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“A poet's hand and prophet's fire,
••.Struck the wild warbiings ei his lyre.
From ike N e i orfc American.
BOLLNQBROKE.
“But the star cf Lord Bolingbroke was no lon
ger in the ascendant. lie could not mingle in
public life, and in the scenes of festivity around
which his presence once shed a fascinating charm
he passed almost unnoticed. 'J“ was emphatic
ally alone, and had he not at length found a holi
er source of happiness, would have gone down to
the grave, a gloomy awl disappointed man.’’
He stood alono—where bright eyes shone
YV ithia the lighted hall.
And there no long remember'd tone
Did on his spirit fall.
The idoliz'd of other
Swept by him in the dance,
But not for him were words of praise,
Or beauty’s thrilling glance.
He walked alone—the path he trod
Was shunned, as if a spell
Rested upon the very sod
On which his footsteps fell.
No hand was there to scatter flowers
Upon his lonely way;
Those he had loved in boyhood’s hours—
They, too, had shrunk away.
He wept Bone —no voice was near
To bid his sorrow cease,
To dry the m. unier’s bitter tear,
And whisper hope and peace,
lie as-k’d it not—there is a pride
Within the wounded heart,
That, like the dj ing dove, would hide
The keen and poison'd dart.
He knelt alone—what then to him
Were all the scolfs of men 1
The star of faith no more was dim,
Anil little reck’d he then
Of aught save that bright world above,
Beyond the clear blue sky,
W here ail is joy, and peace, and love—
liis better home on high.
Oh, not alone arc those, who find
That gifts cf purest worth.
The gems of the immortal mind,
Can find no home on earth.
W hy should the gifted ever bend
Before Ambition’s throne—
And find, when Life’s vain changes end,
Themselves indeed alone ?
SHE IS GONE AND FOR EVER.
There arc feet on the mountains,
And songs on the air,
And dances by the fountain—
But thou ar© not there !
There are galleys on the waters,
Spirits of the sea ;
G reece is gathering her daughters—
But we look for thee !
AVe listen to the chorus
Of the sweet and fair.
And they dance on before us—
But than are not there ?
The village girls are singing
Their glad evening lay,
Flowers round them flinging—
But thou art away !
The elders are numbering
The gills as they run.
Some bright one is slumbering—
There wanteth but one !
There wild grass is covering
A tomb stone bare,
And a bird is hovering—
Sweet 1 tbou art there !
. SONG.
A waml’ror long in Hope’s bright world,
A pilgrim (otiiat shrine,
Where vows arise, and sacrifice
The world’s gay dream and mine;
And now I return like the iveary-wing’J bird,
From its waud’ring again to its nest,
And seek in tiie scenes of ray cirildhood & peace,
For the isolate pilgrim’s rest.
The hand of friendship I have grasp'd
And have found many toes ;
Have seen of love and hate the train
Of passions they disclose;
I’ve seen bright eyes—nay, I will say
Those eyes have glanced on me,
J’vn felt their force, hut still ’twas vain,
T;i> t • Icr still w&sfrte.
I’ve basked in radiant sutmv bowers,
Have dreamt in grove3 ot' bloom.
And my visions have teem’d w ith the spirits of
bliss,
While my sr-irte has inhaled rich perfume;
But I fly from then*all, each delight I forsake,
Mo longer they v ield charms to me ;
Mo !—perish thetnouglrt—lhave one joy in view,
And,dearest, that rapture in thee.
A MOTHER’S GRIEF,
A sketch from life.
To mark the sufferings of the babe
That Cannot mark its woe :
To sec thL infant tears gush forth.
Yet know not why they How :
* To m*et tho meek uplifted eye,
Ttyat fain would ask relief,
Yet can but toll of agony—
This is a mother's grief!
To sec, in one short hour decayed,
The hope of future years :
To feel how vain a father’s prayers,
How vain a mother's tears :
To think the cold grave now must close
O’er w hat was, onco, the chief
Of all the treasured joys of earth.
This is a mother's grief.
