} t:i. \ have v.liody et.r founded ‘ the m >' ' ' Clirv <*'•’* -■'■'id falschcotl, of rights ' i' "iil take thirty vm.rs) t" decide, w hellu r the tic id loft me bv'm'y an-1 ecshns to r mx gem rations belongs to me, or! to a stranger three hundred miles off. “ In die trial of p, rsons accused for crimes | against the f into, the method is much more! short and commendable ;t!ie j mitre fi r q to round the dispo .... ftlt p<nVf r , cf ; ter which he can easily hung t r < !V c : I nr.!, strictly | reserving all du.o form A fl “ L't all pomts out ol their own ,- a A ■ are usually Lw most ignorant and snA fl ( rat.on among os, the n.ot ,1 common conversation, avow ed “ c knowledge ami fcorning, arid outdh ml to prevent the g< nor,a! reason , ; f •fl in ov< ry othc r subject of discourse. A i ■ fl of : Ik ir own profi ssiou.” 8 .'nui the tlurries ten CELEBRATION K cr run 8 ; r if V-fJin A thrrsari/ of .' I denre in Vtuirleslon. ' " ihe dawn was ushered in bv the f.;„ K : cannon, and the ringing of bells'; :;n i .‘'‘' !l: fl j out .iic day, at bno* intervals, various .' 8 j motif tuiKS were chimed on the i rih'/fl 1 Micliu; l's Chureli. B d’he i’uiirtii Briga’le, under Gen. Y.\x^, ' itouni', a: >, lubleil A o’clock in tiie. ■ | w;.s rev it well by the Govt rnor, at G marched to the liatti r on East Ivav. aii'i|E’B nr: and a salute, :iw\jeu ,!e joic~‘he[' A" 1 cd thence to South Bay, and up' u., I sirct t to the Brigade ground, where them ■ wore dismissed. 8 Fur some days prey ions, the weather ■ been wet and disagreeable, and on tin I*),! I* rain, foil at int< r.vaJs tlm.ughoia the a n - '**'B 1 he preparations for the cci bration'ei f I day, made by the two great parties, i irc(| .‘,‘| out at'an early hour,- nearly the whole ir'fl propitiation oi the city, and before teno’cC fl masses of citizens, friendly to, auddetcir"B led to preserve-tim Union, wire moving ‘Z I i wards tiie .Market?, in Aiaikct.ireet° th" I ' l‘ lac< -’ distinguished lor the assembling 0 f r' I ! L nion i’arty. ° "l .litre the vast multitude gathered toc-the- I with pure hearto and unshaken finum-" I was great beyond the calculation of the j.„V 1 'sanguine. I • At an early period it was found necevr-1 to appoint a(klitu*mil .Marshals,and toll: iIAVK.NKI., VliXMl- i’cKdlJ.R and Tueodow. ' '.vii.l.v!?i>, Esqrs. were added Euwaicd y,. I Cii.vov and Thomas Coruett, jr. Esqrs. I about 11 o’clock, a procession was organize I which in point of numbers and respecibtlm I of individual aharactcr, lias never, pe'rhafo been eipialled by any civic procession eve' I formed in Charleston. * I 1 i.’K w.i! admit us to give mere tip J a brief sketch of what occured through tl> I day ; but as tin. Commit t e of Arrangements l will, at tiie earliest possible period, furnish ! a lull and particular account of the proceed. ings the subject will again be adverted to. Y.e shall, therefore, only state at present, that the procession was formed in the order a previously published. The twenty-four stewards of the day in front, each Steward bearing a blue silk banner, on which was in. scribed the name of a State, and an appropri. ate motto. Next followed the national banner cf the lnion, botne by an officer, supported on the right and left by Col Jacob Sass and Solojiox Leg.vkjs, Esqrs. two revolutionary soldiers, both of whom were at the siege cr' Savannah. About sixty youths, having ips ly organized themselves, rcqmsfed to beat!, mitted into the procession, and although such a nievement was not asked or expected bv tin Committee of Arangi. meats, they were re ceived and formed next to the national flag, in (he rear of the youths, about 60 or TOshiu masters ami other seamen were formed in couples, and banners on which were the names of our most conspicuous Naval Cem manders and Naval Battles, were borne bv re sident ship masters. Next to these were the citizens of the Union and State Rights l’urty, the younger in front and elder in the rear, comprising a large majority of the phys ical power in the industrious classes, awl of die intelligence and solid independence of all classes. This part of the procession wa ve ry numerous, and evinced the deep feeling which pervades the minds of our substantial citizens on the important topics which agitate our State; and evidenced a “determination on the part of the people to frown down every attempt to dissolve this Union, from whatever quarter ii may proceed, or by whatever patri otic name it may be decorated.” A portion of the citizens carried banners, on which was inscribed the names of battles fought during the Revolution, and in the late Whir—Fort Moultrie and Bunker Hill were borne by the first couple, and following these were a Nor thern and Southern, carried conjointly throughout the line. Following th citizen**, were the fYncm - fee of Arogerr jrds, thirteen in number, con forming to l ! at of t lie otig'nal bfates. Nr:/ were the fi /cigu Consuls residents in Charh s ton, deer rated with the badges cf their ic-, spectiv<i officers. Af* or these came distinguished citizen; --, gtie its invited •from various parts of the State, tc join with h? in the celebration of qwr Nr cion’s Independence— ‘lndependence which cannot exist Without Uuie;:, and v-i ti, it, u-. eternal. ’i’lien came the Uonßcripl FathnVof (Ir Revolution, a goodly number of that patriot band, vvlio by their presence an 1 ;fi* spirit which aiiimrrttrt'fliern, reminded us A die blood and treasure which which cur fregdet'i cost, and warned us of our duty to transmit it unimpaired fo our prostM ritv. j J ollovvingtho h’uldiers of the i., were the < 'lergy„ and tlmn the Vjct-Pr, - dents, tweniy.four in nutnht r, each lvjm■: th ing a State of our Federal Fnion.. In tin- rear of the main body of flic ff Presidents, was (hurral D-.niii, lit M-it IfveSKit, appointed to r< ad tho Farewell Ad dress of Washington, supported |> . Dr, Wx. 1 Head, l.r- t \ icc-President of the day, and N ice-Prer.ident ot the C.neinnati Society oi J .South Carol inti. Ami in their rear, wrs the I Ton. J vxits K Frikole, Infendtint of the City, Fn s.dent o' the l)av, ami the lion. WA;. !.'■;; v>. i< vd Va.or* 'i ho proto -sign was closed hv the Secret.i-- ry of the Connnittec of Arrangements, heat ing the bannerol the party, with appropriate devices. The two hands of mtrsic were placed at proper distsnet e. Aho proct ssion form'd a sublime and ii.v* p*f.ingspectacle, it was a spontaneous move ntoiit. by tlie people, uninfluenced by grand)’ 1 1 1 V 1. all'! U U",V. V fj- •)' mr. II 4 •