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conceals him from the throng, only casts on his
deformity a deeper blackness, when searched by
the light of Heaven. We walk among our fel
lows, assuming virtues luiown to us by name
alone, and if successful in a specious cheat, de
ceiving others, we come at the last to deceive our
selves. The two great rocks upon which men
split, and are destroyed, are—lst, a craven shrink
ing from self-examination ; and, 2d, the dread of
the ostracism of the multitude, which always fol
lows any deliance of those arbitrary “dicta,”
which Time has sanctified, and Custom upholds
as wise. These tw r o influences, brought power
fully to bear upon natural prejudice, and unregu
lated passions, render us what we are ; mummers,
and actors in that melancholy masquerade, w hose
stage is earth—whose prompters are the spirits of
evil—whose scene-shifter is self-interest, and
w’hose denouement death. Habit, which is all
powerful in an individual, acquires a concentrated
strength in society, and if turned to wrong courses,
becomes a moral Niagara, beneath whose force
the hills of our feeble resolutions melt like sand,
and in w'hose roar of error even the mountains
of Truth appear to be shaken for a season. And
on, on—over the world, deepening and widening
in its course, with a sullen thunder that swells
to Heaven, and the tumultuous rush of an in
scrutable and awful Destiny, the river of human
sin and crime knowing no bounds—no pause—
few rays of enlighment and peace, hisses between
the banks of Time, towards those solemn waters,
whose secrets have no Revelation, and appear to
the human imagination only in an Apocalypse of
gloom. But we, unconscious of the surge upon
which we are riding, intent only upon trimming
our sails, and hiding the true weakness of our
craft from fellow-voyagers, pass onward with
smiles, and songs, and laughter, pretending to an
excellence we cannot comprehend, and content
if our follies be known alone to ourselves. But
the curtain must fall upon the stage, and the bark
of life be swallowed in the “unknown Ocean,”
and as the “Gods themselves cannot fight against
necessity,” so the uumasqued soul must tremble
into Eterniiy, and with the last dashes of the de
ceptive paint, and the tattered remnants of the
eaithly gauds lingering upon it, stand in the pre
sence of the diviuest irradiation of Truth, which
“is the smile upon the face of God.”
SOUTHERN TRADE.
The following notice is clipped from the Sa
vannah Morning JSeics :
“A movement is in progress to secure a direct
trade from Europe to several of the principal
Southern poits ol the Uuited States. It is pro
posed to hold a Couvenuon in Aiacon, Ga., in
October ntxi, for the purpo.-e of concentrating
upon such Souihern ports as are best calculated
lor the object m view.”
We rejoice to see that our friends of Georgia
have taken up this important subject, with the in
tention of bestowing upon it the consideration it
merits. We, of the South, have been too long
supine in regard to our best interests, and surely
the opening ol a direct trade with Europe, must
be viewed as one ol these interests so paramount
iu importance, that if longer uegiected, the disad
vantage resulting to the advancement and future
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
wealth of our section will be incalculable. Now
while the spirit of sensible enterprise seems arous
ed, we should work without ceasing, for the pur
pose of placing the South in that independent po
sition, which is her due. Not until we become
independent of the appliances of Northern com
merce, and have acquired the facilities for a more
direct and extensive exportation of our staples,
can we hope to reach our legitimate sectional
position, and commence to accomplish the ends for
which Providence has eminently fitted us. We
trust that the Convention to be held in Macon, in
October, will assemble together much of the wis
dom and patriotism of the South, that the great
object they have in view will be considered in a
liberal spirit, and iwejasures be adopted calculated
to place its accomplishment beyond doubt.
it Sigh of fioggip.
