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M.RM.
THE BEAUTY OF LIHEILTY.
. • ,
" In all things that have baituty, there is nothing
to man' more comely, than Liberty."—.Milton.
When the dance of fheshadows
At daybreak is done,
And the cheeks of the morning
Are red with the sun ;
When he sinks in his glory
At eve from the view,
And cull's up the planets
To blaze in the blue-7
____:There beauty..-:But-ylicre-i a-the-beauty to-ace
-More proud than the sight of a nation when free
When the beautiful bend _
Of the bow is above,- • •• .
. „
Like n circle of light
' On the bosom of love:
'When the moon in her mildneis
IA :
llon!ing on high, •
Like :i banner of silver • ,• •
Hung out in the sky--
'There is beauty. But earth has no, beMity to 'see
More proud than the frill 4 of a nation m hen free ?
In.the depth•of darkness,
Unvni•icd in hue, •
' When shadows arc veiling •
- . I 'lµ breast of the blue r
_...1y.1.!en the voice of the tempest
•
' At,midnight is still, • •
And the spirit of solitude
• • Sleeps on the bill--; •
There is beauty. But where is the beauty to see
LiktAlui broad.benming broiv ofa nation whcu•free?
lu the breath of the morning, .
Wheit nature awakes,
• . And calls up
-the chorus
To'chantin the brakes ;
In the vase of the echo •
thihounued hi woods,
Li the warbling of streams'
And the lbaniing of Hoods—
'Toro is beauty. But while is the beauty to see
Like the thrice hallowed sight of a nation When free?
,11" hen the striving of surges
.•
Is mad on the main, •
Like; the charge of a column
Of plumes on the plain ;
• When the tlininh , r ie
• up -
From its elotid-eradled
And the't'L•mpest is treading
•
The path of the deep- 7
There is beauty. But At' here is the be.tily to see
Like the sun brilliant brow of a nation when free ?
THE DYING BOY.
It must he sweet in childhood to give batik.
The spirit to its likes; ere the heart
Ilns grown tlimiliar with the paths of bin, •
And sown—to garner up its bitter fruits:
1 knew a boy, whose Mint feet had trod
Upon the blossoms of some seven springs, '
And when the eighth came round and called him out,
To revel in its-light, he turn'd away,
And sought his chamber to lie down and die :
'1 was night,—he sninmon'il his accustom'd friends;
kid in this wise bestow'd his last requests:--
"Mother, I'm dying now !
There is• deep staisatiun in my breast,
As if some heavy hand my bosom presed ;'
And MN• my brow •
I f4I the•cold sweat stand ;
My lips grow they and 6cmulous, and my breath
Comealimbly . up. Oh ! tell me, is this death ?
Mother! your• hand—
Ilere,ttly it on my•wrist,
And place the' other now beneath my head
And say, sweet mother, say, when I am dead,
SIMI' I be miss'd
• Never beside your knee,
Shall I kneel down again at night to pray,
Nor with the morning wake, and sing the lay
You taught Inci'
0 ! at the time of prayer,
When you looked round , and•see a vacant seat,
You . will not wait then for my coming leet—
You'll miss me there !"
" rather, I'm going home !
To the good home you spoke of: that blesed lam
Where it is one;.kright summer always, and
Storms' do not come;
I must be happy them,—
From pain and death you say I shall' be free,—
That sickness never enters there, a Ild'fifp .
Shall meet again !" . •
"Brother)4lie little spot
I used to call my s itiflen, where long hours
We've strayed to watch the buddiagthingsec flowers;
Forget it not !
Plant there some hat or pine;
Something that lived in winter, and will he
A verdant offering to my memory, .
And call it mine."
. • .
"Sister! my young rose tree, -
Tindall the spring bath been my pleasant care,
lust'puttingforth its leaves so green and Fair,
I give tolliee 1 ... ._ :
•
- ' find when its routs bloom,
.2 shall be gone away—my sliok life gone; ~.
-But will you. noibestow a single one
.
" Now, mother, sing , the tune •
You sang,last nightarn weaiy,tind must slesrt
Who was it cana my name . ? Noy, do not weep ;
You'll all come soon!"
Morning spread over earth her rosy wingic-
And that young' sufferer, cold and ivoi r y pale;
Lay on his Gollob 'asleep, • ;The gentle air,
_ca,nlc through the..opening freighted with
TAreiii - oury laliburs of the' early spring , •
He breathed it not ; 'thelaugh of witisersAby
tai r'd likd a diseord in some' mournful tune;:
But named not his , slumbers ..,!; H was •
„ . „s dead !.
