The 'hero' of the work is a merchant, who, like many others after incurring bankruptcy, takes to Wall Street—to selling notes as an under-broker for a living. In describing his trials, the author has, with consummate skill and extraordinary knowledge of both causes and effects, pointed out the peculiarities, institutions, and good or bad workings of the American mercantile system, in such a manner as to have attracted from the soundest authority warm praise of his work, as embodying practical knowledge of a kind seldom found in 'novels.' From 'broking' to speculating—from that again to the old course—alternately buoyed up or cast down, through trials and troubles, the bankrupt, at last, in his darkest hour, lands on that 'luck' which in America comes sooner or later to every one. It is worth remarking that in all his characters, as in his scenes, the author is careful to maintain the balance of truth. He shows us that among the sharks and harpies of Wall Street there are phases of honor and generosity—that the arrogance or coldness of a bank-officer may have a rational foundation—that feelings as intense are awakened in common business pursuits as in the most dramatic and erratic lives. In this just treatment of character,—this avoiding of the old saint and angel system of depicting men,—KIMBALL is truly pre-eminent, and under it even the casual SOL DOWNER strikes us with an individuality and a force not inferior to that of the hero himself.

We can not take leave of this truly remarkable book without referring to the under-current of kindly, humane feelings with which it abounds. There is a delicate, tremulous sympathy for the sufferings and joys which he depicts, which reflects the highest credit on the author. There are, in this book, unaffected touches of pathos, founded on the most natural events in the world, which have never been surpassed by any novelist.

We are glad that novelists are leaving romance and going to real life. One breaking into the harsh industry of the factory and market, another taking down the joys and sorrows of the humble weaver, another describing, as in this work, the strange hurrying life of the 'outside broker' to the sharpest-cut detail,—all giving us truth and observation in the place of vague imagination;—such are the best results of late literature; and prominent among these the future historian will place the Under-currents of Wall Street.

MARGARET HOWTH. A Story of To-Day. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1862.

We know of no other truly American novel into which so many elements have been forced by the strength of genius into harmony, as in Margaret Howth. One may believe, in reading it, that the author, wearied of the old cry that the literature of our country is only a continuation of that of Europe, had resolved to prove, by vigorous effort, that it is possible to set forth, not merely the incidents of our industrial life in many grades, in its purely idiomatic force, but to make the world realize that in it vibrate and struggle outward those aspirations, germs of culture and reforms which we seldom reflect on as forming a part of the inner-being of our very practical fellow-citizens. The work has two characteristics,—it breaks, with a strong intellect and fine descriptive power, into a new field, right into the rough of real life, bringing out fresher and more varied forms than had been done before, and in doing this makes us understand, with strange ability, how the thinkers among our people think. We all know how it flows in to them, from lecture and book, from the Tribune and school—but few, especially in the Atlantic cities, know what becomes of culture among men and women who 'work and weave in endless motion' in the counting-house, or factory, or through daily drudgery and the reverses from wealth to poverty. Others have treated a single **o [transcriber's note: illegible word] of life, dramatically and by events, as well as Miss HARDING, but no one American has dared such intricacies of thought and character in individuals—has raised them to such a height, and developed them with such a powerful will, without falling into conventionalism or improbability. Unlike most novels, its 'plot,' though excellent, is its least attraction—we can imagine that the superb pride which gleams out in so many rifts has induced the author to voluntarily avoid display of that ingeniously spinning romantic talent in which novelists excel precisely in proportion to their lack of all nobler gifts. It is a certain rule, as to literary snobs, that in proportion as the food which they give diminishes in excellence, does the plate on which it is served increase in value. But let none imagine that Margaret Howth lacks interest—it is replete with burning, vivid, thrilling interest—it has the attraction which fascinates all readers, based in a depth of knowledge so extraordinary that it can be truly appreciated by but few. The immense popularity which it has acquired and the general praise awarded it by the press, proves that it has gone right to the hearts of the people—whence it came.

Those who accuse Margaret Howth of harshness and a lack of winsomeness, have neither understood the people whom it describes nor the degree of stern strength requisite to wrest from life and nature fresh truth. The pioneers of every great natural school (and every indication shows that one is now dawning) have quite other than lute-sounding tasks in hand, however they may hunger and thirst for beauty, love, and rose-gardens. Under the current of this book runs the keenest, painfulest craving to give freely to life these very elements—its intensest inner-spirit is of love and beauty; it throbs and burns with a sympathy for suffering humanity which is at once fierce and tearful. As regards the minor artistic defects of Margaret Howth, they are, if we regard it entirely, the shadows inseparable from its substance, felt by those who remain in them, but in no wise detracting from the beauty of the edifice when we regard it from the proper point of view.

ETHICAL AND PHYSIOLOGICAL INQUIRIES, CHIEFLY RELATIVE TO SUBJECTS OF POPULAR INTEREST. By A.H. Dana. New York: Charles Scribner, 124 Grand Street; Boston: Crosby & Nichols. 1862.

A delightful collection of essays of the most valuable character, in which the agreeable is throughout fully qualified with the useful. The titles of several of these chapters are of themselves attractive: Races of Men, Compensations of Life, Authorship, Influence of Great Men, Lawyers, Hereditary Character, Sensuality, Health, Narcotic Stimulants, Theology, and The Supernatural,—all of them treated with a clearness and comprehensiveness which can not fail to earn for the work extensive popularity.

BAYARD TAYLOR'S WORKS, VOL. III. Caxton Edition. At Home and Abroad. Second Series. New York: G.P. Putnam.

The third volume of this exquisitely, printed and fully-illustrated series of the works of BAYARD TAYLOR is, in all respects, fully equal to its predecessors, both as regards typographic and literary merit.

THOMAS HOOD'S WORKS, VOL. III. 'Aldine Edition.' Edited by Epes Sargent. New York: G.P. Putnam.

The materials of the present volume, as we are informed by the editor, have been chiefly drawn from the collections of humorous pieces published by THOMAS HOOD under the title of Hood's Own, Whimsicalities, and Whims and Oddities. In connection with the first volume of this series it completes the reprint of all of HOOD'S poems. The present volume is, like its predecessors, most exquisitely printed and bound. It contains a grotesque title-page from the pencil of HOPPIN, with a fine steel engraving of the author.

A SOUTH CAROLINA PROTEST AGAINST SLAVERY. New York: G.P. Putnam. 1861.

A very interesting letter from HENRY LAURENS, second President of the Continental Congress, to his son, Col. JOHN LAURENS, dated Charleston, S.C., Aug. 14, 1776, now first published from the original letter. It contains a vehement plea for Emancipation, and speaks with bitter contempt of England for encouraging the slave-trade in America.

THE REBELLION; ITS LATENT CAUSES AND TRUE SIGNIFICANCE. In Letters to a Friend abroad. By Henry T. Tuckerman. New York: Jas. G. Gregory. 1861.

An excellent work, discussing the social peculiarities of the South with great ability.

* * * * *

BOOKS RECEIVED

PAMPHLETS ON THE WAR.

Among the many publications on the War which have from time to time found their way to our table, are the following pamphlets:—

RELATION OF THE AMERICAN BOARD OF COMMISSIONERS FOR FOREIGN MISSIONS TO SLAVERY. By Charles K. Whipple. Boston: R.F. Wallcut. 1861.

WITHIN FORT SUMTER. By one of the Company. New York: N. Tibbals & Co. 1861.

A LECTURE ON THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES. By Noble Butler. Louisville, Ky.: John P. Maton. 1862.

THE WAR. Correspondence between the Young Men's Christian Association of Richmond, Va., and the City of New York. New York: G.P. Putnam. 1861.

