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j, .west rates. TERMS INVARIABLY*'ASH.
WINTER WILL NOT BAST FOREVER.
Winter will not lust forever :
Spring will soon come forth again.
And. with flowers of every color,
Deck the hillside and the plain.
Lambs will soon in fields be sporting,
Birds re-echo from each tree
' • Winter's gone ! its days are ended!
We are happy—we are free!"
Hedge and tree will soon be budding.
Soon with leaves be covered o'er :
Winter cannot last forever ;
Brighter days are yet in store.
Sorrow will not last forever,
Brighter times will come again,
Joy our every grief succeeding.
As the sunshine after lain.
As the snow and ice of winter,
Melt at the approach of Spring,
So will all our cares and trials,
Joy, and peace, and. comfort bring.
When the heart is sad and drooping,
Think, though you be vexed sore.
Sorrows cannot last forever ;
Brighter days are yet in store.
OX GATHERING WILD ROSES.
The flowers that in our pathway spring.
These are rejected—
The blessings every hour may bring
These are neglected :
But blossoms blooming up on high,
Beyond our reach, against the sky,
For these we pine, for these we sigh. i
To seize some tempting distant spray,
Waving above ns, far away,
Wi crush what in our footpath lay.
Those common things, we heed them not,
To be despised is sure their lot.
Trifles but made to be forgot!
But oh'. those lovely far-off thinqs,
To those, to those, my spirit clings!—
Oh. had I but an angel's wings.
To soar away beyond the earth,
Beyond its woe, beyond its mirth,
And triumph in a heavenly birth!
'Tis thus we yearn and strive in vain,
< 'rushing our pleasuees into pain,
Till they can never bloom again.
.
THE WINDOW ON THE PORCH.
How came the window open on that
stormy morning? It was the old,old story,
tin- >tory of young hearts and old heads.—
Two young people falling in love with each
other ; a person in tiie shape of a father
disapproving ; the lover poor, the lather
rich : the girl divided between duty and af
fection for her parent and passionate tend
i in ss for her lover ; and Love triumphing
in tiie long-run as he generally does.
This was why the parlor window stood
wide open tiiat stormy morning; for at'
twelve the nignt before she had come down
to him, wrapped in white furs and a crim
son hood, and had sobbed, "Oh, Charles, I
am very, very wicked, and unless Fa for
gives me God never will !" which theologi- i
cal statement Charles combated bravely,
and proved beyond a doubt (to his own
heart at least) that there was no harm in
marrying whom one loved.
Trembling and sobbing softly, though j
there was no danger of being heard amidst
the gusts of wind and the creaking of the
hare dm branches, she let him lead her on
tenderly over the soft snow until a dark oh- \
j'rt under the trees slowly developed itself
i" their eyes as a sleigh and two horses,
and aii old driver, who had been beating
his arms against his breast to keep himself
warm, helped the lady in, with a gruff sort |
1 sympathy. And away they glided, the j
black horses before them, and the white
snow about thcin, falling softly, softly over j
them, and Janet's head lying upon Charlie's
breast, and her little fur-clad form nestled
close to his. 1 hey were foolish little peo
ple. but not wicked, whom those black
horses whirled over the white snow to Hy
men's altar that hitter winter's night so
long ago.
When they found that balcony window
open in the gray morning's dawn,and found
also a penitential letter blotted with tears,
and an empty bed, the pillows of which
had not been rumpled, pursuit was useless; j
for Janet Grey had promised to love, honor, j
and obey Charles Oliver, and he had vowed ;
io love and cherish her until death did them j
part
Forgive them—never !" So passionate j
Id Robin Grey vuwed, with many an ex-j
pletive not to be written here. Forgive j
•'<T ! The serpent warmed in his bosom to
sting him at last. From his heart and his I
home she had gone forth of her own free j
*'ill, and an exile from both she must re- j
main forever.
Tour Janet,she had loved her father dear
-I'oor old man, he had no one on earth
! "tt that pretty petted daughter, who had
■if out as much idea of the life before her as
A baby might have had
-he had married a sailor, second mate of j
'he Bonnie Lassie, who made voyages to j
Last Indies and brought home cargoes 1
S piees and sweet-scented woods and fruit
and rare confections, hut who did not al
ays bring home those who went with her; ;
1 1 m those warm latitudes fevers arc rife, j
j" many a sailor in his hammock shroud
■as floated from his moorings to the Spice '
ands, while at home many a young wife
m hatched fur the good ship which should
" r husband to her never more,
iiioe months of innocent delirium, the
or i seeming made for them, and only
eis worthy to breathe its air. Then came
E. O. OOODBICH, Publisher.
VOLUME XXV.
the awakening. Burly Captain Thomas
broke the dream with his "Ahoy, messmate,
where away ?"