-•• , - ,
' • SUB,i rtrr nwirc—its vlll rada
- , rsiipbbar
Lisfiithit4i3ttiait
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•.
I have often had Occasion to remark
the fortitude with. which worrMn. sustains
Ttlie most pierWhelthing reverse of 'fortune.'
I
'Those - disasters which• break down the
spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the-
.~.,._:
ilifii, see friTOWI Tei ill - Calf ifiee;ifeitiiii - o 1
the softer sex, and give such. intrepid ele
vation to their Character that at times it ap
proaches -to sublimity.' Nothing can be
more touching Than to behold a soft and
tender female who had been all .weakness
and dependence, and alive 'to every trial
of roughness,
,while reading the prosper
ousTathsof life, slid reply rising in men
tal force, to be the comforter of her hue
band under misfortune, and -abiding ; with
unshrinking-firinness—the- bitterest of ad=
•
versity. ' . '
I was once congratulating - a frlepd who
had' around him a blooming family,.knit
together in the Strongest affection.
can _wish yon no better foe,' said he, with
enthusiasm, thari to have . a .wife and
cliltlren.' If you are p' rosperous• they
are:
, there to share ,your prosperity: if
otherwise, they are there to comfort you.
And indeed, I have often observed that a
'married ,man falling into 'misfortunes, is,
more apt to retrieve hiS situation in the
world.tho a 'single one, partly because he
is more stimulated to exertion by the ne
cessities of the helpless and beloved beings
who depend upon himfor subsistence, hut
chiefly because his spirits are soothed and
relieved - by domestic_endearment:,4.
a little
domestic story vi of which-L was once a
witness. My intimate frieod Leslie, had
married a beautiful and accomplished'girl,
who had beenobrought tip in the midst of
fashionable- life. She had, it is true, no
fortune, but that of my friend was ample;
and he delighted in the anticipation of in
dulging her in every elegant pursuit, in ad
ministering to those 'delicate tastes and•
fancies that spread a kind of witchery a
.bout the sex. Iler life,' said he, 'shall
be like 'a fairy tale.' ,
The very difference in their characters
prdduced an harmonious combination.— ,
Ile was of t romantic and somewhat se
rious cast—she was all . lite and gladness.
I have often noticed' the intite rapture with
which lie would gaze upon her in compa
ny, of which her spriahtly powers made
her the lelight ; and how, in the midst of
applause, her eye ‘,vould still turn to him,
as if there she sought favor and . accept
ance.
It was the mishap of my friend, how
ever, to have • embaiked his fortune in a
large speculation, and he hail not been mar
ried many months, when by a succession of
sudden disasters, it was swept from hint,
•
and. he found himself reduced to almos t
penury. Fora time he kept his situation
, to himself, and went about with a haggard
countenance and a breaking heart. His
life was but a protracted agony, and what
rendered it inure insupportable was the
necessity of keeping up a smile in the
presence of his wife, for ,he could not
,bring himself to overwhelm her with the
news. She saw, however, with the quick .
eyes of affuction,• that all was not well
with him. `She marked his altered looks
and stifled ,sighs, awl was not to he de
ceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at
cheerfulness. She tasked all her spright
ly powers and tender blandishments to
win him back to happiness, 'but she only
Rove the arrow (lei , ier into his soul.
•At length he came to me one day and
related his whole situation in it tone. of
the deepest despair. W!ien I had heard
him throtigh I inquired. Does your wife
knot . * all this ? At the question he burst
into an agony of tears. -'For God's sake!'
cried he,- if you have any pity on me,
don't mention my wife ; it is the thought
of her that drives me.almost to Madness!'
' And' why not ?' said I. • She must .
know it •sooner or later. You cannot
keep it long`from her, and the intelligence
may break' upon , her in a more startling
manner thaw if impaTfid 'by 'yopreolf.. 7 -.
She will' soon perceive that something is
secretly preying upon yonithind, and tree ,
love will not brook reserve ; it feels under-
Valued and'outraged., when even the sor
rows of those it laves are concealed 'from .