SPEECH OF GEN. HIRAM WALBRIDGE, of New York, at Tammany Hall, Aug. 21, 1856, on the Reorganization of our Navy. New York. 1862.

THE REBELLION: OUR RELATIONS AND DUTIES. Speech of Hon. Edward McPherson, of Pennsylvania, delivered in the House of Representatives, Feb. 14, 1862. Washington. 1862.

ARE THE SOUTHERN PRIVATEERS PIRATES? Letter to the Hon. Ira Harris, United States Senator. By Charles P. Daly, LL.D., First Judge of the Court of Common Pleas of the City of New York. New York: Jas. B. Kirker, 599 Broadway. 1862.

SPECIAL MESSAGE DELIVERED TO THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE STATE OF IOWA. By Governor S.J. Kirkwood. Des Moines, Iowa: F.W. Palmer. 1862.

PICTURES OF SOUTHERN LIFE—SOCIAL, POLITICAL AND MILITARY. Written for The London Times, by William Howard Russell, LL.D., Special Correspondent. New York: Jas. G. Gregory. 1861.

AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT MT. KISCO, Westchester Co., New York, July 4, 1861. By John Jay, Esq. New York: Jas. G. Gregory. 1861.

THE REJECTED STONE; or, INSURRECTION vs. RESURRECTION IN AMERICA. By a Native of Virginia. Boston: Walker, Wise & Co. 1861.

THE INDISSOLUBLE NATURE OF THE AMERICAN UNION, considered in connection with the assumed Rights of Secession. A Letter to Hon. Peter Cooper, of New York. By Nahum Capen. Boston: A. Williams & Co. New York: Ross & Tousey. 1862.

THE UNION. An Address, by the Hon. Daniel S. Dickinson, delivered before the Literary Societies of Amherst College, July 10, 1861. New York: Jas. G. Gregory. 1861.

ALLEGHANIA. The Strength of the Union and the Weakness of Slavery in the High Lands of the South. By JAMES W. TAYLOR. Saint Paul: James Davenport. 1862.

A pamphlet deserving close study and general circulation.

AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BY HON. GEORGE S. BOUTWELL, in Tremont Temple, Boston, Dec. 16, 1861.

This address has enjoyed great popularity, and will deservedly take place among the most characteristic and valuable pamphlets of the war.

AMERICA, THE LAND OF EMANUEL; or, CONSTITUTIONAL LIBERTY A REFUGE FOR THE GATHERING TO SHILOH. By Lorenzo D. Grosvenor, of Shaker Community, South Groton, Mass. A. Williams & Co., 100 Washington St., Boston. 1861.

SPEECH DELIVERED BY HON. J.M. ASHLEY, OF OHIO, ON THE REBELLION, ITS CAUSES AND CONSEQUENCES, at the College Hall, in the City of Toledo, Nov. 26, 1861, Towers & Co., Washington, D.C. 1861.

An excellent pamphlet, which has been extensively and favorably noticed by the press, and been several times reprinted.

THE AMERICAN CRISIS, its Cause, Significance and Solution. By Americus. Chicago, Ill.: John R. Walsh. 1861.

A vigorous and able document.

WAR AND EMANCIPATION. A Thanksgiving Sermon preached in the Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, N.Y., on Thursday, Nov. 21, 1861. By Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Philadelphia: W. Peterson & Brothers. 1861.

Concise, spirited, and full of sound ideas.

* * * * *

EDITOR'S TABLE.

On the ninth of March President LINCOLN made the first announcement of an official endorsement of the great principle of gradual Emancipation, by transmitting to Congress a message recommending that the United States ought to cooeperate with any State which may adopt a gradual emancipation of slavery, by giving to such State pecuniary aid, to be used at its discretion, to compensate for the inconvenience, public and private, which may be produced by any such change of system.

Any member of Congress, with the census tables and the treasury notes before him, can readily see for himself how very soon the current expenditures of this war would purchase, at a fair valuation, all the slaves in any named State. Such a position on the part of the General Government sets up no claim of a right by federal authority to interfere with slavery within State limits, referring, as it does, the absolute control of the subject, in each case, to the State and its people immediately interested.

It is almost needless to point out to the reader that the views, both direct and implied, which are urged in this message, are in every respect identical with those to advance which the CONTINENTAL was founded, and for which it has strenuously labored from the beginning. There is nothing in them of the 'Abolitionism' which advocates 'immediate and unconditional' freeing of the blacks; while, on the other hand, the only persons who can object to them are those who hold that slavery is a good thing in itself, never to be disturbed. It is, in short, all that the rational friends of progress can at present desire—an official recognition of the great truth that slavery ought to be abolished, but in such a manner as to cause the least possible trouble.

It is amusing to observe the bewilderment of the pro-slavery Northern Democratic press, which has so earnestly claimed the Executive as 'conservative,' and on which this message has fallen like a thunder-clap. They have, of course, at once cried out that, should it receive the sanction of Congress, it would still amount to nothing, because no legislature of a slave State will accept it; an argument as ridiculous as it is trivial. That the South would, for the present, treat the proposal with scorn, is likely enough. But the edge of the wedge has been introduced, and emancipation has been at least officially recognized as desirable. While such a possible means of securing property exists, there will always be a strong party forming in the South, whether they attain to a majority or not, and this party will be the germ of disaster to the secessionists. There are men enough, even in South Carolina, who would gladly be paid for their slaves, and these men, while maintaining secession views in full bluster, would readily enough find some indirect means of realizing money on their chattels. It may work gradually—but it will work. As disaster and poverty increase in the South, there will increase with them the number of those who will see no insult or injury in the proposition to buy from them property which is becoming, with every year, more and more uncertain in its tenure.

Let it be remembered that this message was based on the most positive knowledge held by the Executive of the desires of the Union men in the South, and of their strength. The reader who will reflect for a moment can not fail to perceive that, unless it had such a foundation, the views advanced in it would have been reckless and inexplicable indeed. It was precisely on this basis, and in this manner, that the CONTINENTAL, in previous numbers, and before it the New York KNICKERBOCKER Magazine, urged the revival of the old WEBSTER theory of gradual remunerated emancipation, declaring that the strength of the Union party in the South was such as to warrant the experiment.[O] We have also insisted, in our every issue, that, while emancipation should be borne constantly in view and provided for as something which must eventually be realized for the sake of the advancing interests of WHITE labor and its expansion, everything should be effected as gradually as possible, so as to neither interfere with the plans of the war now waging, nor to stir up needless political strife. We simply asked for some firmly-based official recognition of the rottenness of the 'slavery plank in the Southern platform,' and trusted that the utmost caution and deliberation would be observed in eventually forwarding emancipation. We were literally alone, as a publication, in these views, and were misrepresented both by the enemies who were behind us and the zealous friends who were before us. We have never cried for that 'unconditional and immediate emancipation of slavery' with which the Liberator, with the kindest intentions, but most erroneously, credits us. We should be glad enough to see it, were it possible; but, knowing that the immediate-action theory has been delaying the cause for thirty years, we have invariably suggested the firm but gradual method. That method has at last been formally advanced by the President, in a manner which can reasonably give offense to no one. The beginning has been made: it is for the country to decide whether it—the most important suggestion of the age—shall be realized.

