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.1. A.'ITMER, EDITOR. |
VOLUME I.
INDEPENDENT PRESS.
I*ublisl»sd every Tuesday morning.
TEEMS.
TY\ O DOLLARS >.tor annum in advance to all not
residing in the County.
Rates of Advertising— Legal advertisements
inserted on the following terms:
Letters of Citation, S- 50
Xutice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 00
Application for leave to sell land or negroes, -1 00
Sale of Personal Property, by Executors,
Administrators or Ouai dians, 3 00
Sale of Lands or Negroes, by same, 5 O')
Application for Letters of Dismission, -1 CO
Nearly Advertisements- —Professional and
l i’sines' c-Jtrds. measuring twelve lines or less will be
inserted at Twelve Dollars.
Other Advertisements will be charged $1 00 for
• very twelve lines or less, for first insertion, and 00
. ts for every weekly continuance.
Advertisements, not having the number of inser
: ions marked upon them, will be published till forbid
and charged accordingly.
y>usinf.ss (farils.
J. A. TURNER,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, Entouton, On.
RICHARD T. DAVIS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW. Entouton, On. Office over
\ an Maters store.
S. DUSENIIERRV, Tailor, Eatonton, Ga.
w e warrant to please all who may wish u late and
fashionable stvk- of dress.
April, Is, 1854. St.
\A *■ A. DAVIS, Wholesale and Retail Grocer:
\\ • Sells heavy goods and produce on Conunis
s-ii. East corner Jefferson St.. Eatonton, Ga.
April IS. ISSL ts.
(i)niiinai.
-v
For The Independent Press.
To Grace Greenwood.
A into abolition convention paid its compliments to
Grace Greenwood by adopting the following res
• .ution:—"Resolved that we earnestly call upon
i tie women of the U. S. earnestly and zealously to
follow iii the glorious path laid out for them by
U-.kriet Beecher Stow. Grace Greenwood and
Lydia M. Child.’’ 1 wish also to pay her my
what the scripture lias said and twill be,
A:.ere Gro r doth a-'-mud's an abundance of sin.
. . the prii. iple’s true, ’twefe conclusive in thee,
If t.ie iuLs of the bible it had never been in.
: -i. tat all strange that you dub yourself Green.
N.c ti. : •■nd's in your ;<«//«• when pour head is so
foil; „ /
A mr,Mt on the South have you venfjß your spleen,
What a pity your head Is not oov«d with wool!
audition to green, you’re undoubttmy blue —
Green and blue: —Yet one color y-M lack; —
.Chat it is. it were needless to inentiß, to you,
a- your sympathies all havebeß ever so black!
’rtlistcllanfom
For The- Independent {. ess
Change of Feeling.
“ On! there are looks and toi» s that dart,
An instant sunshine to the
There are few persons oigusceptibility
| who have not observedthe powerful
I * fleet which is sornetimejS iroduced upon
* 1 lie heart-, bv*jv..sjnv|)le v ur( l ? a look, or
* 'attuuhfe-' under peculiar relations of
thought arid feeling. There are mo
ments when tire soul, melted by the in
fiuene • of some powerful spell, receives
impressions which, in its cold and guard
ed hours, would have passed unheeded.
Persons and things we are accustomed
to consider as being too familiar for par
ticular attention, become, when connect
ed with us by some new association pos
sessed of the most, briliant and attrac
tive beauties; and objects over which
our eyes have been accustomed to wan
der a thousand times regardlessly will
suddenly arrest the attention as if by
fascination.