Yet, when the first wild throb is past
Of anguish and despair
To lift the eye of faith to heaven,
“wy child is there-,"
This best can dry the gushing tears,
Thin ylehts the iicart relief,
Until this Christian's pious hope
.O’eroeinc a mother's grief!
- 1 *■' - ---- r ~
A Good Comparison —'l’he late George
Column being once told that a man, whose
character wa3 not very immaculate, had gross
ly abuacd him, pointedly remarked, that°“the
vcandul and ill report ypf some persons were
like <i*iW earth; it daubs your coat a
litlk lor a time, but w hen it is rubbed off
jur coat is so much the cleaner.”
THE MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULT
■run an si
From the N. Y. Constellation.
ART OF SELLING.
Among the innumerable arts with which
this artful world abounds, the art of selling is
by no means the least. It is indeed a very
universal art; for most people have occasion
for its use more or les3 during their lives. —
Wc do not speak of that higher traffic of sell
ing consciences, smiles, good offices, and
places under government. We say nothing
of bartering affections for gold, or honor for
power. We shall confine ourselves to the
every day art ol' selling, as practiced among
our merchants and tradesmen.
No art is required jn selling to such persons
eg arc really in want of the article to be dis
posed of. They require no urging to buy ;
they want no persuasion to do that which they
are prepared to do. It is only those who
have no occasion to purchase, with whom the
art of selling is to bo employed. To make
people purchase what they do not want, and
what they arc previously resolved not to buy,
is the perfection of the art of soiling.
This art consists of several branches. The
first is, to n.*.ke people believe they are in
want of the article offered, in spite of all evi
dence to the contrary. The second is, to
persuade them that the article is wonderfully
cheap, and therefore they should pure!.nse it,
whether they want it or no. And the third
is, to fill them with the idea, that though they
may not want it at present, it vvii! be for
their interest to purchase it against the time
of need. So that by hook or bv crook a pur
chaser may be gained, ami the seller may dis
pose of his goods.
In order to effect this desirable object, it is
considered important to display the wares or
merchandize to the be3t advantage. This is
particularly observable among the retailors of
dry goods ami of jewelry—of silks and mus
lins, of ribbond.i and trinkets. A most judi
cious display is made by arranging them at the
doors and windows, and exhibiting them in
glass cases. Some of these cases being in
laid with mirrors, display the shining articles
manifold, to the admiration of the eye and
the temptation of the heart. Thus, though
silent the goods seem to say to every beholder,
buy ! buy !
But the skilful seller does not trust alone to
this general and silent appeal. He is not
chary of his labor, nor a niggard ofliissn.iies.
He heaps the counter with goods in the great
est profusion, lie takes down from the shelves
whatsoever you cast your eye upon ; and
hands from the drawers such things as you
never dreampt of. Yon beg that he will not
trouble himself, as you have no design to ex
tend your purchases. He assures you, it is
no trouble at all—not the least. He will
charge you nothing for looking at the goods.
But the sly gentleman means to make you pay
for it nevertheless.
Dropping into a dry goods store the other
morning ala Paul Pry, we heard a lady say
ing—“ Don’t lay any things on the counter,
Mr. Leno—l shan’t purchase another article
to-day.”
Why dear madam, wc dont ask you to pur
*\houo, iho smiling Mr. Limn, still
spreading out more goods—“we merely wish
to show you what we’ve got.”
“ This Lace, is very beautiful,” said the
lady.
“ Isn’t it beautiful now?” said the retailer.
—“ I knew you’d say so as soon as you saw it
—there’s not another such a piece in tbe
market. We got it on purpose to supply some
of our most esteemed customers, among
which wc have the pleasure of numbering
you. ma’am.” A polite bow and an irresistible
smirk.
“It is certainly very firm—very indeed;
but I think I can get equally as good at Mr.
jackouet’s.”
“ Oh-h-h ! no touch to it, ma’am—no more
like it than hrmvn Holland to cambric linen.
Oii-h, no ma’am, yoifcl permit me to know
something about it. I’ve seen the article, and
it’s altogether different from ours—-not the
same kind of goods by any means. W’e pur
chased this, when things were cheap; but
now, Lord ! we couldn’t replace it with twice
tho money.”