* * * * *

The news of the capture of Fort Donelson had barely reached us, the roar of the guns celebrating our rapid successes had not died away, ere that fragment of the Northern ultra pro-slavery party which had done so much towards deluding the South into secession, impudently raised its head and began most inopportunely and impertinently to talk of amnesty and the rights of the South. There are things which, under certain limitations, may be right in themselves, but which, when urged at the wrong time, become wrongs and insults; and these premature cries to restore the enemy to his old social and political standing are of that nature. They are insufferable, and would be ridiculous, were it not that in the present critical aspect of our politics they may become dangerous. Since this war began, we have heard much of the want of true loyalty in the ultra abolitionists, who would make the object of the struggle simply emancipation, without regard to consequences; and we have not been sparing in our own condemnations of such a limited and narrow view,—holding, as we do, that emancipation, if adopted, should be for the sake of the white man and the Union, and not of the negro. But 'Abolition' of the most one-sided and suicidal description is less insulting to those who are lavishing blood and treasure on the great cause of freedom, than is the conduct, at this time, of those men who are now, through their traitorous organs, urging the cry that the hour is at hand when we must place slavery firmly on a constitutional basis; this being, as they assert, the only means whereby the Union can ever be harmoniously restored.

In view of the facts, it is preposterous to admit that this assumption is even plausible. He must be ignorant indeed of our political history during the past twenty years, or strangely blind to its results, who has not learned that a belief that the North is ever anxious to concede for the sake of its 'interests' has been the great stimulus to the arrogance of the South. While the principles of the abolitionists have been the shallow pretence, the craven cowardice of such men as BUCHANAN and CUSHING has been the real incitement to the South to pour insult and wrong on the North. Concession has been our bane. It was paltering and concession that palsied the strong will and ready act which should have prevented this war; for had it not been for such men as the traitors who are now crying out for Southern rights, the rebellion would have been far more limited in its area, and long since crushed out. No cruelties on our part, no threats to carry all to the bitter end, would so encourage the South at present, as this offer to shake hands ere the fight be half over.

When the time comes for amnesty and 'Southern Rights,' we trust that they will be considered in a spirit of justice and mercy. Till it comes let there be no word spoken of them. The South has, to its own detriment and to ours, firmly and faithfully believed that Northern men are cowards, misers, men sneaking through life in all dishonor and baseness. When millions believe such intolerable falsehoods of other millions of their fellow-citizens, they must be taught the truth, no matter what the lesson costs. Even now the Southern press asserts that our victories were merely the results of overwhelming majorities, and that the Yankees are becoming frightened at their own successes. There is not one of these traitorous, dough-face meetings of which the details are not promptly sent—probably by the men who organize them—all over the South to inspire faith in a falling cause. When the rebels shall have learned that these traitors have positively no influence here,—and the sooner they learn it the better,—when they realize that the people of the North are as determined as themselves, and their equals in all noble qualities, then, and not till then, will it be time to talk of those concessions which now strike every one as smacking of meanness and cowardice.

The day has come for a new order of things. The South must learn—and show by its acts that it has been convinced—that the North is its equal in those virtues which it claims to monopolize. But this it will only learn from the young and vigorous minds of the new school,—from its enemies,—and not from the trembling old-fashioned traitors, who have been so long at its feet that they shiver and are bewildered, now that they are fairly isolated, by the tide of war, from their former ruler. Politicians of this stamp, who have grown old while prating of Southern rights, can not, do not, and never will realize but that, some day or other, all will be restored in statu quo ante bellum. They expect Union victories, but somehow believe that their old king will enjoy his own again—that there will be a morning when the South will rule as before. It is this which inspires their craven timidity. They cry out against emancipation in every form,—blind to the onward and inevitable changes which are going on,—so that when the South comes in again they may point to their record and say, 'We were ever true to you. We, indeed, urged the war, for we were compelled by you to fight, but we were always true to your main principles.' They have wasted time and trouble sadly—it will all be of no avail. Be it by the war, be it by what means it may, the social system and political rule of the South are irrevocably doomed. It may, from time to time, have its convulsive recoveries, but it is doomed. The demands of free labor for a wider area will make themselves felt, and the black will give way to the white, as in the West the buffalo vanishes before the bee.

We are willing that the question of emancipation should have the widest scope, and, if expediency shall so dictate, that it should be realized in the most gradual manner. We believe that, owing to the experiences of the past year, more than one slave State will, ere long, contain a majority of clear-headed, patriotic men, who will be willing to legalize the freedom of all blacks born within their limits, after a certain time; and if this time be placed ten years or even fifteen hence, it will make no material difference. By that time the pressure of free labor, and the increase of manufacturing, will have rendered some such step a necessity. Should the payment of all loyal slave-holders, in the border States, for their chattels, prove a better plan,—and it could hardly fail to promptly reduce the rebellious circle to a narrow and uninfluential body,—let it be tried. If any of the arguments thus far adduced in favor of assuming slavery to be an institution which is never to be changed, and which must be immutably fixed in the North American Union, can be proved to be true, we would say, then let emancipation be forever forgotten—for the stability of the Union must take precedence of everything. But we can not see it in this light. We can not see that peace and Union can exist while the slave-holder continues to increase in arrogance in the South, and while the abolitionists every day gather strength in the North. Every day of this war has seen the enemies of slavery increase in number and in power, until to expect them to lose power and influence is as preposterous as to hope to see the course of nature change. Should a peace be now patched up on the basis of immutable slavery, we should, to judge from every appearance, simply prolong the war to an infinitely more disastrous end than it now threatens to assume. We should incur debts which would crush our prosperity; we should bequeath a heritage of woe to our children, which would prove their ruin. While the great cause of all this dissension lies legalized and untouched, there will continue to be a party which will never cease to strive to destroy it. The question simply is, whether we will be wounded now, or utterly slain by and by.

Meanwhile let us, before all things, push on with the war! It is by our victories that slavery will be in the beginning most thoroughly attacked. If the South, as it professes, means to fight to the last ditch, and to the black flag, all discussion of emancipation is needless; for in the track of our armies the contraband assumes freedom without further formula. But we are by no means convinced that such will be the case. The first ditches have, as yet, been by no means filled with martyrs to secession,—armistices are already subjects of rumor,—and it should not be forgotten that the Union men of the South are powerful enough to afford efficient aid in placing the question of ultimate emancipation on a basis suitable to all interests.

All that the rational emancipationist requires is a legal beginning. We have no desire to see it advance more rapidly than the development of the country requires—in short, what is really needed is simply the assurance that by war or by peace some basis shall be found for ultimately carrying out the views of the fathers of the American Union, and rendering this great nation harmonious and happy. Every day brings us nearer the great issue,—not of slavery and anti-slavery,—but whether slavery is to be assumed as an immutable element in America, or whether government will bring such influences to bear as will lead the way to peace and the rights of free labor. Every step is leading us to

THE IRREPRESSIBLE CONFLICT.

O Lord, look kindly on this work for thee! Yes, smile upon the side that's for the right! To them O grant the glorious arm of might, And in the end give them the victory! Free principles are rushing like the sea Which opened for the fleeing Israelite,— Free principles, to test their worth in fight,— And woe to them that 'twixt the surges be! And as, O Lord, thou then did'st show thy care, And mad'st a grave to drink thy enemy, So now, O Father, sink him in despair— The only blight we own—cursed Slavery. O then will end the conflict! Yes, God, then We'll be indeed a nation of FREE MEN!

* * * * *

The N.O. Delta is full of indignation at the Southern men who are alarmed for their property, and betrays, in its anger, the fact that these disaffected persons are not few in the Pelican State. But, plucking up courage, it declares that—

Our people will retire into the interior, and in their mountains and swamps they will maintain a warfare which must ultimately prove successful.

Doubtful—very. In the first place, 'our people' can not very well swamp it like runaway negroes, and, secondly, they will encounter, in the mountains, the Union men of the South. Give us the cities and the level country for a short time, and we shall very soon find the Pelicandidates for comfortable quarters rolling back, by thousands, into Unionism.