\\ ho has not l’elt the soul-inspiring
strain of music wafted slowly over the
moonlit waters when all was still as mid
night, and not a murmur of wind or
o»wave broke in upon the dream of mel
ody? Yet that strain had often been
heard amid the busy haunts of society,
Vitbaut drawing forth from the heart
one responsive echo. But now it is in
harmony with all around, and breathes
upon the spirit with a bland and almost
resistless enchantment. Who has not
gazed upon forms which seemed the re
alized creation of mid-summer’s dream,
which appear but once and then vanish
forever; seemingly as if they were light
ed from some purer sphere, and breath
ing the bloom and freshness of another
being: Yet, perhaps, eyes as bright,
4 forms as lovely, are continually sur
rounding us; but we gaze upon them
i|eoldl come not before us spark
k ing w splendors. Oh! there is
I power beyond expression in the last
iglance, of those whom we love, when
r the light is just fading from their eyes,
ah the spirit flutters to be gone. There
ivan energy in the last tone of parental
lamnonition, when the tongue falters and
;hf lip quivers in its mortal agony,
. wlitjb fastens upon and clings forever to
1 {he ipemory. And there is a sadness in
It he farewell of departing friends when
iferv expire, which seems not the word
%>}} ! sigh of: departed life, resting like
©hflil)! journal:—ltciioteii to I’itcratiirc, |)olitirs, Idijion anil Tgriailtnrc.
| a cloud upon us and casting even amid
j the sunshine of hope and happiness its
: solemn gloom upon our minds: Yet
i taint and powerless would have been the
j glance and the tone, uneonneeted with
the awful ideas of eternity.
It is this relation which gives efficacy
to all things, and makes a eonsisteuev of
feeling with the connexion of time and
place:—there is an influence in local
circumstances. .Never does the savage
appear In his rude and native majesty,
save when wandering in his own wild
woods or in his sylvan solitude; and
“never does the Swiss’ song sound with
| such an eloquent sweetness as when
heard amid the rocks and hills of his
1 own native land.”
There is an order and harmony in na
ture, which when properly attained, one
cord vibrates to another, until all nature
joins in the glorious melody. Would
you hear the blithe and beautiful feather
ed minstrels ? Seek them not among the
busy haunts of men, but in the solitude
of some far off mountain. The great
may make artificial hills, and break each
streamlet- with a cascade, and crown each
summit with a ruin. But does this
! compare with the foam and fury of the
! cataract in the quiet glade, and in the
! bosom of tranquility ? Would you see
; nature in her might and majesty; seek
I her upon her native throne. In visit
| ing the Northern part of our own State,
| one is struck with the grandeur and
; beauty of the country at every turn.—
AY ho that has a mind to comprehend
the grand and beautiful, has seen and
not admired the grandeur of our native
rocks. They convey impressions of the
noblest cast; they stir the meanest soul
to better thoughts; they speak of Deity
and celestial power; abrupt they rise
from fertile vales, huge masses heaped
on masses, whose ragged surfaces are
hid by moss and ever-greens. There is
poetry in nature, and the man who can
not appreciate it is, in that respect, but
little above the brute creation. It is
among the savage hills, and rocks, and
gloomy forests, we are to trace the mani
ac path of the wild cataract, and hear
its mournful howl through the fearful
solitude of profound silence. It is as
we stand upon the projecting cliff, where
the fury of the wild wave dashes high,
that we may behold the constellated
ruins of former years, for these are con
genial scenes, and it is by a view of them
that- they are impressed upon the mind.
So fur as regards other matters, the
following lines from a much read poet
will express me fully:
*• A little word in kindness spoken,
A motion or a tear,
Has often healed the heart that's broken
And made a’friend sincere.”
Eatonton, April, 1854. G.
wHisery’s u Uncle.”
The history of the pawnbroker’s sign
must be a curious one, though we con
fess we have not examined into it. The
fragment of a broken orrery, the three
balls seem the emblem of something
wrong in the planetary system —of
course they didn’t- plan it right or such
things would never be.
Did you ever enter one of those dim
be-eurtained places, a pawnbroker’s
shop ! YY e don’t mean as a nephew,
to claim relationship, but merely as ‘‘a
looker-on in Vienna.” Did the dealer
in humble sorrows happen to be a friend
and did he permit you to look through
the lattice of' his shadowy confessional
upon those who presented themselves at
his counter?
And when they came in, one after
another, now a mere child, now tt totter
ing old woman, sometimes a well dressed
young man, apparently with health and
habits at par, and sometimes a miserable
votary of vice in vice’s livery, didn’t you
begirt to think there were a few chapters
of the history of humanity yet unwrit
ten ?
Thousands of little bundles, all ticket
ed and numbered and booked, and neat
ly packed upon shelves that run away
back into the darkness; bundles, not one
half of which will ever be reclaimed.