“ All tiiat may be true, Mr. Leno—and to
be sure you ought to know if any body; but
really, sir, I dont want the article.”
“ I wouldn't urge you to buy it, ma’am by
any means; but rpaliy it is so cheap, and you
| inay not have another opportunity to supply
yourself on such terms those two years—per
haps never.”
“ Why, that is true indeed, Mr. Lono, and
on second thoughts I dont know but 1 may as
well take a couple of yards or so.”
“ Had’nl you better take tiie whole piece ?
It's a pity tocut it, and I’am sure you'll never
regret your bargain.” *
“ Perhaps not—l think I’ll take the
whole.”
The lace was put up, the money paid and
the lady took her leave. As she was going
out at the door, Mr. Lone exchanged glances
with his partner, as much as to say—We’ve
made a hundred percent on that article.
Being satisfied with Mr. Leno, wc quitted
his premises, and popped into a jeweller’s
shop. A lady had just finished making some
trifling purchases, and was about taking her
leave, when a most nielitiuous voice from be
hind the counter said.
“ Any thing else to-day, ma’am ?”
“ Nothing els.-,” returned the lady—“good
morning, sir.”
“Let me show* you some splendid ear-rings
—an article I have just imported——a most su
perb specimen of the very latest fashion.”
“Dont give yourself any trouble to show
them, Mr. Trinket.”
“I dont value the trouble ma’am.”
“There’s no uoo in taking them out, Mr.
Trinket—l sha’nt purchase.”
“Oh, by no means ma’am-F dont ask you to
purchase. 1 merely wish to show you the
goods, that's all. T here's no harm in looking
at them you know.”
“\1 ell I cart look at them, if that's all; but
I assure vou—”
“An’t they spb ndid ?”
“Splendid! Why, they are decent per-,
haps."
“Decent ! Oil! dear madam, they’re splen
did—superb, nothing like them. Why, mad
atn, they are of the royal stamp—precisely
such as Queen Adelaide wears.”
“Does she indeed ! Does the Queen of Eng
land wear them ?”
“They’re the real Adelaide jewels, I do
assure you. Just slip one of them into your
ear, ma’am.”
“There’s no use in it,Mr. Trinket —I can’t
possibly purchase.”
“But there’s no harm in seeing how they
look you know.”
“That’s true—but I would’nt have you think
I’ve any idea of buying them.”
“There ! there! now look at yourself in the
glass. Isn’t it pretty ?
“Why, it is very pretty I must confess.
Queen Adelaide no doubt has a fine ta3te in
jewels.”
“Now just try the other, if you please.—
You can’t see them to advantage, without hav
ing them both in your ears.”
“I can try the other, just to please you—
but f tell you again I sha’nt purchase.”
“There now! ma’am, look at yourself once
more in the glass.”
“They’re charming upon my word !”
“Indeed they are, and you look divinely in
them, too. Queen Adelaide herself could’nt
appear to a b tter advantage—by the by,
madam, tout complexion and the contour
of your face are very much like those of the
Queen ”
“Do you think so Mr. Trinket ?”
“It’s a positive fact.”
“Heighho! "but I can’t purchase them.”
“I sold a pair to the Governor’s lady but
yesterday; and the daughter of the Consul
from the Loo Choo Islands took another pair
this morning.”
“Loo Choo—that’s Ihe continent of Europe
I believe. Cut as to the jewels—l don’t know
—perhaps in a day or two”—
“l have but two pair left ma’am.”
“Only two pair!”
“That’s all, ma’am—and one pair of them
is promised.”
“And Queen Adelaide wears them, and the
Governor’s wi e, and the Consul’s daughter of!
the Loo Choo Islands 1 I think I will take j
them, Mr. Trinket.”
She paid the cash, and the jeweller, burst-'
ing into a laugh as soon as she was gone, said ;
—“What a fool that woman is ! The ear-,
rings are some old ones that, have been on
hand these twenty years. But no matter—
all trades must live.”
We left tiie jeweller’s and dropped in at a
clothes ware house. Prrsentlv a rnan with a
dirty collar stepped in, to purchase a clean
one.
“ Only one collar, sir ?”