•
it.' • • . •
0, ~my friend; but to think what a,
i;dow_l. am _to. give_alLher_futnre- prospeein
7 .--how I am to strike' her 'very stul• to
the 'eartinbytelling lier that, her husband
is a beggar—that - nbe is"to_ forego 'all the
elegance of life=all'the pleasures of.so
eiety—to'sink with me into iodigtfice and
obscurity.? 1- • -
grief Waif eliqUenee and r , letit
have its flow, :sorrow relieve itself by 1
wcnde. When lie Oevoltietn;
had ,eitbsid
ed,'and:-hehad relapsed into 11106,dellen#0,
VMS MEMOIIVIYAU.
From the London Literari , Musonm.
MARRIED LI EE. .
•
A TALE or. Lovr. AND lIAP,PINES, DEDICATED TO
THE WHOLE xrAcnELon TRIBE
The treasures of the deep are not so precious
As the concealed comforts of a man
1h0k.,11 up in woman's love. I scent the nir
Of blessings, when I enrne but near the.honse;
Whata delieious breath marriage sends forth—
Theviolet bed's not "sweeter.' •
pp.,a - wi7 - j immlam.w.C.-}3Ear+)3t=• - mLlclklu;:_iaioNscimimitse - imErw•Etviwl.. - ‘wzaqwA
him'to break 'his situation at once-.:to his
wile.. He shook his head mournfully, but
•
positively.
'But how are You to keep it from her?
It is necessary \ she should' know it,. that
you may take the' steps necessary to the
alteritiott of living—nay,'.. observing a
pang io phss across countenance,
, 'don't
lei that •afflict you, I am , 'sure . yon,have
never placed your happiness in outivayd
ShOw t ,--yov hav,e yet friends . whowill not
think the worse'. of you for , being.,•loss
.splendidly lodged; and .surely
.. it does not
'require a palace:to hippy with Mary.'•
tI could be happy with -her,' cried hei
convulsively, 'in a hovel !' could go
aot n wan ner into po erty an '-777
I could-4 could—= God bless her God
bless her!' cried he; bursting into 'a trans
port of •grief and I.endern,ess.. . . .
• 'And believe me, my 'friend,' said I,
stepping up and grasping him warmly by
the hand, 'believe me, she'ean be the same
with vou. Aye, more; it will be a source
of pride and triumph to her, it will call.
forth all the latent energies and fervent
sympathies of her nature, for she will re-
juice-to-prove.rthatshe - loves - youJorytini=
self. There in every woman's heart a
t. •
spark of heavenly fire Which lies.dormant
in the broad daylight of prosperity, but
which kindles up - and seems to blaze. in the
dark hour of adversity. 'No man_ knows
(what the wife oi'his bosom; no man knows,
what-a ministering angel she is, until he
has gone .with her through the fiery trials
of .this -
There was something in the earnestness
of my language that caught the excited im
agination of .Leslie. i knew the auditor
had to deal with ; and following up the im
pression I had made, I finished.up by per
suading him to doihome and. Unburden his
sad heart to his wife. , I must confess,not-
Withstanding all rhad said, I felt a - little
little solicitude for, the result.. I could not .
meet Leslie- the next, miming without fie
pida. tian . : Ile had Made the disclosure.
And how did she bear it?' .- .
Like en angel. It seemettrathertifbe
a relief to her mind,for she Threw her arms
around my neck and.asked me if that was
all that had made me unhappy. But, poor
girl, added he, 'she cannot realize the
change we must undergo. She ha'd no
hied of poverty but, in the abstract; she
has only read of it in poetry, where it is
allied to love. She feels as yet no priva
tion—she suffers no loss of accustomed
conveniences nor elegancies. When we
come particularly to experience its sordid
cares, its paltry wants, its . petty humilia
tions, then will be the trial.'
But,' said 1, 'now: that you have got
over the set;erest task, that Of breaking it
to her; the:sooner you let the world into the
secret the better. Have the courage to ap
pear poor, and you disarm poverty of its
sharpest sting.' On. this point I found
Leslie perfectl3 • prepared. lie had •no
false pride himself, and as to his wife, she
Was wily auxrous to'confortn to their alter
ed fortunes.
Sonic days' afterwards he ..,called upon
me in the evening.. lie had disposed'of
his dwelling house, and taken a small cot
tage in the: country, a few miles from town.
He had buSied himself all day in sending
out furniture. The new establishment re
quired but a few articles of the simplest
kind. • All the splendid furniture of his
late residence had been sold except his
wife's piano. That,he said, was ton close
ly associated with himself—it belonged to
the little story of their loves—for some of
the sweetest moments of their courtship
were those when he had leaned over that
instrutnent and listened to the melting tones
of her voice. Leould not inn smile attlis
i instalice of romantic gallantry in a Boating
husband.