What stories are connected with some
of them, that nobody but heaven and the
pawnbroker knows. Wedding dresses
are there, that have been kept, year af
ter year, as souvenirs of a better time,
till they could be kept no longer. Little
did the blushing girl think, when array
ed upon that bridal morn, that the dress
she wore would ever rejoice in such
companionship. And who knows that
there are shrouds there? “Shrouds?”
asks the pawnbroker, as you thought,
out aloud, “ maybe you don’t think so,
but there is a shroud, a little shroud, in
that snug little bundle I touch with my j
stick, this minute. I loaned fifty cents on i
, I .long time-ago." . '.' - j
And here in the safe—wedding rings
mourning rings, seals with love’s devices
on them, that arc dead as the hopes of
those who once wore them : rings that
once encircled filly fingers; watches that
once beat in haughty bosoms.
Many a woman makes a pawnbroker’s
shop of the human heart.
But there are pawnbroker’s shops,
not indicated by the three balls. Many
a human heart is a pawnbroker’s shop,
rilled with lamentable mementos of bet
ter, brighter days—hearts, where may be
found the wrecks of happiness and hope,
pawned to supply the imperious present,
whose pledges are never redeemed but
revert to the melancholy and remorseless
past.
But exactly 111 the midst of our rev
erie, here comes a man w ith an old copy
of Homer, and a “how much can you
allow for it?” Think of that! “The
blind old man of Scio’s rocky isle ” pawn
ed for a couple of paltry quarters! Isn’t
sentiment hopelessly frightened from its
“ proprieties,” and who wouldn’t lay
down the pen and--stop?— Ecu; York
Tribune.
Udivard WverctVs JLibrary.
The library of the Hon. Edward Ever
ett, in Summer street, is probably the
most extensive and best arranged of any
private library in the country. It is a
complete model. The visitor, on enter
ing, feels that eloquent evidences are
magnificently spread around him.
Shelves upon shelves ofvariegated books
greet the eye, unmistakably bespeak
ing the taste, the mind, anct the liberali
ty of their distinguished owner. A
work of sculpture of unrivalled delicacy
and beauty, is seen in one place, a grand
paintingof the ancient school, gorgeous in
color and exquisite in conception, in an
other; here are the mechanism of sience,
the obedient illustrators of astronomy,
of navigation, of electricity, of the ma
thematics; and there are globes and
maps, diagrams, ad libitum. Upon one
side, reaching from floor to. lofty ceiling,
are huge mirrors, bordered in gold, throw
ing back their rich stores of intellect and
taste before them.
Furniture of unique and antique pat
terns; chairs of the Elizabethan age:
lounges and sofas “ rages ” in the volup
tuous reign of Louis XIV.; tables and
desks of curious shape and rare and cos
tly materials and workmanship; book
cases in gold, of Gothic beauty; books
of all ages, nations and tongues —each
and all forcibly impress the beholder,
and flood him with emotions which it is
impossible to picture forth in the cold
vestments of tb is poor world. Upun all
this scene of intellect, taste and beauty,
there bends gently down the soft, twi
lightish ray, making it still more pictures
que and attractive by the mingling shades
of a parti-colored sky-light. The effect
is beautiful—it is more than beautiful.
The room, large and long, seems an un
earthly presence. It is of all places that
of a man imbued with genius; inspired
by a iove of wisdom seeking the depths
and truths of a great philosophy, strug
gling with the huge opinions and great
minds of the past and present; it is such
a place as lie would resort to, and there
hold communion with his theme away
from and out of the world, as it were.
It is here, pacing back and forth,
that Mr. Everett, lias composed and re
hearsed those masterly and beautiful
productions which swayed senates and
enraptured the popular heart; it was
here that was conceived that magnilicient
oration, already one of the pillars of :he
classics, which was pronounced with so
electric an effect upon the.battle plains of
Lexington; it is here that were written
those innumerable brilliants of literature,
closing with the noblest of all, the life,
character, and genius of Webst-er; it is
here that have been penned thought sand
periods which shall send his name down
to the most distant posterity.