They were rambling together in the sha
i dy paths of Washington Parade Ground,
and he came upon them. •
0 How are you, Captain ? "Glad 4o see
you. This is my wife." And how proud he
. was to show the pretty child, with her long
. curls and blue eyes and dainty waist and
waxen white hands with her sixteen happy
summers scarcely told upon her brow,
j, The Captain bowed. " Heared you was
spliced," he said. " You couldn't have
moored alongside of a prettier craft, my
j lad. Though she don't look as though she'd
weather through a storm. Never expect
to follow your example myself though. The
j Bonnie Lassie is my wife. You know she
sails to day week."
" Ay, ay," said Charlie. " Why should I
forget ?"
" Sumat better to think on, p'raps," said
the Captain. " Fair weather, shipmate.—
Respects, mum."
And away he went,feet wide apart,hands
in both pockets, and gait that of one who,
used to a rolling vessel, seems when on
laud always to expect the world to give a
suddeD lurch, and who tries to be on his
guard against it.
Janet looked up into Charlie's face with
fearful eyes.
" What did he mean, Charlie ?"
" He is Captain Thomas, of the Bonnie
Lassie, love."
j. "Well?"
" That's all, dear."
"And the Bonnie Lassie is your ship ?"
" Yes."
| " And she sails to-iflorrow week ?"
" To-day week."
"Charlie."
" Love."
" Of course the horrible thought never
: entered your mind of going with her."
" I must"
"Oh no: you want to frighten me. 1
couldn't live, you know. Oh, Charlie, I feel
like fainting. I'm all alone. I have nobody.
Pa will never speak to me again. Charlie,
laugh —say 'lt's all fun, Janet.' "
" I wish I could. My dear, you knew
your husband was a sailor when you mar
ried him."
" Yes; but I never thought he would be
iso cruel as to leave me. Charlie, I really
think 1 shall die."
Her pretty baby face was so white and
wan, and her hands so cold, that he was
frightened. They sat down upon a bench
together, and then she pleaded to go with
him—only to go with him any where and
any how.
" A long dangerous voyage. He could
not think of it." And her answer was :
" A dangerous voyage ! And I to stay
at home and listen and hear the wind blow,
and think of you. Charlie stay at home if
| you care for me."
Poor Charlie ! He held her to his breast
in the shadow of the old Park, and tried to
teach her her first lesson—how money must
be earned, and how men must earn it; how
a sailor bred could be nothing but a sailor ;
how as a man he must discharge his duty,
and never have to think that he had drag
ged her from the sheltered home of luxury
to suffer poverty and all its ills ; how, in
fact,
" Men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner 'tis over the sooner to sleep."
It was very hard to learn, and the poor
girl-wife could not comprehend it. As for
going with him,old Captain Thomas, an old
fashioned sailor, who boasted that he never
"crept in at the cabin windows," and never
studied navigation out of a book, but fought
his way up from cabin-boy—that old salt
water would never have consented to have
a women on board, in view of all manner
of traditionary ill-luck—storms, shipwrecks,
etc., etc. There comes some such episode
to every young wife in a modified form.
Janet could see no necessity for this voy
age. Only cruel choice.
That fortnight all tears and lamentation.
That parting for six months—six eternities
t<i her. Charlie and Janet had grief enough
in their two loving hearts to fill this world
and leave a surplus for some other.
At last the day came,and he left her faint
ing and .vent crying like a child.
Then Janet was all alone, and thought
that she should die. When her tears re
fused to flow so freely as at first,which was
not for many weeks, she found some com
fort in an old piano, a sweet-toned thing,
and very, very shabby, that stood in the
parlor of her boarding-house, but her songs
were always sad ; a wounded bird dying
in her nest and calling for her mate could
not have uttered notes more pitiful to lis
ten to. Only now and then when a letter
came she brightened up for a awhile. But
at last six months were gone and there
came no letter. The ship must be at hand,
that of course was it. He, Charlie, would
be here very, very soon ; but no Charlie
came: those who waited for the Bonnie
Lassie saw her not. No letters, 110 Charlie;
another month—another—another—still no
news One morning she stood by the win
dow watching,and the landlady came to her.
She was a good woman, and hesitated to
speak ; but her boarding-house only kept
her out of poverty, and this blue-eyed girl
was a boarder after all. So she said : "Mrs.
Oliver, I don't like to tell you—but—but "
"Oh you've heard ill news of Charlie!"
and Janet, turning with ashen cheek, clung
to her arm.
" No, my dear. Oh no, thank goodness,
it's quite different ! Your husband paid
your board for six months in advance, you
know."
"Yes."
"Well—ahem. It's—it's nearly ten
months since he went, and I'm quite poor,
and I'm often cheated, very often, and, the
fact is, can you pay me ?"
"I ? Oh no. Charles—Mr. Oliver will
settle with you the moment he returns."
" Y-e s—but it's no use mincing matters,
my dear. I'd be glad to wait. But are you
sure lie will come back ? The sea is treach
erous,and they say sailors have also,' a wife
in every port.' There, now, don't take on
so. Haven't you relations, or somebody
who will help you ?"