He . was now going id the .cottage,
where his. wife had been all day superin
tending its arrangement. My feelings had
been strongly interested to the progress of
this family story, and as-it '4 , aS :One even
ing I offered to accompany him:
He was wearied with the fatigues of the
day, :ind as he walked out fell into a fit of
glomy musing:
Poor Mary!' at length broke with a heavy
sigh from his lips.
'And what tif her?' asked I, 'has shore-
pined at the shaUge?'
-- ‘lt - epine4lftlie. 7 has been nothing but sweet
ness and good humor! Indeed,,she seems
in better spirits than I'ever seen her; she
has 'been to me all love, , and tenderness,
and ,comfort.' :
;)liiimirable girl', .cxclaimed I. 'You
call yudrielf poor, my friend, you never
were richer—you . neve knew the bound
less treasures orexcellence you possessed
in that woman.
- '‘Oirlint 'my friend; - if Ilti's first,meeting
at the cottage were over, I Illink•I could he
comfortable. But this'is her first dar, of
real experience. •• She has (men introduced
to a humble dueeliingt• been employed all
day in: arranging. itir miserable ?equipments:
—43lte hatcfor the'fit;st ~ into knoWn The'
fatigues' of being oblige , to ife . tiejneetie
imployment- , :ehe has' for . thes:gret . time
loctedi arouniF:her'ore home, deetitete . 4
every thipg - alegant- - -, -- al`mostaf - every'tbing
eoitvenferi - eritt.. a • ..., ~ • , „ •
4 ilatiltSol - x o a 12: 1 110WItiaelitT 20 ISO'S,
exliauktinf and spiritless, brooding over a
prospect of future poverty.' `
There'was a probability in this-picture
that I could not gainsay,'so we walked on
in silence.
After turning ! fro' M.' the main road up.a
narrow lane so thick/5i shaded iii ' forest
trees as to , give it a complete air of seclu
tion, we . catno in ',sight . of the cottage.—
It was humble enough hips:appearance for
the y most pastoral. poeqand yet it lied a
pleasing rural look:. A Wild vine overrun
one end with a prOfusioriof foliag e; a few
trees threw/their branches, gracefully over
it,.and I observed_ several, pots of 'flowers
tastefully disposed about the door and on.
,the grass plat in front:A small wicked g a te
openbd upon a foot-path 'that wound through
some shrubbery at the' door. Just as we
approached weficard the Bound of musick.
Leslie-grasped my arm. \Ve "paused and
listened. It was- Mary's voice, singing in
a style of most touching simplicity, a
little air of which her husband was pecu
liarly fond. •
I Telt.Leslicts . hand tremble on my arm.
I He stepped fotrard to hear more distinctly.
Ilis steps made a noise on -- the graveled
I walk. A bright beautifulface glanced out
of the. window and vanished; .a- light foot .
f step was heard, and 'Mary came tripping,
! forth to meet us, she Was in a . .pretty rural
dress of 'white. A few wild . flowers were
twisted in her—line hair . . A fresh bloom
*as on her cheek: fler . whole countenance
beamed with smiles. I had never seen her
look so lovely.
•
` illy dear George,',..cried she. am so
glatr,you are come.T have been watch
ing and watching for you. and riming dpwii
the Me andiooling out for you.. I have
sat out a table under a tree behind 4.4 e Cot:
tape, Ad I have leen" gathering some of
the most delicious Strawberries, for I kno . tv
you are fond of them; and we have such
excellent -crearn--,,and every thing_ is so
sweet and still there—Oh!' said she, put
ting her arm within, his, and looking up
brightly in his-face r 'Ohl we shall be so
happy!' ,
Poor Leslie was overcome. - lie caught.
her in bosom—hi folded his arms
around her; he kissed her again and again;
he could not speak; but the tears gushed
into his eyes. Ile has often assured me that
though the world has since gone prosper
ously with him, • and hi-, life has indeed
been aliappione,°iyetinever has he experf
eneed a Moment of such unutterable felicity.
From Miss Leslie's Magazine.
TIRE OW'S LAST TRIAL.
A TRUE STORY.
"Ile was the only son of his mother, and she
was a widow."