* * * * *

As we write, there is a panic in Richmond, caused by the discovery that there is a large body of Union men in the city itself, headed by JOHN MINOR BOTTS, who seems to have determined to 'head off' the secession party in its stronghold, 'or die'—he having, since the decease of JOHN TYLER, turned his 'heading off' abilities against JEFF DAVIS. The Examiner mentions, in terror, the confession of the Union prisoners, that there are in Richmond 'thousands of arms concealed, and men enrolled, who would use them on the first approach of the Yankee army.' One of the arrested, a Mr. STEARNS, when led to the prison, surveyed it in a most contemptuous manner, remarking 'If you are going to imprison all the Union men in Richmond, you will have to provide a much larger jail than this.'

It is the German residents of Richmond who are said to constitute the majority of these Union men. All honor to our German friends of the South! They have received, thus far, too little credit for their staunch adherence to the principles of freedom. Let them take courage; a day is coming when we shall all be free—free from every form of slavery! Noch ist die Freiheit nicht verloren!—'Freedom is not lost as yet.' Some of them remember that song of old.

* * * * *

A paragraph has recently gone the rounds, which impudently assures the friends of Emancipation that, unless they promptly desist from further interference or agitation, they will speedily build up a Southern party in the North, which will seriously interfere with the prosecution of the war!

That is to say, that the majority of the people of the North fully acquiesce in the justice of the main principles held by the South—the only difference of opinion being whether these slavery and slavery-extension doctrines can be practically developed under our federal Union! Yet we, knowing, seeing, feeling, in this war, the enormously evil effects of the slave system on the free men among whom it exists, are expected to endure and legalize the cause which stirred it up! Either the South is right or wrong—there is no escaping the dilemma. Either it was or was not justly goaded by 'abolition' into secession. If the South is quite right in wishing to preserve slavery intact forever, surely those are in the wrong who would make war on it for wishing to secede from a government which tolerates attacks on legalized institutions! What a precious paradox have we here? Yet these virtual justifiers of the South in the great cause of the war, claim to be zealous and forward in punishing that secession which, according to their own views, is constitutional and right!

If slavery be right, then the South is right. No impartial foreigner could fail to draw this conclusion under the circumstances of this war. But is it right; we do not say as a thing of the past, and of a rapidly vanishing serf-system, but as an institution of the progressive present? Witness the words of G. BATELLE, a member of the Western Virginia Constitutional Convention,—as we write, in session at Wheeling,—and who has published an address to that body on the question of Emancipation, from which we extract the following:—

The injuries which slavery inflicts upon our own people are manifold and obvious. It practically aims to enslave not merely another race, but our own race. It inserts in its bill of rights some very high-sounding phrases securing freedom of speech; and then practically and in detail puts a lock on every man's mouth, and a seal on every man's lips, who will not shout for and swear by the divinity of the system. It amuses the popular fancy with a few glittering generalities in the fundamental law about the liberty of the press, and forthwith usurps authority, even in times of peace, to send out its edict to every postmaster, whether in the village or at the cross-roads, clothing him with a despotic and absolute censorship over one of the dearest rights of the citizen. It degrades labor by giving it the badge of servility, and it impedes enterprise by withholding its proper rewards. It alone has claimed exemption from the rule of uniform taxation, and then demanded and received the largest share of the proceeds of that taxation. Is it any wonder, in such a state of facts, that there are this day, of those who have been driven from Virginia mainly by this system, men enough, with their descendents, and means and energy, scattered through the West, of themselves to make no mean State?...

It has been as a fellow-observer, and I will add as a fellow-sufferer, with the members of the Convention, that my judgment of the system of slavery among us has been formed. We have seen it seeking to inaugurate, in many instances all too successfully, a reign of terror in times of profound peace, of which Austria might be ashamed. We have seen it year by year driving out from our genial climate, and fruitful soil, and exhaustless natural resources, some of the men of the very best energy, talent and skill among our population. We have seen also, in times of peace, the liberty of speech taken away, the freedom of the press abolished, and the willing minions of this system, in hunting down their victims, spare from degradation and insult neither the young, nor the gray-haired veteran of seventy winters, whose every thought was as free from offense against society as is that of the infant of days.

When an evil attains this extent, he is a poor citizen, a poor cowardly dallier with opinions, whatever his fighting mark may be, who can make up his mind to calmly acquiesce in establishing its permanence, or to stiffly oppose every movement and every suggestion tending in the least towards its abrogation.

* * * * *

In the present number of the CONTINENTAL will be found an article on General LYON, in which reference is made to the generally credited assertion, that the deceased hero was not reinforced as he desired during the campaign in Missouri. This is one of the questions which time alone will properly answer. In accordance with the principles involved in audi alteram partem, we give on this subject the following abridgment of a portion of General FREMONT'S defense, published in the New York Tribune of March 6:—

Lyon's and Prentiss's troops were nearly all three months men, whose term of enlistment was about expiring. Arms and money were wanted, but men offered in abundance. The three months men had not been paid. The Home Guards were willing to remain in the service, but their families were destitute. Gen. Fremont wrote to the President, stating his difficulties, and informing him that he should peremptorily order the United States Treasurer there to pay over to his paymaster-general the money in his possession, sending a force at the same time to take the money. He received no reply, and assumed that his purpose was approved.

Five days after he arrived at St. Louis he went to Cairo, taking three thousand eight hundred men for its reinforcement. He says that Springfield was a week's march, and before he could have reached it, Cairo would have been taken by the rebels, and perhaps St. Louis. He returned to St. Louis on the 4th of August, having in the meantime ordered two regiments to the relief of Gen. Lyon, and set himself to work at St. Louis to provide further reinforcements for him; but he claims that Lyon's defeat can not be charged to his administration, and quotes from a letter from General Lyon, dated on the 9th of August, expressing the belief that he would be compelled to retire; also, from a letter written by Lyon's adjutant general, in which he says 'General Fremont was not inattentive to the situation of General Lyon's column.'

* * * * *

A daily cotemporary, in an onslaught on Emancipation, contains the following:—

Delaware has recently had a proposition before the legislature to abolish the scarcely more than nominal slavery still existing in it; but the legislature adjourned without even listening to it, though it contemplated full pecuniary compensation.

Yes; and the legislature of Delaware, a few years ago, legalized lotteries,—one of the greatest social curses of the country,—and made itself a hissing and a by-word to all decent men by sanctioning the most widely-destructive method of gambling known. The Delaware legislature indeed!

* * * * *

We are indebted to a friend for the following paragraph:—

It is deeply significant that since the late Federal victories, the Southern press, even in Richmond itself, speaks nervously and angrily of the Union men among them, and of their increasing boldness in openly manifesting their sentiments. A few months since, this belief in Union men in the South was abundantly ridiculed by those who believed that all the slave-holding States were unanimous in rebellion, and that therefore it would be preposterous to hope to reconcile them to emancipation. Now that the Union strength in that region is beginning to manifest itself, we are informed that we shall lose it if we do aught contrary to Southern rights. And this too, although the Southern Union men have never been spoken of by their rebel neighbors as aught save 'the abolitionists in our midst!'

* * * * *

The following communication from a well-known financier and writer on currency can not fail to be read with interest by all:—

THE SINEWS OF WAR.

These are, men and money, but especially MONEY, for on the money depends the men. In a good cause, with an educated, intelligent people, every man able to discern for himself the right side of the question presented, there is no difficulty about men; the state has only to say how many are needed, and the want will be promptly supplied. The experience of the last six months gives us evidence sufficient on this point: an army of six hundred thousand men drawn together without an effort, every man a volunteer,—a spectacle never before exhibited to the world,—puts at rest all doubt upon it; and not only that, it settles beyond all cavil the superiority of self-government, based on the broadest principles of freedom and the broadest system of education, over any other form which has ever been adopted. Passing from this, however, as a fact which needs no argument or illustration, we come to the more difficult question of how to raise the other sinew—money.