“One collar ! why that’s enough, aint it,
to put on at one time ?”
“Hi'd’nt you better take half a dozen ?”
“Oli Lord ! sir, what should I do with half
a dozen shirt-collars, when I have but one
shirt in the world ?”
“So much the more need of collars then.
Can’t wc sell you half a dozen ?”
hy, I don’t know—how much da you
ax ? If 1 can get ’em real cheap’’—
“Only three dollars for hul£.a dozen—as
cheap as dirt, you see.”
“Won’t you take off a dollar?”
“A dollar! that’s a large discount. They i
are absolutely cheap at three dollars —but
seeing it’s you, I’ll split tlie difference. Any
tiling else to-day ?”
“No, nothin’ else.”
“Can’t we sell you some shirts ?”
“Shirts ! by gorry, I can’t afford to keep
shirts and collars too.”
“But you’d better take two or three—von
can’t well get along with one, you know.—|
Here arc some beautiful ruffled ones. Shall 1 j
pul you up a couple?”
“Wnv I dont know what to say, Mister—
perhaps I’ll take one.”
“You’d better take two.”
“v ell, serin it's you, I will—if so be you’ll !
make a girierous discount.”
“Certainly—we’ll take off twenty percent,
Any thing else to-day?”
“No, I cant buy any more.”
“We have some very superb dickies, with
fashionable stubs—shall 1 show them to you?”
“Oh, dont show no more, for heaven’s sake
—l’ve bought enough to ruin me already.”
“But I wont charge you any tjiing for look
ing at them.”
“Well, these are magnificent upon my
word I wish I’d bought them in the room of
the shirts.”
“Why, you can have both, you know.”
“Yes, but then they cost such a plaguy
sight—they’ll drcun afi ller of his cash afore
he knows it.”
“No danger of that, I take it. That
pocke t book of yours will stand a pretty
good siege yet, Khali I put you tip half a
dozen TANARUS”
‘‘No, not so many as that—four will do.—
There, mister there’s your moncy-dont ax me
to buy any more, I beg on ye.”
“Cant we sell you a suit of clothes to-day?”
“Whew! dont mention it—dont now-leant
stand it.”
“Just try on this coat if you please.”
“Why, T can put it on, Mister, if that’s all,
just to oblige you.”
*T want to see how it looks on a well built
man. There ! now just walk to the glass, and
see how it appears—l think I never saw a
finer fit in my life.”
“It does somehow look pretty nice, I swag
gers 1”
“Now what n fine addition that would be to
your collars, your shirts, and dickies.”
“Yes, hut I can’t afford ’em all.”
“It’s very cheap—only twenty-five dollars.”
“Wont you take twenty ?”
“Why really we cant afford it—but since
you’ve liccn so good a customer to-day, why
—yon tnav take it at your own price.”
“Whew! this makes my pocket book as
lank as a Methodist preacher.”
“Now let us sell you the waistcoat and pan
taloons.”
“The di'ul’s in the man ! Cant you let a bo
dy alone without making ’em buy all you’ve
got ?”
“You really ought to have the vnt and pan
taloons to make out your suit. It’s of no in
terest to me, you know—not tho least. But
you’re the very man 1 like to sell clothes to—
you some how or other become them so well.
I’il put you the vest and pantaloons very '
cheap.” j
“W ell, hang it, scein it is you, if you’ll let me j
have ein at half price, I’ll take ’em.”
“Half price 1 Ah well, never mind —we’ve l
URAL AND MERCANTILE INTELLIGENCER.
been giving you all the other things, and it’s
too late to stand for a price now.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Any thing else to-day ?”
“Confound your long-tongued gizzard. ! if
you ax me to buy another thing, I’ll kneel, i
you down. Good bvc.”
“Good bye sir,—call again whenever you !
come th' t way.”
Thus the tor follow ; who at first intended
to purchase only a single collar, was induced
to take a whole suit, together with sundry
changes of shirts, collars and dickies—and all
above their real value, though apparently at
his own price. Such are ?. few of the every
day exhibitions of the art of sealing.
THE RECO: i YIENDATION.