It is a rare and beautiful place, is this
library of the illustrious EvCrett. It is
eminently worthy and characteristic of
its owner. —Boston Dispatch.
The West Point and Atlanta Hail
road is completed, to the East Bank of
the Chattahoochee River, at the former
place. In six weeks more, the bridge
will be finished and the connection with
the Montgomery Road be made.
The Macoupin, (Illinois,) Statesman
states that the prospects in that county
for an abuundant yield of wheat were
never better than at this season of the
year.
The young lady who fell in love has
been pulled out, by the daring fellow who
successfully struggled wi/h the world.
‘•WITHOUT FEAR, FAVOR OR AFFECTION.”
EATONTON, TUESDAY', APRIL 25, 1854.
The Sanders Winner Warty
in London.
We make the following extract from
a letter of recent date, written by an
American gentleman now in London.
It gives a brief sketch of some of the per
sons present at the dinner recently giv
en by Mr. Sanders, American (consul,
to the republican leaders who are now
in that city, exiles from their native land.
The writer says:
“It was one of the most interesting
meetings 1 ever attended. It was a gath
ering such as I never probably shall see
again, and 1 accepted the invitation
with much pleasure, however much .1
might have felt at liberty to differ ygith
them and him in their policy. Several
Americans were present and among them
Mr. Buchanan. Some of the papers here
wanted to know what the American
Minister was doing amongst this ‘‘band
of conspirators V' As far as this matter
is concerned, it is nobody’s business, and
as long as lie does his duty to his coun
try and the government to which he is
accredited, 110 one has a right to com
plain when, where, or with whom he
dines. The principal persons present
were Kossuth, Mazzini, Ledru Rollin,
Orsini, Garabaldi, Pulzsky, Worcell,
and Hertzen.
Kossuth we know all about in the
United States. His conduct there was
anything but creditable to himself as a
leader, and lie was obliged to leave the
country in a very undignified way. He is
a pleasant man in society, and talks well
and with great earnestness. He has an
air of modesty and calmness about him
that is very winning, and is well calcu
lated to make a great impression at first
sight.
Mazzini is a most remarkable man.
I never saw a face upon which was writ
ten more plainly the marks of genius
and intellectual superiority. His face is
handsome, pale and expressive, and his
eye flashes as I never saw eye flash be
fore. lie talks English very well, and
and has a great love for the language.
Ledru Rollin, the great French socia
list and republican leader, is a man cal
culated to produce a marked sensation.
He is large in person, and fine looking.
He speaks English very badly, and it
was quite funny to hear him murdering
the English, and I, in turn, the French.
I could understand nearly all he said to
me in French, which, I fear, is more than
he did when I spoke to him in the same
language.
Pulzsky, you know, is the person who
accompanied Kossuth in America, and
is a very agreeable person.
“ Worcell, the Polish leader, and
Hertzen, the Russian, are men of great
character and eneregy, and although they
were not able to indulge much in con
versation, produced a very favorable
impression.
“ Orsini, the Italian, is the handsom
est man I ever saw. His face is a per
fect study. He is of one of the oldest
families in Italy, and no doubt, you will
remember having often read of the
Orsinis at Rome. He could not talk a
word of English, and yet he seemed to
enjoy everything that passed, as much
as if it had been a meeting of his own
countrymen.
“But the one I liked most of all was
Garabaldi. He completely captivated
the company. He dresses very plainly,
not even deigning to put on a shirt col
lar. Remarkably expressive, his face
lights up as he begins a sentence, and be
fore he concludes there seems to be a
perfect illumination around him. Tic is
emphatically a practical man, and in
stead of remaining stationary, as the rest
of the republican leaders seem to be do
ing, looking on, it is true with intense
anxiety for the “good time coming , ” he
is quietly pursuing his profession, and
earning money for his children’s sup
port. He is a sailor, and brought a ship
from the United States to this country.
Sir Joshau Walmsley, a liberal mem
os Parliament, was also present. Maz
zini is one of the most accomplished
men I ever met. He plays upon the
guitar and sang Italian battle songs
with great taste and spirit. After
twelve o’clock, Washington’s birth-day,
they all sang the Marsellaise, and as
they wanned up with the progress of the
song, their excitement and enthusiasm
became very great. It was altogether
a most singular gathering, and a very
pleasant and agreeable party.”