In calling for men the state relies upon the intelligence and patriotism of its citizens; upon their intelligence to understand the cause, on their patriotism to respond to its call. It offers them no inducements in the shape of pay, nothing more than to feed and clothe them, to aid them hereafter if wounded, to keep their families from starvation if they are killed. This is all; and this is enough. But these assumed obligations of the state must be sacredly and promptly kept. Our noble volunteers must be fed, and clothed, and cared for, and to this end the state must have the requisite means. And to obtain the needed supply without oppressive taxation on the one hand, or placing a load on posterity too heavy to be borne on the other hand, is a question of difficult solution; and yet we shall see that there is in the present administration the ability and the will to solve it.

It is said that our expenditures in this great struggle will, by the first of June, amount to the enormous sum of $600,000,000. It is said by the arch traitor at the head of the rebels that under this load of debt we shall sink. It is said by the leading papers of England that we have no money, have exhausted our credit, must disband our armies, and make the best terms we can with rebellion. Doubtless, our credit in Europe is at a low ebb just now, and we are thrown upon our own resources, and on these we must swim or sink. There is nothing to reject in this. We have shown the world how a free state can raise troops and create a navy out of its own materials; and now we will show the world how a free state can maintain its army and navy out of its own resources; and if the result proves—as it will prove—that our free institutions are the safest, strongest, and best for the people in war as well as in peace, then the great struggle we are now going through with will be worth more to the true interests of humanity everywhere than all the battles which have been fought since the dawn of the present century. For a hundred years, openly or covertly, but without intermission, has war been going on between despotism and freedom, with varied success, but on the whole with a steady gain for freedom; and now here, on the same field where it originated, is the long strife to be finally settled. On these same fields the same freedom is to culminate in unquenchable splendor, or to set forever, leaving mankind to grope in darkness and ignorance under the misrule of despotic tyranny. We are in arms not only to suppress an odious uprising of despotism against freedom within our own borders, but to show by our example, to all the nations of the earth, what freedom is and what freedom means.

In seeking aid of the money power, we go beyond the line where patriotism gives us all we need, promptly and liberally, into the cold region of selfishness, whose people are too much absorbed in adding to and counting up their gains to be able to spare much time or thought on country or freedom. No voluntary sacrifices to be expected here. What we want we must buy, and pay for; it is only to see that we do not pay too much for it. Selfish, timid, grasping, these people are a skittish set to deal with. Nobody understands better the game of 'the spider and the fly,' and they are as ready to play it with the state as with smaller opponents, if the state will but let them. From his first visit to this region, to the present time, our able Secretary of the Treasury was, and continues to be, 'master of the position.'

When the Secretary held his first sociable with the representatives of the money power, neither he nor they had a very keen perception of what they wanted of each other; the rebellion was not then developed in the gigantic proportions it has since assumed; and it was hoped and expected, with some show of reason, that two or three hundred millions would be enough to put it down. This amount the power could and would willingly furnish for a 'consideration,' the half presently, on condition that it should be allowed the refusal of the other half when it should be wanted; and so a bargain was quickly struck, to the mutual content of both parties. But, as the thunder grew louder and the storm fiercer, it became evident that our wants would soon be doubled, at least. The money power hung back; the 7-3/10 remained in the banks. The representatives said they were only agents, the agents stopped payment, and the whole circulation of gold fell to the ground at once, not only putting a sudden check upon all business operations, but leaving the Treasury without any sort of currency to pay out: a sad state of things enough. The money power drew in its head, pretending not to see anything, waiting for propositions, expecting to reap a rich harvest out of the state's necessities, by making its own terms. How could it be otherwise? must not the state have several hundred millions? must not the astute Secretary sell the state's promises to pay, secured by a first mortgage on all Uncle Sam's vast possessions, on their own terms?

It was not a pleasant predicament for a nervous or a faint-hearted man to be placed in. But then Mr. Chase is neither nervous nor faint-hearted, and when Congress came together he not only told his wants frankly, but proposed a neat little plan for supplying them without selling notes at fifty per cent. discount. Taking into view the want of a sound currency for business purposes, and the want of some currency to pay out from the Treasury instead of the gold which had disappeared and left a vacuum, he proposed to borrow $150,000,000, by issuing Treasury Notes, payable on demand, without interest, and making them a legal tender for the payment of all debts, with a proviso that any parties who should at any time have more on hand than they wanted should be allowed to invest them in bonds bearing six per cent interest. It was a very simple proposition—almost sublime for its simplicity; there was no mystery about it; and yet it was the very turning point of the ways and means of crushing the rebellion, without being ourselves crushed under an unbearable burden of debt. The money power stood aghast, and hardly recovered breath in time to oppose its passage through Congress; but the common sense of the people hailed Mr. Chase as a deliverer, and Congress endorsed common sense. Seriously, this splendid invention of the Secretary has given a new face to our financial affairs by placing the money power where it always should be,—in subservience to the people,—instead of allowing it to become a grinding task-master. The importance of this measure can hardly be appreciated yet. A member of Congress, himself a merchant, and an able financier, says:

'My theory in regard to it is, that as the currency is increased by the addition of these notes to its volume, prices generally will rise, including the price of U.S. bonds, until they reach par; at that point, these notes, being convertible into bonds, the rise in the price of bonds will stop, because further additions to the currency, whether of these notes, bank notes, or coin, will only stimulate the conversion of notes into bonds; and that conversion will check the increase of currency. The excess of notes will then be gradually withdrawn from circulation for conversion,—leaving only such an amount in circulation as a healthy and natural condition of the currency will require.'

A theory in which we fully concur. We see growing out of it a restoration of business: government creditors paid in a currency equal to gold; low prices for all government contracts; a consequent diminished expenditure for supplies, and an annual payment for interest on the debt we shall owe, which can be easily met without heavy taxation. However it may turn out in the conduct of the war,—and we have full faith in that also,—it is very certain that in the conduct of the finances we have found the man for the times. The whole country feels this, and breathes easier for it. The arch rebel, in a recent address to his satellites, admits that he altogether underestimated the patriotism and loyalty of the men of the North, but takes fresh courage from the certainty that we shall shortly back down under our load of debt. A little further on and he will find that he has just as much mistaken our power in that respect,—that as his own worthless promises, based upon nothing, fall to nothing, the notes of the Union will stand as firm and as fair in the money market as her banner will on the battle-field.

Men and money are the sinews of war. In our first trial, patriotism has furnished the men, and the presiding genius of the Treasury has clearly pointed out the means for obtaining the money. Laus Deo!

* * * * *

Note.—For the benefit of those of our readers who do not understand currency facts and theories, we make the following explanation. The relation of currency, or circulation medium, to the industry and business of the state, is similar to that of steam in an engine: a certain amount is required to keep up a regular and natural movement; an excessive amount causes too rapid motion, and a deficiency the reverse. Currency is made up of several things. Bank deposits, circulating by checks, bank notes, and coin, are the most important and best understood. The aggregate amount of these three items before the suspension of specie payments was above $450,000,000; and this sum is required to give a healthy movement to business affairs. Take away any portion of it, and prices fall and labor languishes, because the motion from it is too small for the work required; add considerably to it, and prices rise, because the motive power, being superabundant, is too freely used. When specie payment was suspended this motive power was reduced; the circulating medium fell from four hundred and fifty to three hundred and fifty millions, perhaps less; and unless this loss is replaced it is quite clear that prices must fall and the employment of labor be curtailed. The issue of treasury notes will fill the gap, making the business motive power of the same strength and ability as before. Thus it will be seen that the emission of treasury notes plays an important part upon the industry and business of the state, which, under existing circumstances, can hardly be over-valued, as well as in the national finances.