" My father, I'll go to my father," said
poor Janet. " He will forgive me noiv ;"and
she left the house as a weary child might
have done, longing for the good old breast
that used to be her shelter. Far out of
town the homestead stood, and its doors
were locked,and its windows barred against
her. A strange servant canjc at her sum
mons : she had anticipated that, and writ
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., JANUARY 26, 1865.
ten a few lines begging that he would see
her. They were returned to her. On the
envelope was written, " I have no longer a
daughter : she is dead to me."
Janet Oliver went back to the city board
ing-house, and thei e that night a babe was
born to her. A wailing thing that strug
gled for life and won it at last ; and Janet
holding it against her breast felt that a
fragment of her Charlie's life lay there, and
clung to it as a drowning man will cling to
the frailest floating thing. But for those
little hands—those strange, ignorant eyes,
that precious nothing holding the embryo
soul, Charles Oliver's wife would have let
go of life and floated away upon the sea of
death that night. Her baby kept her alive;
and now her watch,her rings, her little jew
eled keepsakes began to go —by-and by her
costlier clothes,the white furs she had wrap
ped herself in when she eloped that night
with him. One by one every thing went,
save some cotton gowns, her hood, and a
large shawl. At last came the climax.
She stood with her babe before the land
lady, and the woman said, though not un
kindly.
" Mrs. Oliver, I'm sorry for you ; but you
have a father,and he mlist keep you-/ can't."
And Janet took her child and went out in
to the midwinter afternoon. She had no
hope of her father's pity ; but she said,
"We can die, my child and I, within sight
of the old house ; and perhaps he may for
give me when he sees me dead." Then an
other hope entered her soul; she would
wrap the child up carefully ; the little one
might live, and he would have mercy on
that for its innocence.
Poor girl, she had no money for a stage
fare ; she plodded on through the cold
streets and out upon the weary road for
hours ; and it grew dark and darker; eight
was rung from the city clocks, nine, ten,
and only then, by the clear frosty moonlight,
she saw the roof of her father's homestead,
with the elms about it leafless as they had
been when she fled from it with Charles.
She had matured her plans, and dragged
her weary steps to the porch. Upon it
those deep windows opened to the ground.
There she would lie down, and in the morn
ing they would find her there dead. Ah,
poor child ! I hardly dare tell what she
had done, it was so wicked ; but she was
very miserable. At the bottom of her pock
et lay a vial labeled "laudanum."
So at last she stood before those windows,
and one of them was open—wide open at
half past ten on a night in midwinter !
God had opened it for her. So she said.
And even then she knew not the strange
truth of her words.
" Oh, my home J" she wailed softly. " Oh,
my father ! I will go in. I will lie in my
little bed I will die there, and my babe
will live, and all good angels help her to be
a better child to father than I have been."
So she crept in on tip-toe, unfastening
her shoes, and leaving them without, that
she might make no noise whatever.
She gained her little room. By the moon
light she saw that it wa just as she had
left it, and must have been carefully kept
from changes. The sleeping babe was laid
upon the soft pillow, and then she thought
of her garments lying in the bureau'draw
ers. Were they there yet? It would be
more seemly to die in clean, fresh, white
robes than in those travel-stained clothes
which she wore. So she peeped in, and
found the white raiment, and put it on, and
then she knelt to pray—to pray with a vial
of poison in one hand, with mad suicide in
her heart.
As she knelt she faced the door, and her
eye glancing thither, she saw a light glanc
ing up and down the wall, and heard a foot
step. Could it be her father ? She crept
to the door and lookod. Along the stairs
came the man-servant bearing a light, com
ing stealthily with a strange look on his
face—the strange man-servant who had
turned her from the door by her father's or
ders months before, and whose wicked face
had haunted her ever since. Where was
he going—what was he going to do ?
She watched him with a heart suddenly
stilled in its beating, and saw him enter her
father's chamber door.
Then she made haste to follow him as
fast as her trembling limbs could carry her.
Not too soon. She saw as she crept in an
open safe, a rifled chest, papers and gold
upon the floor, and the servant's form bend
ing over her father struggling.
She uttered a shriek and sprang forward.
In prison afterwards the villain said he fan
cied her a spirit, and the sight benumbed
his arm. He started, half arose, and with
this opportunity the strong and vigorous
old man recovered his surprise,and turning
on him had him down in an instant.
He knew his child ; he knew she had
saved him ; but this was no time to think
of that. He only said, " Raise the window,
Janet, and call for John, the coachman."—
And Janet obeyed. In a few moments that
wiry rascal 011 the floor had 110 chance of es
cape ; he was bound hand and foot,and lay
there whining.
And Janet was in her father's arms. She
had led him to the bed where her baby lay,
and had told him all. He had known noth
ing of her woe, even of the baby's birth.—
To his mind she had been joyful in her
young love, ungrateful to him. Cod had
left the door open indeed, though the in
strument had been a murderous servant's
hand, who, feared the watchful ear of honest
John, had thought to steal out noiselessly
through it. Janet had entered her old home
to save her father's life and to creep into
his heart once more.