Samuel C. Reid denies, in the Union,
the statement in reference to the sale of
the Law muskets, by George Sanders, to
the Red Republicans of Europe.
The young lady who caught cold by
drinking out of a damp tumbler, is con
\ales<...i.t.
<®rigiital.
For The Independent Press.
The Haps and Jtlishaph of John
Smith.
John Smith was a hard working man.
Who walked at home, a ploughman there,
Until one day the rumor ran
To the efleet, he was an heir.
Some kinsman in a distant town
Had died and left him an estate,
Enough to buy, Twas said, a crown—
Men envied Mr. Smith his fate.
John bundled up, and off he put
To go and mourn his kinsman dead — «
He walked, for then the plan on foot
Forbade his going on his head.
llis understanding too was good,
A useful thing upon the road—
And it was long as it was broad—
So on lie jogged in merry mood.
And as lie rambled on, his thirst
Increased—his strength began to fail—
He stamped his foot, and raved, and cursed—
Ah! what can ail'! —There is no ule.
Well then he put his speed more out,
And thought a waterfall was nigh;
But close inspection left no doubt
The cataract was “in his eye.”
Next hunger pinched him very sore—
He seized a hot and baking goose , -
But bis digestion was so poor;
He turned the tailor's iron loose.
As hunger pressed him on in haste,
He reached a fire just on ahead
Where baked a pig —his gourmand's taste
Made him abstain—the pig was lead.
Still farther on to buy he thought
Some ha.m and cabbage —never bad—
And felt for money which he brought—
Ham's sons had cabbaged all he had.
Next town he stopped—and now he grew
Quite tired and took a stage coach there,
But even here got in a stew,
Because he thought the fare not fair.
So out lie got, and on he walked,
Till soul as well as body fails-
But even here he’d not be balked.—
He mended up his nails.
At last he got some lood to eat —
'Twas chicken, buzzard, hawk, or owl—
He thought his dinner hard to beat,
Tho’ all he got was very fowl.
But worse distress came on him now—
He had no dimes to pay his way—
llis land-lord scowled with angry brow—
Smith thought the devil was to pay.
He was arrested, held to bail,
But not a friend was on the spot,
For in such ease they often fail,
Just like the bale upon a pot.
So Johnny told his landlord then
He was an heir, and could not stay —
A breath of air oft changes men—
The landlord let him go his way.
lie reached the town where was divided
A crown mid scores that came as heir —
And when the matter was decided
A plough was still Smith’s only share.
He put for home, his plans defeated,
And all his prospects thus did fail—
Hard late indeed to him was meted,
For back he rode upon a rail.
John Smith returned a ploughing man,
And staid at home and labored, there —
And then another rumor ran,
The village heir had turned to air.
April IS th, 1854.
An Eccentric Preacher. —Mur-
ray’s “Handbook of South Italy” is just
published, and contains some curious
stories respecting Fra lioeco, the cele
brated Dominican preacher and the spir
itual Joe Miller, of Naples. On one occa
sion, it is related he preached to the
mob a penitential sermon, and intro
duced so many illustrations of terror,
that he soon brought his hearers to
their knees. While they were thus
showing every sign of contrition, he
cried out, “Now all you who sincerely
repent of your sins, holdup your hands.”
Every man in the vast multitude im
mediately stretched out his hand. “ Ho
ly Archangel Michael,” exclaimed Roc
co, “ thou who with thine adamantine
sword standest at the right of the. judg
ment seat of God, hew me oft' every
hand which has been raised hypocriti
cally.” In an instant every hand drop
ped, and Rocco of course poured forth a
fresh torrent of eloquent invective against
their sins and their deceit. He has a
great dislike to tobacco, and when once
preaching to a crowd of Spanish sailors
he astouded them bv telling them that
there were no Spanish saints in heaven.,
A few, he said, had been admitted, but
they smoked so many cigars, that t hey
made the holy virgin sick; and St. Pe
ter set his wits to work to get them out.