A young man, from Connecticut, came in
to Dutchess county a year or two since, to
teach a school. He passed a tolerable exam
ination before a committee, and was pronounc
ed to he well qualified for the task. But being
a stranger in thqsn parts, some recommenda
tion as to charactef was deemed requisite,
i “ Have you any credentials as to your mor
al character ?” asked one of the committee.
“No,” said the teacher carelessly, “I didn’t
; think it necessary to bring any written recom
mendation. My father is a clergyman.”
“Ah ! indeed ? Is the Rev. Mr. vonr
father ?”
“The same ?’’
“Oh, we’ve all heard of him. T think
we’ll venture to engage you. Purely the son
of a clergyman ought to be a man of good
morals.”
“I trust ao, n said the schoolmaster elect,
with most commendable length of face.
All preliminaries being arranged, the
school commenced; and for some time the
new teacher deported himself to the admira
tion of his employers.
“What a fine thing it is,” said one, “to have
a clergyman to one’s father. Our schoolmas
ter now is proof of what good bringing up
can do. Here he came without any recom
mendation, and we employed him merely on
the reputation cf his father. A.id now he’s
a pattern to all the young men in the neigh
borhood.”
“That’s a fact truth,” said another—“we
ha'nt had a morallcr and a soberer schoolmas
ter these twenty years.”
In short, he was the theme of general praise
with both young and old, male and female.
Mothers encouraged him to visit their dan li
ters, and daughters were emulous who should
receive him with the most marked attention.
But unluckily for the clergyman’s son, lie had
an old complaint, which, though kept under
ior a whole year, at length began 1o break out
anew with much violence. He got as drunk as
a fiddler’s no matter what. The peo
ple stared prodigiously, and wondered how it
could happen*
“”fis Strange !” said one.
“I can’t account for it,” said another.
“ I dare say it wont happen again,” said a
third.
“Every body must he drunk once in their
lives,” said a fourth.
“it's a bad example for our children,” said
a fifth ; “but we must overlook this one of
fence.'’
Tims charitably they spake ; hut the dis
ease having broke out anew, was not easy to
be checked. The master was frequently
found in his cups, and every day lie had more
or less of a drop in the eye. The inhabitants
could bear it no long. r.
“Confound the fellow,” said a farmer, “lie
gets as drunk as a beast every day.”
“Yes, there he goes now most confounded
ly cut,” said a shoemakt r.
“He was corned to the bajck-bone last night,”
said a butcher.
“And that’s your clergyman’s son, is it?”
} said one who had been formerly most zealous
Jin Isis praise. “ I thought hoy ’(would turn
out; but our committee men will never be
i ruled by men of sense.”
I “For my part,” said the farmer, 1 I wouldn’t
I trust a clergyman’s son any further than I
could sling a two-year old bull by the tail.”
“They’re always spoilt in the bringing up,”
said one of the committee. “I wonder how
wc come to lx; so token in.”
“Oh the drunken brute 1” exclaimed a la
dy who had been most forward in bringing
him to her house—“l always thought he
would turn out no better than he ought
to bo.”
“Faugh ! bow* he staggers along the street,”
said a young lady, who had most decidedly
set her cap for him—“l wonder how any
young woman could think of ever speaking to
such a filthy creature. I thank heaven, I
had too much penetration from the first to b
deceived.”
Such were the observations now mode a
gainst the clergyman’s son, who but a few
days before had been the admiration of the
whole neighborhood. Ilis habits could he
no longer endured, and he was called before
the committee to take his dismission.
“Andso!” said they, “you’re the clergy,
man’s son, are you ?”
“The same, gen-tle-men-thcsame,” replied
tiie teacher, with considerable reeling and
j titubation from his last night’s debauch,
j “And how dared you impose upon us in
! this way ?”
“No im-po-si-tion, gentle-men, I assure
you I am the son of the R-R-Itev. Mr. ,
and if any man pretends to dispute it ”
“But how comes it, if you are a clergy
man’s son, that you get drunk?’’