The Bonnie Lassie, and good old Captain
Thomas, and a host of honest sailors were
never seen again, for the sea opened its
great arms and enfolded them to it breast
forever. But a little island in the ocean had
room enough for one brave foot, and, with
so much to live for, Charles Oliver battled
with the waves, and with thirst, and hun
ger, And death-like solitude, and watched,
and prayed, and waited, feeding on roots,
and berries, and strange fruits until at last
sails greeted his eyes, and a vessel hove in
sight, and the voice of living men greeted
him once more.
He came home to Janet, and lorg ago
forgiven by her father in his fancied death
lie was not refused forgiveness living.
And so the old love-dreams were realized
and the shadows banished, and as much of
joy as can come to earthly beings came to
those who lived together in the old home
stead among the elms. And to her chil
dren, in the twilight, ay, and to her grand
children, perhaps, by this time, Janet Oliver
has often told tae story of the open window
j on the porch.
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER.
ORIGIN OF THE CHIVALRY.
Eilrßrta from an Addrrmi Dflivcml by Hon.
Charlfi Sumner, in Siexv York, November 5,
1864.
TWO ELEMENTAL FORCES, SLAVERY AND LIBERTY
FACE TO FACE.
A glance only at the immediate origin of
this war is enough for the present occasion.
But, in crder to dispel all darkness and to
determine our duty, let me take you for a
few moments back to the distant origin, of
the elemental forces which are now in dead
ly conflict.
Looking at the question abstractedly,
these two elemental forces are nothing hut
slavery and liberty. It is aim ist superfluous
to add that these are natural enemies, and
cannot exist together. Where slavery is
there liberty cannot be, and where liberty
is there slavery cannot be. To uphold slave
ry there must be an uncompromising denial
of liberty ; to uphold liberty there must he
au uncompromising denial of slavery. Each
in self defence must stifle the other. There
fore between the two there is a constant
hostility and undying hate. This eternal
warfare is not peculiar to our country. It
belongs to the nature of universal man. If
it fails to show itself anywhere, it is be
cause slavery has won its most detestable
triumph, and blotted out the heaven-born
sentiment of freedom. Circumstances a
moug us, going back to our earliest histo
ry, have given unprecedented activity to
these two incompatible principles, and have
at last brought them into bloody battle face
to face. But it is only a part of the uni
versal conflict which must endure so long
as a single slave shall wear a chain. Slave
ry itself is a state of war, ready to burst
forth in blood whenever the slave reclaims
that liberty which is his right, or whenever
mankind refuses to sanction its" inhuman
pretensions.
THE SLAVE-SHIP, AND THE MAYFLOWER IN 1620.
Go back to the earliest days of colonial
history, and you will find the conflict al
ready preparing. It was in 1620 that nine
teen slaves were landed in Jamestown,
in Virginia —the first that ever pressed the
soil of our country. In that same year the
Pilgrims landed at Plymouth. Those two
cargoes contained the hostile germs which
have ripened to our times. They fitly sym
bolize our gigantic strife. On the one side
is the slave-ship, and on the other is the
Mayflower. Early events derive impor
tance as we learn to recognize' their un
doubted consequences, and these two ships
may be regarded hereafter with additional
interest, when it is seen that in them were
the beginnings of the present war.
Perhaps in all the romantic legends of
the sea there is nothing more striking than
the contrast presented by those two ves
sels. Each had ventured forth upon an un
tried and perilous ocean to find an unknown
and distant coast, In this they were alike;
but in all else how unlike! One was
freighted with human beings forcibly torn
from their own country, and hurried away
in chains to be sold as slaves. The other
was filled with good men, who had volun
tarily turned their backs upon, their own
country to seek other homes, where at least
they might be free. One was heavy with
curses and sorrow. The other was lifted
with anthem and with praj-er And thus,
at the same time, beneath tlje same sun,
over the same waves, theyfouud their way.
It requires no effort of imagination to see
on board one of those ships Slavery, and
on board of the other Liberty, traversing
the ocean to continue here on this broad
continent their immitigable war.
There is no record of what passed in the
cabin of the slave-ship before the landing'
of the slaves. The wail of slavery, the
clank of chains, and the voice of the mas
ter counting the price of his cargo, there
might have been. But the cabin of the
Mayflower another scene, of which there is
an authentic record, as the whole company,
by solemn compact, deliberately constituted
themselves a body politic, and set the grand
example of a Christian commonwealth,
thus indicating the character which had
been claimed for them, as " knit together in
a strict and sacred bond, by virtue of which
they held themselves bound to take care of
the good of each other and of the whole."
And so these two voyages closed.
INFLUENCE OF THE TWO SHIPS.
Look at the early social life of the two
warring sections, and you will see the influ
ence of the two ships. Virginia continued
to be supplied with slaves, so that slavery
became a part of herself. On the other
hand, New England always set her face
against slavery. To her great honor, in an
age when slavery was less condemned than
now, the legislature of Massachusetts cen
sured a ship-master who had " fraudulently
and injuriously brought a negro from Guin
ea," and, by solemn vote, resolved that the
negro should be' sent back without delay;"
and not long after enacted the law of Ex
odus, " If any man stealeth a man, he shall
surely be put to death." Thus at that
early day stood Virginia and New England;
for such at that time was the designation
of the two provinces which divided British
America by a line of demarkatiou very
nearly coincident with the recent slave line I
of our Republic.