'" And to-morrow you are to be taken
into the firm . as a partner. , " :This was ut
tered by an aged female, Who was sitting
with one of her withered hands clasped in
that of her son, a young man of two-and
twenty,'who sat looking in her face, with
.eyes beaming with affectionate interest:—.:
"'Phis fully repays me, my beloved son
for all I have suffered."
For a Moment the son's features appear
ed clouded with sorrow ; lie thought what
that suffering had been; of the years long
past, when the mother now sitting beside
him, so beloved, had submitted to toil and
privation, enduring all this fOr his sake;
his eyes glistened with tears, till brushing
them away hastily, a smile .broke "over his
countenance.
: "T;ne, mother," he said, " but let these
recollections be forgotten now. The mem
ory of the past we will bury in oblivion,
and think only. of the
, days that. are to
come."
,".But you will not allow present pros
perity to harden your heart, William ;
you will not let your good forturie make
you high-Minded, and forget . Hi m, who
has been a friend in the hour of trouble ?"
• " No, mother, I will not forget that I
am the child of cod—yet should tempts
tiowassail me, I have only to think of your
precepts and example, and they would de
ter nie from doing wrong. But think,
mother," ho continued, a. bright gleam
lighting up every feattire, " how happy
shall he, iii being enabled to place you in
the sphere - o'We to which :your virtues
entitle you. If you knew how oftenusy
fancy has4ictured this hour, 'how , often 1
1 have dwelt upon the idea of one' day bie
ing able to place you in a home 'equal . to
your inerit,.you' would not, wonder, c ,_thst
nOw,Wheit I'seernk wishes on theiniepf
accomplishment; it should thus subdue
MINI
" Nor. do I, nor do, sea," the moth
er said with tearful eyei, "but pi u thi n k
more favorably of yeti! 'old .fflothei than
she deserves. V doubt not . Many will
think and say the ',old.woman has now
more'thanshe merits L and really, though.
I proud of your adtancement; I should
riot murmur, at never having a more, com
fortable: home than - the , present one
_you
I ' haVe prolvidekt Mei"
The night vyas'pitchy dark, 'rot • star
being whilethe wind: blowing in
fitful,gusts. portended a Ideim'Cif 'OO4l
=
the .young,man, rising and going . towards
The door to look out. "The river•' is al
ready swollen, and if the rain falls as : it
did the other "evening, I fear much dam
age will ensue. You heard of the poor
fellow drowned "in the canal last eien
ing.?" . •
"Yes," the mother replied.. "I Rope
'he had friends to care for "I'is
dreadful death to die," she added musing
ly,
"'They, say not," sainVitliam, "many
Who have' encountered it,.essert the be
ing brought to`, as the most painful. panto
endure." •
- •
tnny be so,". the m,other ansivered ;
"but I . ferVently trust-'no one dear to me,
map. ever subtnitted to the experitnent."
-A-vivid flash of, lightping; followed,.by
the low rumbling thunder, caused Willia:n
'now to 'retire ; and observing again that
the river.wotth be very high, he closed the,
door. •
It was now the usual hour for Gamily
worship.. The mother had seated. herself
in a corner of the fire-place, with her felt
tures_settled into a look: of devotion, while.
the . son - with a corresponsding gravity-,
walked toward- the stand on which the fami
ly bible was placed,....and opening- the sae - red
volume, began reading a charter.. —Reli
gion with them, was not the cold express i
sion of the' lip alone.. It. waSthe incense
of the he'art. It was a beautiful sight, that
aged mother and her Drily son, bending
their knees, and lifting op their 'voices . to
the MoSt Iligh. -Perhaps the events ofthe
day bad given a deeper tone 'of tenderness
to William's voice and feelings; certain it
was - he had never prayed 'lucre fervently
than on that evening; and when they sera.*
rated frt-the----night r the—poor- T old— woman'
ocketlA-fiirward to the bright vista of the
future, with full -confidence of its meeting
lier ihost sanguine anticipations,
The [pother of William had beebleft
widow, while he was in his second year.
