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■ r *—*— —» , me Mwiiiim mss. .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 '%