“Why, gentlemen, if you want to know you
must ask the clergyman himself—for my p; rt
Fain so dry I can hardly speak the truth—and
gentlemen l bill you good morning. What n
glorious thing it is to have a clcrgvinan for;
one’s father ! It’s a recommendation all over
the world.”
nr*wurßM esgfwwiowi
Poverty is the Inst schoolmaster in exist
ence. It teaches men to distinguish between
their real and pretended friends, and gives a
more correct knowledge of mankind. The
poor man has no flatterers. Ho may meet
with rebuffs, and slights, and neglects, but
he may be sure they are all realities ; there
is no flattery in them, and, therefore, he is
not deceived. Neither is he troubled in giv
ing advice in cases in which he knows little,
and cares less about; because, as the pro
fundity of a person’s judgment is frequently
appreciated according to the depth of Li?
purse, a man that is poor is seldom credited
for much, whilst, as Don Quixottc says, “the
rich man’s blunders pass or maxims in the
world.”
Strange, that so few should choose a state
so tree Loin care and anxiety ns that might
he, were people satisfied with it. But the
fact is, nun’s mind is prone to be dissatisfied
in every state, and to be always wishing for
change. 1 fence the poor, perceiving conven
iences enjoyed by their less poor neighbors
which their circumstances will not allow
strain every nerve for the attainment of them,
and thus from grade to grade upwards in the
scale of society : and after all ihe richest man
is far from being the happiest. The same
desire of change still exists, and he not know
ing tile real cause of his anxiety, foolishly im
agines, that by still adding to his wealth, he
will increase his happiness; whereas the best
change he could make, undone which would
effectually secure his happiness and independ
ence, would be to become poor. This would
teach him a lesson lie never learnt before, arid
make a true philosopher of him. lie would
soon find out, by that means, who were his
friends, and who were not; who valued him
on account of his personalworth, and who on
account of his wealth. The circle cf his
friends would soon considerably diminish ;
but he would have this satisfaction, which is
worth the whole sa-rifice, to know that the
few who stuck by him were true.
South ern Ch ran i ole.
ACiRICI L i'i i,ML.
From the Southern Agriculturist.
ON THE NECESSITY OF ACQUIRING A
KNOWLEDGE OF AGRICi LITRE
KV S. HGUWEMONT.
“ Columbia, S. 0. May lfi, 1831.
Dear Sir, — 1 was surprised and very sorry
to learn by the last number of the Southern
Agriculturalist, that you had received onlj
two original communications during the last
month. It is to be hoped that your appeal to
our agricultural community w ill have (tie de
sired effect of rousing the apathy that seems
almost to have obliterated our feeling or in
ter-: st in so essential a profession as that of
Agriculture, in a country that is, and must
always be almost exclusively devoted to it.
It is not, as you observe, that we ate so highly
improved in the art and science of husbandry,
that it would be a work of supererogation in
the intelligent and patriotic cultivator to give
precepts ol advice lo his hr. tiiren of the craft.
Neither is there a scarcity of subjects on
which lie may exercise his pen with some
prospect of advantage. That the number of
your subscribers is very respectable, shows
that there is a disposition to read enough on
this most interesting subject. I feel within
myself on? of the* causes which probably j
deters many from writing, and that is a re
luctance to offer to the public eye observations
that have been made many times before, and
what is particularly my erv, the fear lest the
readers of your journal may be tired of seeing
too often a signature at the bottom of pieces
t i:it have apparently done no good.
