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1 “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