* * * * *

The Darwin-development theory has of late attracted no little attention. One of our contributors favors us with his views in the following 'wild-verse,' which is itself rather of the transition order:—

MODERN ANSWERS TO ANCIENT RIDDLES.

'Whar did ye come from? Who d'ye belong to!'—Ethiops.

Philosophers say, deny it who may, That the man who stands upright so bravely to-day, Once crawled as a reptile with nose to the sod, His grandfather Monad a bit of a clod.

To be sure, man's descent is not made out quite plain, But one or two guesses might piece out the chain; If the chain is quite long a few links won't be missed; Or, if you must join it, just give it a twist.

A bold Boston doctor, by stride superhuman, Makes only a step from a snake to a woman; Or, inspect your best friends by Granville's good glass, And the difference's as small 'twixt a man and an ass.

'From the company he keeps we may learn a man's nature;' If he will play with monkey, dog, cat, or such creature, The schoolmen will say, as a matter of course, 'Cum hoc ergo propter hoc.' Notice its force!

If with doubts you're still puzzled, and wonder who can Answer all your objections, why Darwin's your man. He can bridge o'er a chasm both broad and profound; The last thing he needs for a theory is ground.

Bring your queries and facts, no matter how tough; Development doctrine makes light of such stuff. One example of these will perhaps be enough:— 'These crawlers,' for instance, 'should they be still here,' 'Not yet become bipeds?' The answer is clear:

In our strangely unequal organic advance, He is the most forward who has the best chance. By braving the weather and struggling with brother, The one who survives it all gains upon t'other.

The old Bible 'myth,' now, of Jacob and Esau, Is the struggle 'twixt species, the monkey and man law; One hairy, one handsome, one favored, one cursed; And sometimes the last one turns out to be first.

Still, through cycles enough let the laggard persist, Let the weak be suppressed since he can not resist, And, proceeding by logic which none may dispute, Can't we safely infer there's an end to the brute?

You may, if you please, supersede Revelation, By wholly new methods of ratiocination; Though, since head and heart need be in contradiction, Why should reason hold faith under any restriction? Shut your eyes, and guess down heaven's good pious fiction.[P]

Noah's ark was superfluous. Where were his brains, For those beasts and those sons to provide with such pains, When they might to a deluge cry Fiddle di dee, And sprout fins and scales, if they took to the sea?

Well, perhaps in those days they had not yet known That by need of new functions new organs are grown. Those drowned chaps were sure a 'degenerate' crew, Or else, on their plunge into element new, Some 'law of selection' had rescued a few. And, 'if wishes were fishes' I think one or two Would have wished, and swam out of their scrape, do not you? Can it be that those 'Fish Tales' of mermen are true?

No wonder that racing was always in fashion,— All orders of beings were born with the passion— But it seems that at length Genus Man will be winner. You cry 'Lucky dog!' But what now about dinner?

No oysters, no turtle, fresh salmon, fried sole, No canvas duck nor fowl casserole. All these he has seen disappear from the stage, A sacrifice vast growing age after age.

Their successive growth upward he's watched with dismay; They have come to be men, having all had their day! Though he took, while its lord, quite a taste of the creature, By rule Epicurean 'dum vivim.,' etcetera.

In Paradise, Adam and Eve, to be sure, Since they didn't have flesh, ate their onion sauce pure, But, as our old friend John P. Robinson he Said, 'they didn't know everything down in Judee.'

Now the better taught modern he very well knows What to beef and to mutton society owes. What are homes without hearths? What's a hearth without roasts? Or a grand public dinner with nothing but toasts?

Yet, what government measure, or scheme philanthropic, Or learned convention in hall philosophic, But is mainly sustained upon leasts and collations? At least, it is so in all civilized nations.

Here's a fix! Yet indeed, soon or late, the whole race Must the problem decide on, with good or ill grace. We cannot go hungry; what are we to do? Shall we pulse it, like Daniel, that knowing young Jew? Letting Grahamite doctors our diet appoint, Eat our very plain pudding without any joint?

Or, shall we the bloody alternative take, And cannibal meals of our relatives make, Put aside ancient scruples (for what's in a name?) And shake hands with the dainty New Zealander dame, Who thought that she really might relish a bit Of broiled missionary brought fresh from the spit?

'Twere surely most cruel in Nature our nurse, Man's march of improvement so quick to reverse. Will she offer a choice which we may not refuse, When we're sure to turn savage however we choose?

We may slowly creep up to a lofty position, Then go back at one leap to the lower condition. Even so, my good friend, in a circle he goes, Who would follow such theories on to their close. If you've started with Darwin, as sure as you're born, You're in a dilemma; pray take either horn.

T.

* * * * *

Who has not belonged in his time to a debating society? What youth ambitious of becoming 'a perfect Hercules behind the bar?'—as a well meaning but unfortunate Philadelphian once said in a funeral eulogy over a deceased legal friend—has not 'debated' in a club 'formed for purposes of mutual and literary improvement of the mind?' All who have will read with pleasure the following letter from one who has most certainly been there:—

DEAR CONTINENTAL:

I am a man that rides around over the 'kedn'try.' In the little village where I am now tarrying, the school-house bell is ringing to call together the members of that ancient institution peculiar to villages, the debating society. A friend informs me that the time-honored questions—Should capital punishment be abolished?—Did Columbus deserve more praise than Washington?—Is art more pleasing to the eye than nature?—have each had their turn in their regular rotation, and that the question for to-night is—as you might suppose—Has the Indian suffered greater wrongs at the hands of the White man than the Negro? As I have a distinct recollection of having thoroughly investigated and zealously declaimed on each of the above topics in days lang syne, I shall excuse myself from attendance this evening, on the ground that I am already extensively informed on the subject in hand, and my mind is fully made up. But I hereby acknowledge my indebtedness to the good fellow who told me the object of the ringing of the bell—for he has unconsciously started up some of the most amusing recollections of my life. Sitting here alone in my room, I have just taken a hearty laugh over a circumstance that had well-nigh given me the slip. The question was the same Negro-Indian-White-man affair. One of the orators, having, a long time previously, seen a picture in an old 'jography' of some Indians making a hubbub on board certain vessels, and reading under it, Destruction of Tea in Boston Harbor, brought up the circumstance, and insisting with great earnestness that the white man had received burning wrongs at the hands of the Indian, and that the latter had no reason at all to complain, dwelt with great emphasis on the ruthless destruction of the white man's tea in Boston Harbor by the latter, in proof of his 'point.'

I remember also a debating society in the little village of R——, which numbered some really very worthy and intelligent members, but of course included some that were otherwise, among whom was a silly young fellow, who had mistaken his proper calling—(he should have been a wood-chopper), and was suffering under an attack at medicine. The question for debate on one occasion was—Is conscience an infallible guide? Being expected to take part in the discussion, he was bent on thorough preparation, and ransacked his preceptor's professional library—(almost as poor a place as a lawyer's) for a work on conscience. He found abundance of matter, however, for a lengthy chapter on the subject, as he supposed, occurring in several of the dusty octavos, and he thumbed the leaves with most patient assiduity. He had misspelled the word however, and was reading all the while on consciousness—a subject which would very naturally occur in some departments of medicine. But it was all one to him, he didn't see the difference, and the ridiculous display he made to us of his 'cramming' on consciousness can be better imagined than described.

Years after found me inside college walls—but colleges in the West, be it remembered, sometimes include preparatory departments, into which, by the courtesy of the teachers, many young men are admitted who would hardly make a respectable figure in the poorest country school, but who by dint of honest toil finally do themselves great credit.