By dint of Inird labor, she had managed to
keep her boy - at school,r.nntilite_arrivedt at
his fifteenth year, when She obtained a sit
uation fo - rigin with a merchant, residing at
the flourishing town, of Rochester, in the
state of New York. Wil good : con
duct and steady application to business,
won theiavorable opinion of 'his employ- .
er. The merchant was a man of great be
nevolence; he could appreciate merit in
whatever station it was to be met; and
When he saw the lad supporting an aged
mother out of, his earnings—never ming
ling with the low and vicious, and practis
ing a fidelity to business unusual in one so
young, it was impossible to avoid feeling
an involuntary respect for 'his character.—
Wtlliam was aware of the merchant's kinir
nest: ; he ''ltnew that his salary exceeded
that given to the other boys ; still he never
presumed on the merchant's disinterested
ness, but was alike respectful to his ent
.ployer, and their customers,. On the day
in' which he was introduced to the reader's
notice, he had been offered a share in the
lucratiie bUsiness. Never had his bright
est vision pictured such a result ; bu t t even
then, when it would 'have been naturano
suppose hint greatly elated by his good
fortune, he thought only of his mother;
and while his expressions of gratitude were
poured in eloquent language into the'ear of
his benefactor, there was a 'mingling 'of
thanks that she would be the reaper of his
unexampled kindness. • •
To-morrow who may boast of to-mor
row
The, widow and her son parted from each
other with happiness bright in the perspec
tive. • The storm of the preceded evening ,
had been succeellcd by a-morning of un
.usual mildness for the sesaomfor it was the
middle of January, and telling his mother
he would return to dinner, but that she
should see- him early ini the evening, Will :
liam bade her farewell.
It was at the close of the day, that a tra
veller went forth" to view ,the: picturesque
and beautiful falls of. the Genessee. Ile
proceeded Mowry, gazing, upon, the sur
rounding country, with the eye of a con
noiseur ; and had 'gained the point at which
the fall could be seen to the greatest advan
tage, when his attention bbcarno engrossed
by an object of exceeding interest. ' Near
to the aqueduct was a young. man employ
ed in endeavoring to'collect some drift
wood:: Ile had stretched• forth his arm to
seize a , fioating log, when, the '
pla . ce being
slippery, he loit his balance, and fell 'into'
_the _Water._- At-first, the stranger thottlit
him justly punishedlef his temerity; and
felt inclined to smile af'what he deemed his
fool-hardiness; but soon other feelings-pre
dominated.. The river was,verrhigh and
the current,, running Strong,- soon brought
the, rash youilf towards .
' -
w ho, 01'11_•mr may,_paini_the_anguittli
ed feelings of that ypless being; lino
himself to be deemed to inevitable d
don On, on the - ..rapids drove ire.--
, There was not a ray of hope to el eer his,
drooping bean; but as the tnome tof imp
Tending fate dreW - near;dep don, gave
pirin strength to grapple, with 4 death, grasp;
on the iny' top Of, thefalls We
mprightupott•hisfeilomyevihg one Wllll ,
'dreadful, - shriettni' Over. and
shut out thifdreadful sight., He knew that
the hapless being had seen him; that' the
last agonizing appeal the unfortunate youth
had made for aid was to him, and . sick 'at
heart he returned to the hotel.
When ; the Melancholy, fact beCame
spread through the town, it Was said to be
a poor youth who had been in the habit of
nightly 'carrying home a supply of drift_
wood to his mother: All .spoke highly of
him; of his devotion to her, and of his
subsequent good:, condwtt. It was men
.tioned . that ',his pyoSpects had lniproved,
and many.conjecturesl . that the force °Tia) ;
it more than - actual • neoesSity..had Occa
sioned. the fatal catastrophe.. Reader, th'e
ptior drowned-youth Was the widoW'S only
Son ! • •
Not many clays . after, a coffin was seen
slowly emerging . from the widow's now
desolate mansion. The body of the young
man had been found many miles below the
spot at- which he perished. Not a trace
of his once pleasant counte'irance was pre:
c(iptible, but his clothes were identified by
many. There was one rho would have
recognised him under any circuinstances—
ihie heart broken mother.. AN'lleu all
shrunk and turned away. with horror from
vieWing'thesight of his mutulated limbs,
she eking to them and wept mer_the bedy .
in the most riiter agony. The earthclo-s
-ed -over his.-loved • remainS. It was the
WIDOW ' S LAST TRIAL. .
Soon she N; : as sleeping Inside,
=
rl?' , D lb a 'B' .11 0 Z , ... Lb' ,
RELIEF TO THE TES."'