OPPOSITE CHARACTER OF THE SETTLERS OF VIRGIN
IA AND NEW ENGLAND,
But the contrast between the two colonies,
as illustrated by those two voyages, ap
pears equally in the opposite character of
their respective settlers. Like seeks like,
and the Pilgrims of the Mayflower were
followed by others of similar virtues—
whose first labors on landing were to build
churches and schools. Many of them had
the best education in England ; some were
men of substance, and there was no pover
ty among them that could cause a blush,
while all were most exact and exemplary
in conduct. They were a branch of that
grand Puritan stock, to which, according to
the reluctant confession of Hume, " the
English were indebted for the whole free
dom of their Constitution." We are told
by Burke that there is a sacred veil to be
drawn over the beginnings of all govern
ments. and that where this is not happily
supplied by time, it must be found in a dis
creet silence. But no veil is needed for the
Puritan settlers of New England. It is
very different with the early settlers of Vir
ginia, recruited from the castaways and
shirks of Old England, and mostly needy
men, of desperate fortuues and dissolute
lives, who cared nothing for churches or
schools. Such people naturally became
slave-masters. I should not lift the veil
which charity would kindly draw over those
i early settlers, if a just knowledge of their
character had not become important to il
lustrate the origin of our troubles.
ABSIRD PRETENCE THAT VIRGINIA WAS SETTLED BY
CAVAI.IEUS.
It is a common boast of our slave-mas
ters that they constitute a modern " chiv
alry," derived from the " cavaliers " of En
gland, and reinforced by the ennobling in
fluence of African Slavery. This boast has
been so often repeated, that it has obtained
a certain acceptance among those most fa
miliar with our early history ; and even
well informed persons have allowed them
selves to say that the conflict in which we
are now engaged is a continuance of the
old war between the Cavaliers and Round
heads. So far as it is intended to say that
the war is a part of the ever-recurring con
flict between slavery and liberty, there can
be no objection to this illustration. Rut if
it be intended to say that the rebels are
"cavaliers," or the descendants of cavaliers,
there is just ground for objection. I know
not if the armies of the Union, now fight,
iug the world's greatest battle for human
rights, may not be called roundheads ; but
I am sure that the rebels,, now fighting for
slavery, cannot be called "cavaliers" in any
sense. They are not so in character, as
barbarisiy attests. And they are as little
| so historically.
The whole pretension is a preposterous
I absurdity by which the country has been
j already too much deceived. It is not ered
| itable to the general intelligence that such
j a folly should be allowed to play such a
I part. Unquestionably there were settlers
i in Virginia, as there were also in New Eng
| land, connected with aristocratic families.
! But they were so few in each colony as not
I to modify essentially the prevailing popu
lation, which took its character from the
mass rather than from any individual. The
origin of Virginia is so well authenticated
as to leave little doubt with regard to the
character of its population, unless you re
ject all the concurrent testimony of cotem
porarics and all the concurrent admission
of historians Perhaps there is nothing in
our eurly history with regard to which the
authorities are so various and so clear.—
From their very abundance, it is difficult to
choose.
TRI'E CHARACTER OF SETTLERS OF VIRGINIA.
1 begin with the early patron of Virginia,
Lord Delaware, who after visiting the colo
ny described the people there in a letter
dated at Jamestown, July 7, 1610, as "men
of distempered bodies and infected minds,
whom no examples daily before their eyes,
either of goodness or punishment, can de
ter from their habitual impieties or terrify
from a shameful death." (Strachey's His
tory ; preface, p 32.) Language cannot be
stronger.
But the colony, which began with bad
men, was increased by worse. *ln 1619
King James wrote to the Virginia company
commanding them " to send a hundred dis
solute persons to Virginia, whom the Knight
Marshal shall deliver." (Strachey's His
tory of Virginia ; vol. 1, p. 168.) Thus by
royal command was this colony* made a
Botany 7 Bay.
The company, not content with the "hun
dred dissolute persons" supplied by the
King's order, entreated for more, until
Captain John Smith, the hero of Virginia,
was moved to express his disgust. He tes
tifies to the evil when he wrote in 1622 :
" Since I came from thence, the honorable
company have been humble suitors to his
Majesty to get vagabond -and condemned
men to go thither ; nay, so much scorned
was the name of Virginia, some did choose
to be hanged ere they would go thither, and
were." (Smith's New England Trials, 1622)
This was bad enough.
But the Virginia company seem to have
been insensible to the shame of such a set
tlement. Its agents and orators vindicated
the utility of the colony on this account.