e cannot doubt the existence of an im
perious necessity of something being done to
excitein our community, by any proper means,
a disposition to improve their agriculture, and
thereby sure their country. For it is equally
true of communities as it is of individuals,
that to insure success, a close and wise atten
tion to their own proper business is a sinequa
•ton. Aed for the want of which, either are
usually ruined. There is in tins, it must be
allowed, a considerable difficulty, not, how
v< r, harder to overcome, than it is very great
ly needed. l>o* s not experience, in fact,
show that the let-.: .knowledge man possesses,
the h ss be can appreciate its worth, and that
he only who has made some advances in the
sciences, is aware of how much he has to
learn, and how deeply the world is yet in ig
norance, particularly in regard to natural sci
ences? These form so extended a field for
study,"the more oift? advances, the more his
horizon secin3 distant: whereas to the very
ignorant man, the field has no existence, and
lie thinks he knows, of these matters, at least
as much as any other person. This appears,
then, the reason of the difficulty, I beg not to
lie understood to mean that we have not a
•nong U3 many persons who form honourable
exceptions. Asa class of agricullors, Ido not
believe there is any where any r> on superior
and but tew equal to the low country plant -
ers, with whom may be associated a few of
the middle and upper country. The culture
of rice, particularly, has been carried to a de
gree of perfection to which few, if anv object
of field culture has attained. Yet, I would ask
ol the most enlightened men among the rice
planters, whether they ar: not satisfied that
they have yet much to learn before they can
he thoroughly acquainted with nature's modes
of acting and the best methods of seconding,
and even enhancing her efforts. They will, I
am satisfied, admit tiiat they vet need much
experience, and that this can only bo obtain
ed by profound and scientific researches.
They have, however, reached so high an emi
nonce that they need further instruction,
much less than Ihe great farmers and culti
vators ol the soil all o*er the world, and, l am
sorry to say it, principally in the Southern
Elates. “Knowledge is power.” A coun
iry, therefore, with a thin population is far
more in need of this power tlflin those coun
tries where the mere brute'force is almost ad-
equate to all its purposes. The promotion of
knowledge is the acquiring of wealth, and
theso two combined form the strongest ram
part to fortify the liberty, independence and
prosperity of any country. A practical, scion
titic agncultor will obtain hundreds from tiie
soil, taking every thing info consideration,
lor every unit which the ignorant man, In
dint of hard labour can extract from it. The
Southern States are almost exclusively a<ri
cultural; for their commerce is in the hands
cl strangers; it is, therefore, their most inioe
nous duty to themselves, under the penalty
of something very near destruction, to ac
quire agricultural knowledge. But, how is
tins to he done. l'o not our farmers seem e
qually averse with others to promote this
Iheir individual, great and invaluable benefit,
and, r.r facto, the safety of their country. Is
not tins undeniably proven by this, that the
repeated efforts of enlightened members of
our legislature to obtain something like this
object, has been invariably treated with ncg.
cct Alas, this is hut too true! Are wo then
to he vanquished i,y „ui uiiucon I
to submit to a degradation little short fl
very, as to the unerring di cries of favftß
w.mot rather, like Animus, acquires* J
Lo a oar prostration and rise withli’n'a B
munition to retain that strength j., < j c I
and render it permanent there? L-, r 1
disregarding the difference of our" v : ! J
politics, (t:i - angry disscaitionsof whi-uj
only to r! niatc us more and mor- f-,-
natural friends and neighbours:) ioia 1 1
and soul, iri the production of that most '*■
ruble of a'i acquisitions—know lex],J
principally that which belongs to 1
which we are unavoidably to exercise' r„l
the observations made above, it sceir, • 1
expect cf men in a state cf comparative LJ
ranee, that they will establish the u ,' , 1
ova rooming it. It must, therefore, be '
siricss of those who arc now, or who i
come by reflection, enlightened vi tli'n-1
ject, to commence, with ail the ic a,,
zee! they ore susceptible cf, end j .
foundation stone of the structure v .lii ( ' 1
be in future their impregnable for* o
Out upon tlm nonsense (in this casetf'J
maxim “lot us alone.” The Indians'of c
continent and the savages of Africa!