• Llirl'Eß. 1E4.. . •
From the non. Wm. COST 301INSON to Col. 61/AS
\Jallaud
Hall' of Itepresp_ntatives,
WASHINGTON, Ike, 4.5, 181.2
DEAII Ste:—lll my last letter I present
ed a-brief historical account ofthe atisump
tion lami - of 1700, and the treaty, Or 1902,
- which assumed individual.dehts. I could
multiply the -cases of , the latter to;,a vCq.3 . •
great length ; .hut it would-he foreign from
the more limited scope which I intend these
letters to embrace My : purpose was
simply to shr*re - imnstiiutional power as
exercised injavor of assumption, and the
force of a -- few precedents to. illustrate the
wisdom and policy of exercising the power
when the general good required it. But.
whatever were the objections made to the
law 01 assumption in i;9l,.they - cannot
apply to the.plan which I propose, as there
is no strict analogy in the two cases. •
The debt assumed far Massachusetts
was $4,000,000; the debt assumed"-for
Penn Sylvania was but, $2,000,000; yet
both States under the Constitution, had
eight representatives in Congress. The
debt assumed for South Carolina was $4,-
000,000 : that of North Carolina was' but
s2,ooo,ooo—each of these States had five
representatives: The debt' assumed for
New York was $1,C00,000, while that of
Maryland was $500,000, and each State
was represented with six members of the
Douse.
.The debt of Connecticut tliat was
assumed amounted`to.sl,696,ooo, and that
of Rhode Island was $200,000. The debt .
assumed for Delaware was $206,000; and
that of New Hampshire . was 6300,000.
The debt assumed for Georgia $300;000.
The inequality .. of The' debts, and' the
character of the debts, produced the great
est hostility to the measure.; yet it was a
dopted. I obviate all the difficulty and
hostility Which originated from these causes,
by presenting a measure at once equitable
and just to - all the States'; which at 'once ,
negatives the "argumentthat one State de;
sires another to4);`ty its debts:
But befor/I present more specifically
than I lia.vt3 done, the system which I pro
' posei-I4vill - briefly contemplate the-recces
sits' of the measure. :Sy hat is the cOntli- .
Ilion of things now ? The States have
in
volved themselves in enormous debts. It
were curious, but not necessary, now, for
my purpose, to inquire whether this was
Induced by the policy of the General Gov
ernment, or by tlie folly or wisdom of the
State . Legislatures.
,They are in debt—
honestly in debt, and those debts must be
paid. The moral-seUse of the people will
require it ;. every sentiment of honor and
'duty demands it. The, :moral sense and
the moral power of the civil' d world will
demand the, payment, as it shoo kit) the
final dollar. We are atilt to pay them.—
With wise legislation we are able to pay
'The amount; thrice over, and the nation to
:kw) slt id .iorously in the.process,.
But now the Governors of Briny °Nile
indehted Suites recommend.nO system of
vigoreus measures to pay even the interest,
much less topay the principal. :Pim:State
Legislatures are equally reluctant to adopt
any efficient
_pleitS4,_.and_in_lmany_of-tho
States"ilic larYs for collecting direct taxes
,are not enforced, -becatise it is said that al:
ilaugh . lthepeople have :prokrty,they hare
,- . •
no inoney, and the taxes are levied in trio
ney;Ayllich. it is impossible to gather from
the,people insufficient amounts , to meet the
exactions and noce,s.'sitiesy:if.the...tattet,"...
ing
trim-
.
To attempt:to collect taxes by force would
,
le a. qtnistionabie experiment., The'delilo
Are not
. denie'd- but to one - 'StOte but, fe
.PtiintiOn; an4',,tinttit; ';exiecti;enii One
MIMI:I23M =WI%
tYOontinually declines in Value: Can - the
Stiltes:and 'the people exist happily under,
this accumulating dishonor? Can .the
States that are not itnlebted, escape from:
the*moral L taint 1. As the leprosy that first
"itaches to the ridlit arm
~ is quickly
ble in' the left, soon communicates to the,
lother limbs, and finally diseases the Whole
corporeal system,' so will the discredit of
,one State num+, in a brief period to all,
until the whole confedera'te system' suffers,:
in an equal. degree, : What 'reason
. and
pliilosophy•teacii;experience has already.
denionstrated. :The Croverruncni has felt
the evil influence ' . of the loes,of credit or
the Slates in itsjoss of credit ; and is as
impotent to.borrow money.as Maryland or
N:o one doubts the resou'rce's of the Gd:
vertiment, but the doubt.is.whether its pub
lid men, itS legislators; have the tyill and
fortitude to meet the exigencies of the cri
sis with systems of legislation indispensa
ble to de.velc,pe - and make available those .
latent•and abundant resources.