At length he proclaimed that a bull
light was to take place outside the gate
of Paradise. Thereupon every Spanish
saint without exception, ran off to see
the tight, and St. Peter immediately
closed the gates, and shook ca re never to
admit another Spaniard. *
u Kiss me, < llamma, do Kim
me, IcanWgo to Sleep.' I ' l
The child was so sensitive, so like
that little, shrinking plant, that curls at
a breath, and shuts its heart from the
light.
The only beauties she possessed were
I an exceedingly transparent skin, and the
most mournful, large blue eyes.
I had been trained by a very stern,
: strict, conscientious mother, hut I was a
hardy plant, rebounding after every
I shock. Misfortune could not daunt,
! though discipline tamed me. I fancied,
I C 1
alas! that I must go through the same
routine with this delicate creature; so,
one day when she displeased me exceed
ingly, by repeating an offence, I was de
termined to punish her severely. 1 was
very serious all day, and upon sending
her to a little couch I said, “now my
daughter, to punish you, and show you
; how, very, very naughty you have been,
| I cannot kiss you to-night.”
I She stood looking at me, astonish
| ment personified, with her great, mourn
j ful eyes wide open. I suppose she had
I forgotten her misconduct till then; and
; I left her with the big tears dropping
down her cheeks, and her little, red lips
quivering.
Presently I was sent for—“Oh! mam
ma, you will kiss me; J. can't go to sleep
if you don’t,” she sobbed, every tone of
her voice trembling, and she held out
her little hands.
Now came the struggle between love
and what I falsely termed duty. My
heart said, give her the kiss of peace;
my stern nature urged me to persist in
my correction, that I might impress the
fault upon her mind. That was the way
I had been trained, till I was a most sub
missive child, and I remembered how of
ten I had thanked my mother since, for
her straight-forward course.
I knelt by the bed-side. “Mother
can’t kiss you Ellen,” I whispered though
every word choked me. Her hand
loucjicd uync: it very hot, but 1 at
tributed it to her excitement. She turned
her little grieving face to the wall. 1
blamed myself as the fragile form shook
with half-suppressed sobs, and saying,
“Mother hopes little Ellen will learn to
mind her after this,” left the room for the
night.
It might have been about 12 when I
was awakened by my nurse. Apprehen
sive, 1 ran eagerly to the child’s chamber.
1 had had a fearful dream.
Ellen did not know me; she was sit
ting up, crimsoned from her forehead to
her throat, her eyes so bright I almost
: drew back aghast at their glances. Front
that night, a raging fever drank up her
life —and what, think you, was the inces
sant plaint poured into my anguished
heart—“Oh, kiss me, mother! do kiss me
—I can’t go to sleep! you’ll kiss your lit
i tie Ellen, mother, won’t you? I can’t
go to sleep. I won’t be naughty, if you'll
only kiss me! Oh! kiss me, dear mam
ma, I can’t go to sleep.”
Holy little angel! she did go to sleep
one grey morning, and she never woke
again—never! Her hand was locked in
mine, and all rav veins grew icy with its
gradual chill. Faintly the light faded out
in the beautiful eyes— whiter and whiter
grew the tremulous lips. Site never
knew me; but with her last breath she
whispered : “ I’ll be good, mother if you
will only kiss me.”
Kiss her! God knows how passionate,
but unavailing, were my kisses upon her
cheek, after that fatal night. God knows
how wild were mv prayers that she might
know, if but only once, that I kissed her.
God knows how I would have ycildcd up
my very life, could .1 have asked forgive
ness of that sweet child.
Well! grief is unavailing now. She
lies in her little tomb; there’is a marble
urn at her head, and a rose bush at her
feet: there grow sweet flowers; there
waves the gentle grass ; there birds sing
their matins and vespers: there the blue
skv smiles down to-day, and there lies
the freshness of my heart.
The extravagaiM rents asked by Broad
way landlords is illustrated in the fact
that one of the stores in the old North
American Hotel, corner of Barclay street
and Broadway, (7 by 18!) has just been
let for the sum of $ 1200 per annum.