In a work entitled " Nova Brittania, offer- !
ing most excellent fruits by planting in ,
Virginia," published in Loudon in 1609, and 1
dedicated to " one of his majesty's council !
for Virginia," it was openly argued, that j
unless " swarms of idle persons in lewd i
and naughty practices" were sent abroad
"we must provide shortly more prisons and ,
corrections for their bad conditions ;" and j
that it was " most profitable for our state ,
to rid our multitudes of such as lie at-home !
pestering the land with pestilence and pe-!
nury, and infecting one another with vice
ami villany, worse than the plague itself."
Dr. Donne, dean of St. Paul's, poet also, in
a sermon "preached to the honorable com
pany of the Virginia plantation, 13th No- j
vember, 1622," thus sets forth the merits j
of the colony : " The plantation shall re- j
deem many a wretch from the laws of death; i
from the hands of the executioner. It shall
sweep your streets and wash your doors
from idle persons, and the children of idle
persons, and employ them." Such were
the puffs by which recruits were gained for
Virginia.
History records the unquestionable re
sult, and here the authorities multiply. Sir
Jonathan Child, in his " Discourse of the
Trade of the Plantations," published in 1698,
says : " Virginia and Barbadoes were first
peopled by a sort of loose vagrant people.
Had it not have been for our plantations,
they must have come to be hanged or starved
or sold for soldiers." Dr. Douglass, in his
Colonial History, printed in 1649, gives the
following testimony : " Our plantations in
America, New England excepted, have been
generally settled : 1. By malcontents from
the administrations from time to time. 2.
By fraudulent debtors as a refuge from
creditors ; and 3, by convicts or criminals
who chose transportation rather than death."
(Douglass' History, Vol. 2, p 428.) Gra
ham, the Scotch historian, who has written
so conscientiously of our country, speaking,
of the first settlers, says of Virginia : "A
great proportion of these irnw emigrants
consisted of profligates and licentious
youths, sent from England by their friends,
with the hope of changing their destinies,
or for the purpose of screening them from
the justice or contempt of their country ; *
* * with others like these, more
likely to corrupt or prey upon an infant
commonwealth than to foster it." (Graham's
United States, Vol. 1, p. 54.) The historian
of Virginia, William Stith,.whose work was
published at Williamsburg in the last cen
tury, is not less explicit; " I cannot but re
mark," he says, " how early that custom
arose of transporting loose and dissolute
persons to Virginia, as a place of punish
ment and disgrace, which although origin
ally designed for the advancement and in
crease of the polony, yet has certainly
proved a great prejudice and biudrance to
its growth ; for it hath laid one of the fi-
Jfl3 per Annum, in Advance.
| nest countries of British America under the
unjust scandal of being a mere hell upon
earth, another Siberia, and only fit for the
reception of malefactors and the vilest of
the people ; so that few, at least few large
bodies of people, have been induced will
ingly to transport themselves to such a
place, and your younger sisters, the north
ern colonies, have profited thereby." (Stith's
j History of Virginia, Vol. 1, p. 165.) Hut
) this is not all. Another historian of Yir
! ginia of our day, whose work was publish
] ed at Richmond, in 184f>, while showing
J that pride in his State which would change
i every settler into a " cavalier," has been
j compelled to make the following most rue
ful confession : " Gentl%men reduced to
poverty by gaming and extravagauce, too
proud to beg,too lazy to dig—broken trades
men, with some stigma or fraud yet cling
ing to their names—footmen, who had ex
pended in the mother country the last shred
of honest reputation that was ever held—
rakes consumed with disease anil shattered
in the service of impurity— libertines whose
race of sin was not yet run—and unruly
sparks packed off by their friends to es
cape worse dest'nies at home—these were
the men who came to aid in founding a na
tion, and to transmit to posterity their own
immaculate impress." (Howison, History
of Virginia, Vol. 1, p. 169.) And this same
historian confesses that social life in Vir
ginia, beginning in such baseness, after
more than a century, had developed "an
aristocracy neither of talent, nor learning,
nor moral worth, but of land and slave in
terest." (Ibid, Vol. 2, p. 201.) So much
for the testimony of history, even when
written and printed in Virginia.
I know not the number of desperate per
sons.shipped to Virginia ; but there was
enough to leave an indelible impression on
the colony, and to give it a name in the lit
erature of the time. It was this colony
which suggested to Bacon the most preg
nant words of one of his essays, which
furnished to De Foe several striking
passages in one of his romances, and which
provoked Massiuger to a dialogue in one
of his dramas. Let me glance for one mo
ment at these illustrations.
It is in the essay on " Plantations," that
Bacon thus brands the early settlement of
Virginia : "It is a shameful and unblessed
thing to take the scum of people and
wicked condemned men to be the people
with whom you plant ; and not only so,but j
it spoileth the plantation, for they will ever |
live like rogues." (Bacon's Essays, 33.) j
Surely there is nothing here out of which to
construct a " cavalier."