Sod how far each State may become im-•
',heated; and the. Governm,ent itself res .- -
pemsiblc for the - delinquencies of life Slates,
I- will not discuss at present. • I will only
gnOte one sentence from Chief Justice JAY.
-“While all the -States are bound_ to pro
tect each, and the citizens of 'eaelt, it was
highly proper _ altd _ reasonable_that they.
shoulSbe 'in a capacity net only to cause
justice to' be done to each,"dnd the citizens
of -each, but also.to - causejustice to bedone .
b?, cacti:74lnd the- citizens of each.”
Neglect:to pay the interest does-not get
rid of,but increases the debt. WaiVing a
consideration of tile laws of Nations, and
our own example-towards France, Naples;
anti Other Powers, suppose we were to at
tempt
_to cancel ,the account by 'collision
with the powers of Europe. War would
not pay, but would increase -the dobt s 'if
even. we -Were victors on thelield of battle.
But the rule - of law, as the rule of duty'is,
pay your adversary' before you fight - him,
and when nations and persons do justice to
each other, tilt= is no necessity for con
diet.
Then the' debts of the' States must be
paid at lest, "and I am sure will be paid.—
Not by the States as thing now are, for
the reasons I have given. The Govern
molt must become the agent for the States,
and the longer it delays, the more wild*
become embarrassed. How are' they to
Lie paid with justice to all the States with.'
out oppr2ssion to any ?. That is the ques
tion to be asked by the people, and to be'
answered audibly by their Legislators. A
remedy is not to be extended to the people'
by those who vote against every plan and
propose none—a negative course will not
remove a positive, an activeandinereasing
evil. Timid legislators, in . times . of civil -t
difficulty, are about as useful to the peo- ,
pie as are timid Generals in time of war.
But the question must be answered by
every legislator . --how are the debts of the
States to be paid ? Now, the pressure of
the dcbts'rests too , oppressively to be bortie'
upon one half of the States. Two oh:
jects are to be obtained to effect the cement.: ,
plated result. First, the 'pressure is to be.
lightened ; and secondly, when, lightened,
it is to be •so diffused, and to be attended -
with benefits to be felt, if felt at all, in a
more equal degree Over a wider surfede;
Ilow is the first to be effected with
° Oa.'
ties ? By changing the 'character of the
debt, and by changing the character of . the'
security. This is to be attained by aug
menting the security from State to Nation. ,
al which will, in the process diminish. the'
interest, and thereby lessen the preattre.••
Suppose the State debts for the argument,
to =omit to S 200,000,000; and that they
average six per cent, interesl---by issuing_
two hundred million's of governmerit bonds
at four per cent and exchanging them with
the holders of State bonds which can rea-
dily be done, the pressure lessens from ,
twelve million. to eight. If they are, ex
changed for three per cent stock, the press
sure is leisoned one half in interest. No
pxpt. ime nt in chemistry emfbe relied upon,
More- safely for ,succeas. • No principleill
philoophy is more certaiti': than
this result. , .
. ,
• simple process will effect th e first
object in the process of relief to ths States,:
upon strict principles of , justice. NOißyi:•,
al security is a lust consideration for'din•k':: .
itiution of interest. The. next branch oi'
'the ttstion is ,to be answered—how- is ,
the interest thus diminished, and thoG:ov
ernnicnt h its; to - be paid ib on Coppres., - ;
slop to at the Stateel 'The States
now hidebted will receive. their fair share
of the bonds when issued, 'their semi- ift-''''
*mat payment of interest:on the esmei:and`.4
the payment of their -portion Of the Ola f ,
- CilielTif — thirdebt Whin - the G0er01414,, , -:,
beg. MS . to liq uidate
whilst the ilebt becomes „dispitibttliotiy --
over the entire nation. thkkatrisitt'ilr
terra and princinal . is equggy'iliffikecto--'
The pecOntary
and uniform; am) by : , the, proCiesti,,,Willtell,-
the . ' States et the
_ea* timecltfA'AOr''
Credit re.established,:!iihit
'prosy city. re'
'stored ,in. ever puratot,fiL)p
Such is the,eohitiOn'of a Tirahhmi
tnight•seera; 'difficult . in •reekeitti4:liiipitietta,
through mcidiuni.:,Of'ratioitat;•-feoo64'
=I