I 'happened in' on a number of such, one evening, whose affinities had drawn them together with a view to forming a debating society, to be made exclusively of their own kind. I listened with much interest and pleasure to the preliminaries of organization, and smiled, when they were about to 'choose a question,' to see them bring out the same old coaches mentioned in the beginning of this article; when one of their number arose, evidently dissatisfied with the old beaten track, and seemed bent on opening a new vein. He was a good, honest, patient fellow, but his weakness in expressing himself was, that, although his delivery was very slow, he didn't know how he was going to end his sentences when he began them. 'Mr. President,' said he, 'how would this do? Suppose a punkin seed sprouts in one man's garden, and the vine grows through the fence, and bears a punkin on another man's ground—now—(a long pause)—the question is—whose punkin—does it belong to?' The poor fellow subsided, as might be supposed, amid a roar of voices and a crash of boots.

There is a legal axiom which would settle the pumpkin-vine query—that of cujus est solum ejus est usque ad coelum—'ownership in the soil confers possession of everything even as high as heaven.' Our friends in Dixie seem determined to prove that they have also fee simple in their soil downwards as far as the other place, and by the last advices were digging their own graves to an extent which will soon bring them to the utmost limit of their property!

* * * * *

Does the reader remember Poor Pillicoddy, and the mariner who was ever expected to turn up again? Not less eccentric, as it seems to us, is the re-apparition chronicled in the following story by a friend:—

TURNING UP AGAIN!

'You were all through that Mexican war, and out with Walker in Niggerawger.—Well, what do you think 'bout Niggerawger? Kind of a cuss'd 'skeeter hole, ain't it?'

'Tain't so much 'skeeters as 'tis snaiks, scorpiums and the like,' answered the gray-moustached corporal. 'It's hot in them countries as a Dutch oven on a big bake; and going through them parts, man's got to move purty d——d lively to git ahead of the yaller fever; it's right onto his tracks the hull time.'

'Did you git that gash over your nose out there?'

'Yes, I got that in a small scrimmage under old GRAY EYES. 'Twas next day after a fight though, cum to think on it. We'd been up there and took a small odobe hole called Santa Sumthin', and had spasificated the poperlashun, when I went to git a gold cross off an old woman, and she up frying-pan of frijoles and hit me, so!' Here the corporal aimed a blow with his pipe at the face of the high private he was talking with;—the latter dodged it.

'That was a big thing, that fight at Santa Sumthin'; the way we went over them mud walls, and wiped out the Greasers, was a cortion. I rac'lect when we was drawed up company front, afore we made the charge, there was a feller next me in the ranks—I didn't know him from an old shoe, 'cause he'd ben drafted that morning into us from another company. Says he,—

'We're going into hair and cats' claws 'fore long, and as I'm unbeknownst amongst you fellers, I'd like to make a bargain with you.'

'Go it,' says I; 'I'm on hand for ennything.'

'Well,' says he, 'witchever one of us gits knocked over, the tother feller 'll look out for him, and if he ain't a goner 'll haul him out, so the doctor can work onto him.'

'Good,' says I, 'you may count me in there; mind you look after ME!'

The fight began, and when we charged, the fust thing I knowed the feller next me, wot made the bargain, he went head over heels backwards; and to tell the honest trooth, I was just that powerful egsited I never minded him a smite, but went right ahead after plunder and the Greasers, over mud walls and along alleys, till I got, bang in, where I found something worth fighting about it. 'Bout dusk, when we was all purty full of agwadenty, they sent us out to bury our fellers as was killed in the scrimmage; and as we hadn't much time to spare, we didn't dig a hole more'n a foot or two deep, and put all our fellers in, in a hurry. Next morning airly, as I was just coming out of a church where I'd ben surveyin' some candle-stix with a jack-knife to see ef they were silver, [witch they were not,—hang em!]—as I was coming out of the church I felt a feller punch me in the back—so I turned round to hit him back, when I see the feller, as had stood by me in the ranks the day before, all covered over with dirt, and mad as a ringtail hornet.

'Hello!' said I.

'Hello! yourself,' said he. 'I want ter know what yer went and berried me for, afore I was killed for?'

I never was so put to for a answer afore in all my life, 'cause I wanted to spasificate the feller, so I kind of hemmed, and says I—'Hm! the fact was, this dirty little hole of a town was rayther crowded last night, and I—just to please you, yer know—I lodged you out there; but I swear I was this minute going out there to dig you up for breakfuss!'

'If that's so,' said he, 'we won't say no more 'bout it; but the next time you do it, don't put a feller in so deep; for I had a oncommon hard scratch turning up again!'

H.P.L.

We are indebted to the same writer for the following Oriental market-picture—we might say scene in a proverb:

PROVERBIALLY WISE.

ACHMET sat in the bazaar, calmly smoking: he had said to himself in the early morning,—'When I shall have made a hundred piastres I will shut up shop for the day, and go home and take it easy, al'hamdu lillah!' Now a hundred piastres in the land of the faithful, where the sand is and the palms grow, is equal to a dollar in the land of Jonathan: and the expression he concluded his sentence with is equivalent to—Praise be to Allah!

Along came a blind fakir begging; then ACHMET gave him five paras, although his charity was unseen; neither did he want it to be seen, for he said to himself,—

'Do good and throw it into the sea—if the fishes don't know it, God will.'

And as he handed the poor blind fakir the small coin, he said to him, in a soothing voice,—

'Fa'keer' (which in the Arabic means poor fellow), 'the nest of a blind bird is made by Allah.'

Then along came SULIMAN BEY, who was high in office in the land of Egypt, and was wealthy, and powerful, and very much hated and feared. And ACHMET bowed down before him, and performed obeisance in the manner of the Turks, touching his own hand to his lips, his breast, his head:—and the SULIMAN BEY went proudly on. Then ACHMET smiled, and YUSEF, who had a stall in the bazaar opposite to him, winked to ACHMET, saying, in a low voice,—

'Kiss ardently the hands which you can not cut off:'—

and they smiled grimly one unto the other.

'Did you hear the music in the Esbekieh garden yesterday?' asked YUSEF of ACHMET. 'I think it was horrible.'

'It cost nothing to hear it,' quoth ACHMET: 'there was no charge made.'

'Aio! true,' answered YUSEF; 'but there were too many drums; I wouldn't have one if I were Pacha.'

'Welcome even pitch, if it is gratis.'

'Wanting to make the eyebrows right, pull out the eyes,' said ACHMET, contentedly. 'And as for your disliking the music,—A cucumber being given to a poor man, he did not accept it because it was crooked!'—'Come, let us shut up shop and go to the mosque. It is fated that we sell no goods to-day. Wajadna bira'hmat allah ra'hah—By the grace of Allah we have found repose!'

* * * * *

Our correspondent gives us a pun in our last number over again. It is none the worse, however, for its new coat, as set forth in

GETTING AHEAD OF TIME.

'Well now, I declare, this is too bad. Here it is five minutes past ten and BUDDEN ain't here. Did anybody ever know that man to keep an engagement?'

'Yes,' replied the Doctor to the Squire, 'I knew him to keep one.'

'Let it out,' said the Squire.

'An engagement to get married.'

'Hm!' replied the Squire, looking over his spectacles with the air of one who had been deceived. At this moment JERRY BUDDEN, a jolly-looking, fat, middle-aged man entered the office quietly and coolly, having all the air of one who arrived half an hour before the appointed time of meeting.

'Got ahead of time this morning, any way,' said Jerry.

'The devil you did!' spoke the Squire, testily; 'you are seven minutes behind time this morning; you would be behindhand to-morrow and next day, and so on as long as you live. Confound it, Jerry, you make me mad with your laziness and coolness. Ahead of time! why look at that watch!'—Here the Squire, pulling out a plethoric-looking, smooth gold watch, about the size of a bran biscuit, held it affectionately in the palm of his right hand. 'Look at that watch!'