In the narrative of Moll Flanders, the
author of Robinson Crusoe, who gives to j
all his sketches this lifelike character that j
they seem to be sun-pictures, exhibits this !
same colony. Here is a glimpse : " The ;
greater part of the inhabitants were of two I
sorts, Ist, such as were brought over by j
the masters of the ships to be sold as ser- i
vants ; 2d, such as were transported, after !
having been found guilty of crimes punish- j
able with death. When they come here we j
make no difference ; the planters buy them,
and they work together in the fields till
their time is out. * * * Hence '
many a Newgate-bird becomes a great
man. We have several justices of the
peace, officers of the trained bands and
magistrates of the town they live in, that
have been burnt in the hand. * * Some
of the best men in the country are burnt in
the hand, ard are not ashamed to own it. ,
There's Major , he was an eminent
pickpocket ; there's Justice B r, he was j
a shoplifter. Both of them are burnt in j
the hand, and I could name you several
such as they are" (Fortunes and Misfor
tune of the Famous Moll Flanders, p. 88.) t
Nothing is said here of '"cavaliers."
I have referred to Massinger. Here is a
curious bit from one of the grave comedies
of that poet dramatist :
" Luke. It is but to Virginia.
Lady Frugal. How! Virginia!
High Heaven forbid! Remember, sir, I beseech yon -
What creatures are shipped thither.
Anne. Condemned wretches,
Forfeited to the law ;
For the abomination of their life,
Spewed out of their own country."
The City Madam, .-let P., sc, 1. j
Thus from every quarter the testimony '
accumulates. And yet we are constantly
told that Virginia was settled by " caval
iers."
EAULY SETTLERS OE SOCTH CAROLINA.
The territory now occupied by South
Carolina originally constituted a part of
Virginia that it was carved into a separate
colony. Although differing in some re-!
spects, the population seem to have been
kindred in character. Ramsay, the histori-!
an of the State, in a work published at j
Charlestown, in 1809, says that "the CII-I
igrants were a medley of different nations I
and principals," and that among them were j
persons " who took refuge from the powers j
of fortune and the rigor of creditors; young j
men, reduced to misery by folly and excess;;
and restless spirits, fond of roving." To j
these were added Huguenots, driven from
France by the revocation of the edict of I
Nantes. (Ramsay's History of South Car- i
olina, pp. 2, 3, 5.)
But Graham tells us that "not a trace of!
the existence of an order of clergymen is <
to be found in the laws of Carolina during j
the first twenty years of its history."—
(History of United States, Vol, 2, p. 88.) j
And another historian says that "the in
habitants, far from living in friendship and
harmony anong themselves, were seditious ,
and ungovernable." (Hewitt's History J
of South Carolina. Vol. 1, p. 104.)
Such a people were naturally insensible to i
moral distinctions, so that, according to
Hewitt, "pirates were treated with great j
civility and friendship," and, " by bribery j
and corruption, they often found favor with
the provincial juries, and by this means es-l
caped the hands of justice." All of which
is declared bv the historian to be "eviden- j
cesof the licentious spirit which prevailed
in the colony." (Ibid, pp. 92, 115.) Gra-;
ham uses still stronger language, when be
i says, "the Governor, proprietors, deputies,
and the principal inhabitants, degraded
themselves to a level with the vilest of!
mankind, by abetting the crimes of pirates
and becoming receivers of their nefarious
acquisitions." (History of United States.
Vol. 3, p- 121) Such is the testimony with ,
regard to South Carolina. To call such a i
people "cavaliers" is an abuse of terms.
THE " CAVALIER" PRETENSION DISMISSED TO COX- J
TKJIIT.
1 hope that 1 have not taken too much
time in exposing a yainglorious pretension '
I which has helped to give the rebellion a !
I character of respectability it does not de
serve. I dismiss it to general contempt, as
one of the lies by which slavery, the great
est lie of all, has been recommended to weak
persons who could be deceived by names.
But you will not fail to remark how nat
urally slavery flourished among such a con
genial people. Convicts and wretches who
who had set at naught all rights of prop
erty and all decency, were the very people
to set up the revolting pretension of " pro
perty in man."
CONFLICT BETWEEN SLAVERY AND LIBERTY.
I come back to the postulate with which
I began, that the present war is simply a
conflict between slavery and liberty. This
i is a plain statement, which will defy con
! tradiction. To my tnind it is more satisfac
! Tory than that other statement, which is
often made, that it is a conflict between ar
\ istocracy and democracy. This in a certain
' sense is true ; but from its generality it is
less effective than a more precise and re
j stricted statement. It does not disclose
the whole truth ; for it does not exhibit the
unique and exceptional character of the
; pretension which we combat. For centu
ries there has been a conflict between ari
stocracy and democracy, or, in other words,
the few on one side have been perpetually
striving to rule and oppose the many. But
now, for the first time in the world's annals
a people professing civilization has com
menced war to uphold the intolerable pre
tension to compel labor without wages,and
that most disgusting incident, the whipping
of women and the selling of children.