tried its efficacy long enough to
ult.-r nothingness as a rule"’of co! l d,; ( v
forming the primary establishments
for the promotion of that knoulciW. w |,; c e
©raise them in the scale of inti J-ccti
beings, oocioty m a state ot nifoncv qi
child in the ordinary course of tj
must be taught that winch is to form his f
l ire occupation through life, j
that no offence may be taken; for, most a
redly ; o offence is intended, when l s j v
that, as lo the means of iustruction A
almost exclusive professional pursuit oftid
country, we are very certainly in a shtl
of infancy; for we have not, in the Xi
State, a single establishment formed f<
this express view, where the very AdJ.C,
agriculture, as a science or as an art, j s "
be learned. This is a most anomolus sh
ot things, incredible, but for its facing- i:.v
constantly to our view! Would it not i
thought a most unheard of dcreli, 100, ,
common sense that a hoy brought tin for
shoe-maker, should be taught only the nroi
©fries of minerals and vegetables, the uses j
letters and numbers, &©.&e. but not aura
as to leather or the- best way of shaping i
into a shoe! Is it wonderful, then,td
many of our citizens are moving away? ft
want of using the proper means to ‘ensui
their prosperity, they become disgusted wit
Ihe futility of their labours, lay the blame o
an innocent cause, and remove to a fean
country, where the probability is that tbe
will not succeed much better. Their nafni
state, in the mean time, becomes depnii
lated. The richer lands of tbe West, if t| lc
can be really richer, would r.ot attract
farmer who had, by his wisely directed in
dustry, rendered his farm, not only an abim
darrt source of independence and condor; to
him and his; but also, by tiie easy embtiiis!,.
merits produced by taste and kWvleti'j,*
pnradidb, or at least a very pleasrn. an •:
greeable residence. He would not conlkis
to sweat and dig for always inertai?
mountains of cotton, coiton, cotton, wiici
does not pay him for bis labour, when |:i
neighbours as well as himself arc in wanio
corn, meat, horses, mules,and even liny, do
which they are compelled to procure llonu--
taut countries, when his farm coulJ pro!**
them in abundance and perfection. It t.r
ho said as an excuse, as it has some force, la
it. is very difficult, in a country organizedw
this is, to change the object of one’s cults?.
It is not intended h-erc to recommend thea
bandonment of the culture of cotton; buttn
ly that, as it commands so small a price,to
diminish the quantity raised and sobstint!
oilier things to tnc quantity *hal is given r
Many, very many, are the objects wi.ichm.,
be thus made to replace the diminished cul
ture of cotton ; but it is needless to cnmrnr
ate them, particularly as it has been repd
edly done before. The few articles naiird
above are not likely to be superabundant fra
long tunc yet, and such soils as aie suitah
for them are in great plenty, and as for le
soils jiot. calculated to produce them advan
tageously, there is an abundant choice of 00
er objects. All we want is knowledge and
industry.
The patriotic exertions of the Rail Rosd
Company are above all praise. The facilities
which their successful efforts will give for the
speedy transportation of produce and of wot
thing that :s or may become objects of com
merce, must have a very great effect in pro
moting the vvelf ~a of the State. Bet nil
sufficient? Is the amount of produce sui’.-
eicnt to reward them, as they may merit, M
their great expenses? It will undoubted
promote- to a certain extent, the increase of
tl;e produce of the country, and act, 1 lior -
as a stimulus to the acquirement of the knov.l
- herein recommended. But why id
carry on both objects simultaneously, vvhica
can and ought certainly to be done, it th;
acquiring of tiie latter has not been prcvioiu
ly effected, as it should have been?
Reflect, fellow citizens; re fh.ct, leek uroun>!
you and you will sec that your country is in an
unhealthy, dangerous state. Exert your
powers and influence to save it. Enable it
to follow its natural pursuits according to f i;
most advantageous methods, by extending
the means of knowledge. Render it com
paratively a garden, a source of profit and ct
pleasure. Ry these means, and probalh by
them alone you will be able to save it.
Can it be true, as some rcasoners ak;rr<-
that there is no such a thing as patriotism.-"
That its existence is only found iu roinm.co
and iu the mistaken and sickly trains of en
thusiasts? That every thing must be refev
red to individual interests? I cannot, 1 "' , ' l
not believe it, no: withstanding the many j'P*
parent proofs of it at the present time. K' :t
let us admit it for the sake of argument,si <1
even then, it can be shown very certainly fM
in an extended view, the prosper’ 1 ' ci o , r
neighbours is a benefit to us, am. that the
general good is made up of individual go ot ‘ -
It is then in many true points of view the
personal interest of one class of society d ,:lt
all the other classes bo prosperous. '1 h
mass of individual happiness, like that of
dividual wealth, constitutes the happing,
wealth and prosperity of the State.
Bate as ve are, to attend to the r>po<?Tirirf