A Frontispiece for “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
We saw a scene at one of the principal churches
in our city, only a Sabbath or two since, which
we wished to have daguerreotyped for the benefit
of a vast portion of our unenlightened neighbours
at the North. It was Sacrament Sunday at the
! Church, and nearly a thousand of the “down trod
den and oppressed sons and daughters of Africa”
had participated with their white brethren and
sisters in the sacred festival. After the services
were over the coloured communicants thronged
the church-yard, and lingered around the temple
in that eager and animated conversation which is
so characteristic of the negroes. They were
‘dressed in their best,’ (and that ‘best’ would have
put to shame the “Sunday go-to-meeting fixings”
, of the labouring people of New-England !) The
bright and fanciful turbans of the women flashed
gaily in the sunshine, and a perfect Babel of plea
sant voices rose into the evening air. There was
a smile upon every face —such a broad, beaming,
happy, universal outgushiug of contentment as
we never saw, in ail our lives, pervading a group
of a thousand men and women whose skins are
white. We thought then, that if Mrs. Harriet
Beecher Stowe’s publishers would only let us put
a daguerreotyped piciure of that scene, as a fron
tispiece, into every subsequent copy of Uncle Tom’s
Cabin which they issue, we would be content
that the book should go into every dwelling in
the land, from the “White House” down to the
cabin of the humblest squatter upon our farthest
borders. Yea, more, it might circulate ‘through
every vein’ of the habitable globe, ana we would
be satisfied with the story which our piciure
would tell even more eloquently than the pen of
the gifted, but not conscientious, author of the
“ Cabin”
The James Adger.
The brilliaut success of this beautiful steam
ship is matter of congratulation among all who
feel a pride iu the prosperity of Charleston. She
is owned, we believe, entirely in our city, and has
fairly surpassed all her competitors in the speed
of her voyages. Twice she has made the home
ward trip in two days, &ud upon several other oc
casions equally gratifying results would have been
obtaiued, but for detentions at the Charleston bar,
or by the fogs which infest Sandy Hook. She is
one of the noblest specimens of naval architecture
afloat, and no “palace of the waters” has a more
gallant, courteous and skillful commander, a kind
er and more attentive purser, or a more intelligent
and trustworthy engineer than the James Adger
We commend her, with all sincerity, to those of
our readers who would make a pleasant and
speedy ocean-trip to New-York.
Our Foreign Letters.
It is with pleasure that we present to our rea
ders, in this number, the first of a series of “Let
ters from a Lady Abroad.” To those who are
privy to the authorship of these letters, they will
need no commendation from us. To others, how
ever, we may fitly say that they will find both
pleasure and profit in their perusal. We trust,
for the sake of our readers, that we shall be fa
voured with frequent letters from our esteemed
correspondent.
Wonderful Speed.
A letter from one of the members of the Wash
ington Light Infantry corps of this city, appears
in the Constitutionalist of the 14th, and begins in
these words:
“After a pleasant passage of forty-two hours,
we arrived in tins city in fine health and good
spirits.”
Having read thus far, we stopped to consider
what voyage the Washington Light Infantry had
made recently that could have been accomplished
j m “forty-two hours.” A glance at the next lines
satisfied us that the passage in question was none
other than the return trip by rail-way from Au
gusta to this city, and we notice it to congratulate
the rail-way company upon the extraordinary
speed their cars must have attained upon the oc
casion. Wonder if it was an “express train!”
Words that we feel.
If we need to apologize to our readers for the
apparent egotism of quoting the following para
graph, (trom the Cassville standard,) we will do
so by saying that it was penned by one of our
friends in Georgia who has known us all through
our past struggles, in the discouraging effort to
build up a domestic periodical literature. It is a
tribute most grateful to us that it comes from
Georgia, the still beloved scene of our earliest
literary labours. We are not disposed to make a
vain boast of our persevering efforts in the wo>k
before us, lor we are well aware of their imperfec
tions, but it should be of no disservice to us, to
say the least, with the people of the South, that
the facts stated by our friendly contemporary
should be repeated. He says, truly, that we are
acting upon the doctrine “There is no such word
as fail.” Thanks—a thousand thanks—to all
who like him stay our hands by their sympathy
and encouragement.
“ The Southern Literary Gazette. —We
have frequently spoken ol the character of this
old and well established journal, but the com
mencement of anew semi-annual volume, now
requires us to say a lew words more. It is now
published in quarto lorm, with a semi-monthly
supplement—alt filled with matter.ol the choices!
chaiacter. We will repeat what we befoie re
marked m relation to its gentlemanly editor, Wm.
C. Richards, Esq.—that if there is any man iu |
[i July 24,