Call these aristocrats or oligarchs if you
will ; but do dot forget that their aristoc-"
racy or oligarchy is the least respectable of
auj ever attempted, and is so entirely mod
ern that it is antedated by the Durham bull
Hubbuck, the short horn progenitor of the
oligarchy of cattle, and by the stallion
Godolphin, the Arabian progenitor of the
| oligarchy of horses, both of which may be
traced to the middle of the last century
I And do not forget that, if you would find a
prototype in brutality, you must turn your
; back upon civilised history, and repair to
! those distant islands which witnessed an
oligarehj r of cannibals, or go to barbarous
Africa, which has been kept in barbarism
by an oligarchy of men-stealers.
LIBERTY THROTTGHDCT THE WORLD.
Thus it stands. The conflict is directly
between slavery and liberty. But because
slavery aims at the life of the republic, tin
conflict involves our national existence; and
because our national death would be tin
despair of liberty everywhere, it involves
this great cause throughout the world. And
yet I would not for one moment lose sight
! of the special enemy; for our energies can
be properly directed only when we are able
to confront them. " Give me to see," said
the old Greek ; and this must be our expla
nation now.
COURTING.
Courting iz a luxury it iz saliad, it is ise
| water, it iz the pla spell ov the soul. The
| man who* lias never courted has lived in
vain ; he has been a blind man aiming
landskapes and water he has been
j a deff man in the land ov hand organs, and
by the side ov murmuring canuals. Court
ing iz like 2 little springs ov soft water that
i steal out from under # rock at the fut ova
mountain, aud run down the hill, side by
' side, singing and dansing and spattering
each other, cdying, frothing and kaskading,
now hiding under the bank, now full ov
; shadder, till bimebv tha jine and then tha
Igo slow. lam in favor of long courting ;
it gives the parties a chance to find out
I each uther's trump kards, it is real good ex
ercise, and iz just as innersent as two mer
ino lambs.
Courting iz like strawberries and cream
—wants to be did slow tu git the flavor. 1
have saw folks git acquainted, fall in lnv,
git married, settle down, git tew wurk, in
3 date. This iz just the wa
sum folks larn a trade—akounts fur the
grate number ov almiter mean mechaniks
we hav and the poor jobs that turnout.
Perhaps it iz best i sbud give sum good ad
vise tew young men who ar about 2 court
with final view 2 matrimony, as it was.
In the lurst place, young man, yu want
tew git jure system awl rite and then find
a young woman who iz willing 2 be cour
ted on the square.
The next thing is to find out how old she
iz, which you can dew bi asking her and
she will sa that she iz 19 years old, and
this you will find won't be far from out <>\
the wa.
The next best thing iz to begin moder
ate ; say onse every nite in the week for
the fust six months, increasing the dose as
the patient seems to require it.
It is a fust rate wa 2 court the girl's
mother a leetlc on the start, for there ix
one thing a woman never dispizes, and that
iz, a leetle good courting, if it iz done
strickly on the square. After the furst
year yu will begin 2 be well acquainted
and will begin 2 like the bizziness.
There is one thing I alwas advize, and
that is not to swop fotografls oftener than
onse in too days, 'less yu forgit haw the
gal looks.
Okashionly yu want 2 look sorry and
draw in yurc wind as thopu hav pain ; lliis
will set the gal to teasing yu 2 find out
what ails yu.
As a gineral thiug 1 wouldn't brag on
nther gals much when i was courtin'. It
mite look as tho yu knu 2 much.
If yu will court 3 years in this wa, awl
the time or. the square, if yu don't sa it iz
a leetle "the slickest time in yuro life, you
can get measured for a hat at mi expense,
and pa for it
Don't court for muuy nor buty, nor rela
shuus ; these things are jist about as the
kerosene ile refinin bizziness, liable to get
out ofrcpair and bust at eny minute. Courr
a gal for fun, for the lnv you bear her, for
the vartue and bizziness there iz in her :
court her for a wife and for a mother; court
her as yu would court a farm for tho strenth
ov the sile and the perfeooshun ov the title;
court her as tho she want a fule anil yu a
author ; court her in the kitchen, in the
parlor, over the wash tub, and at the plan
ner ; court this wa, young man, and if yu
don't git a real good wife, the fault won't
lie in the courting.
Young man. yu can rely upon Josh Bill
ings, and if yu kunt niak these ruls wurk,
just send for him, and lie will show yu how
the thing iz did—it shant cost yu a sent.
Josh Billings.
THE IRON PYRITES,—A man applied to Dr.
Jackson, the celebrated chemist of Boston,
with a box of specimens. "Can you tell
me what this is, sir;"" "Certainly 1 can,
sir. That is iron pyrites." "What sir ?" in
a voice of thunder, "Iron pyrites." "Iron
pyrites! And what's that ?" "That's what
it is," said the chemist, putting a lot on the
shovel over the hot coals, where it disap
peared. "Dross." "And what is iron pyrites
worth?" "Nothing!" "Nothing. Why there's
a woman in our town owns a whole hill of
that— and /'re ntarrifd /er."'
WE consider the old man's reply to his
son a to the meaning of the word humbug
nearer correct than Webster's. " Humbug,
my son, is when your mother says she loves
me, and dont sew the buttons on my shirt."
THE young lady who was struck with an
idea, has since recovered.
NUMBER 35.