The real and personal property of the
city of New York, this year is assessed
at $488,000,000, which is an increase of
7,000,000, over last year.
The expenses of the Crystal Palace
are said to exceed its receipts at present
$225 per day.
ty in London is calculated to be two and
a quarter billion dollars.
j terms, 32,00 Aim
jjrOTitiae 'is. 0. Crtucett.
The Forest Tamer a.
\ Thebe is much justice in the follow
ing, except so tar as it seems to make a
reproach against the • Xew Englander
I that he did not lead on to our \Vesteru
i border wars and drive back the red-man,
| for our advancing population. The an
swer is, that the New Englander lives
too far oft'to fling himself, with a band
of equally hardy men, upon the hostile
wilderness, and still more to do it, as a
solitary adventurer. Nor was he a hun
ter, as they who led on these wild-wood
colonies were forced, from the very na
ture of things to be. The Yankee was
therefore obliged to wait until the way
had been cleared for him:
The New York Times argues to prove
that the settlement of the Western coun
try is mainly due to Sotherners, and
that the New Englanders only turned
towards the setting sun, after the South
ern pioneer had blazed the pathway in
to the forest, and when the comforts of
civilization and the profits of speculation
began to show themselves.
“We are debtors,” says the Times , “to
our Southern brethren beyond all the
computation of arithmetic. They arc
the men to settle new regions. Tin;
glory of such pioneers as Boone, Ken
ton, Ridley, belongs to the descendents
of the Chavaliers, and Scotch and Irish,
i But for their heroic enterprise, the
West would have been longer continued
inaccessible to the Anglo-Saxon race.
In the hand of those men arid their com
peers the axe and the rifle did wonders.,
and civilization laid foundations beside
noble rivers. The shrewd Yankee fig
uring at his notions and figuring on his
slate, soon followed at their heels, and
logeabins were, besieged for barter.
| Now, all this is opportune, as vindicating
i the martial honors—hardly yet celebra
ted as they deserve—of the bold mew
j chiefly V irginians, who won Kentucky
; and conquered Ohio for us, by as hard
I lighting and as much endurance as w*s
i ever displayed in any long series of
| warlike expeditions. It was a stalwart
; race, and seldom has any race offered
! brighter instances of individual heroism
! than abounds in the early annals of
j Kentucky. The names of the three
; Lewises and of Rogers Clark are very
, noble ones: and New England cannot
parallel them in all hersufUeiently boast
ed but far less fierce and romantic In
dian wars. But who questions that she
| knows how to light, as well as work or
(traffic? She is not tougher at a bar
! gain than in a battle. We love, as u
| Southern man, to do her justice; and see
! as little sense as liberality in attempting
j to depreciate that region of sturdy men,
! who have done so much for the Ameri
can name, for American prosperity and
greatness. Let us give her her praise;
and while we emulate and, if we can,
i surpass it, let us love her. We who
i write this know her thoroughly, and
know that both she and wc have need
of nothing so much as to understand
each other bet ter and to shake off. instead
of cultivating, many shameful prejudices
that 'separate us.
Popular Education. — The Wash
ington correspondent of the New York
Times, in giving the statistics of ignor
ance in the t inted States, remarks;
The most, casual reader will not fail
to observe the striking disparity bet ween
the number of persons who neither
read nor write in those States respective
ly, where the Common School system
prevails and those which provide no
such universal education for their youth.
Massachusetts for instance, with a
populatian of 994,504, has but 185 L na
tive-born adults who are thus illiterate :
while Virginia, with a population less
than one half greater, shows 77,005
whites iii the same, ignorant condition.
Louisiana with a population of 255,491
whites shows 21,221 natives who do not
read nor write, against only 40,670 in
New York, which has a white popula
tion of 8,049,825, near twelve times as
great, as that of Louisana. Comparisons
of this sort —however disagreeable to
the States where education is limited in
its sphere—cannot fail to induce profita
ble reflection, and stimulate to efforts for
improvement.
The Jong pending case in the criminal
court in Washington, of Fuller vs.
Schaumberg, was brought to a termina
tion on Monday by the rendition of the
verdict of the jury. Tim verdict was,
J Kiss
NUMBER '%