'Nice watch,' said Jerry, 'very nice watch. The best of watches will sometimes get out of order though. How long since you had it cleaned?'

The Squire looked indignant, and broke out, 'I've carried that watch more'n thirty year; I have it cleaned regularly, and it is always right to a minute, always! It's you that want regulating.'

'Can't help it,' spoke Jerry; 'I got ahead of time this morning.'

'Bet you a hat on it,' said the Squire.

'Done!' answered Jerry. And, putting his hand in his pocket, he deliberately produced the torn page of an old almanac, and, pointing to part of an engraving of the man with an hour-glass, said to the Squire,—

'Hain't I got a Head of Time—this morning?'

Jerry now wears a new hat!

* * * * *

'What poor slaves are the American people!' says the Times' own RUSSELL. 'They may abjure kings and princes, but they are ruled by hotel-keepers and waiters.' The following translation from the Persian shows, however, that a man may be a king or a prince and a hotel-keeper at the same time.

A ROYAL HOTEL-KEEPER.

FROM THE PERSIAN. BY HENRY P. LELAND.

IBRAM BEN ADHAM at his palace gate, Sits, while in line his pages round him wait; When a poor dervish, staff and sack in hand, Straight would have entered IBRAM'S palace grand. 'Old man,' the pages asked, 'where goest thou now?' 'In that hotel,' he answered, with a bow. The pages said,—'Ha! dare you call hotel A palace, where the King of Balkh doth dwell?' IBRAM the King next to the dervish spoke: 'My palace a hotel? Pray, where's the joke?' 'Who,' asked the dervish, 'owned this palace first?' 'My grandsire,' IBRAM said, while wrath he nursed. 'Who was the next proprietor?' please say. 'My father:' thus the king replied straightway. 'Who hired it then upon your father's death?' 'I did,' King IBRAM answered, out of breath. 'When you shall die, who shall within it dwell?' 'My son,' the King replied. 'Why ask'st thou? Tell!' 'IBRAM!' then spoke the dervish to him straight, 'I'll answer thee, nor longer make thee wait. The place where travelers come, and go as well, Is, really, not a palace, but—hotel!'

Yea, friends; and, as another genial poet has discovered, life itself is but a hostelrie or tavern, where some get the highest rooms, while others, of greater social weight, gravitate downwards into the first story, sinking like gold to the bottom of the hotel pan,—that is O.W. HOLMES', his idea, reader, not ours. Apropos of HOLMES and kings—his thousands of reader friends have ere this seen with pleasure that the Emperor of all the French was not unmindful of one of his brother-potentates,—in the world of song,—when he paid OLIVER WENDELL the courteous compliment which has of late gone the rounds, and which conferred as much honor on the giver as the taker thereof.

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The Spring poems have begun. Vide licet.

TO AN EARLY BIRD.

In homely phrase we oft are told 'Tis early birds that catch the worms; But certainly that Spring bird there Don't half believe the aforesaid terms.

He's sorry that he hither flew, In hopes a forward March to find, And towards warm climates, whence he came, To backward march is sore inclined.

Lured by one ray of sunlight, he Flew northward to our land of snow; And now, with frozen toes, he stands On frozen earth:—the worms—below!

Tu whit! whit! whit! he tries in vain To whistle in a cheerful way; He feels he's badly sold, and that— He came too early in the day.

I sprinkle seed and crumbs around; He quickly flies and famished eats:— He would have starved to death had he Relied on proverb-making cheats.

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Of the same up-Springings, in higher vein, we have the following:—

APRIL.

BY ED. SPRAGUE RAND.

Now with the whistling rush of stormy winds, 'Mid weeping skies and smiling, sunny hours, Comes the young Spring, and scatters, from the pines, O'er the brown—woodland soft, balsamic showers.

Wake, azure squirrel cups, on grassy hills! Peep forth, blue violets, upon the heath! The epigraea from the withered leaves Sends out the greeting of her perfumed breath.

Nodding anemones within the wood Shake off the winter's sleep, and haste to greet; Where in the autumn the blue asters stood, The saxifrage creeps out, with downy feet.

Nature is waking! From a wreath of snow, Close by the garden walls, the snowdrop springs; And the air rings with tender melodies, Where thro' the dark firs flash the bluebird's wings.

A few days hence, and o'er the distant hills A tender robe of verdure shall be spread, And life in myriad forms be manifest, Where all seemed desolate, and dark, and dead.

E'en now, upon the sunny woodland slopes, The fair vanessa flits with downy wing; And in the marshes, with the night's approach, The merry hylas in full chorus sing.

Patience and faith, all will be bright again. Take from the present, for the future hours, The tendered promise. In the storm and rain, Remember suns shine brighter for the showers.

To us, my countrymen, the lesson comes; Our night of winter dawns in brightest day; The storm is passing, and the rising sun Dispels our doubts, drives cloudy fears away.

The sun of freedom, veiled in clouds too long, Sheds o'er our land its rays of quickening life; And liberty, our starry banner, waves, Proclaiming freedom mid the battle's strife.

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STRIKING TURPENTINE.

Not a bad story that of the physician, who, vaccinating several medical students, 'performed the ceremony' for a North Carolinian from the pitch, tar and turpentine districts. The lancet entering the latter's arm a little too deep, owing to the Corn-cracker jerking his arm through nervousness, one of the medical students called out,—

'Take care there, doctor, if you don't look out you'll strike turpentine.'

The Corn-cracker—full of spirit—wanted to fight.

We should have handed this anecdote over to X., who travels through the Pines, that he might pronounce on its authenticity. The following, however, we know to be true—on the word of a very spirituelle dame, long resident in the Old North State. When the present war first sent its murmurs over the South, an old bushman earnestly denied that it 'would ruin everything.' 'Kin it stop the turpentime from running?' he triumphantly cried. 'In course not. Then what difference kin it make to the country?'

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The following sketch, 'Hiving the Bees and what came of it,' from a valued friend and correspondent in New Haven, is a humorous and truthful picture of the old-fashioned rural 'discipline' once so general and now so rapidly becoming a thing of the past:—

HIVING BEES AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

When a boy at school in the town of G——I became acquainted with old Deacon Hubbard and his wife—two as good Christian people as could be found, simple in their manners and kind-hearted. The deacon was 'well to do in the world,' having a fine farm, a pleasant house, and, with his quiet way of living, apparently everything to make him comfortable.

He took great delight in raising bees, and the product of his hives was every year some hundreds of pounds of honey, for which there was always a ready market, though he frequently gave away large quantities among his neighbors.

One Sunday morning, when passing the place of Deacon Hubbard on my way to meeting, I saw the deacon in his orchard near his house, apparently in great trouble about something in one of his apple trees. I crossed the road to the fence and called to him, and asked him what was the matter. He was a very conscientious man, and would not do anything on the Lord's day that could be done on any other; but he cried, 'Oh, dear! my bees are swarming, and I shall surely lose them. If I was a young man I could climb the tree and save them, but I am too old for that.' I jumped over the fence, and as I approached him he pointed to a large dark mass of something suspended from the limb of an apple tree, which to me was a singular-looking object, never having before seen bees in swarming time. I had great curiosity to see the operation of hiving, and suggested that perhaps I could help him, though at the time afraid the bees would sting me for my trouble. The gratification to be derived I thought would repay the risk, and calling to mind some lines I had heard,—

'Softly, gently touch a nettle, It will sting thee for thy pains; Grasp it like a man of mettle, Soft and harmless it remains,—'

I told him that I would assist him. He assured me that if I could only get a rope around the limb above and fasten it to the one on which the bees were, then saw off that limb and lower it down, he could secure them without much trouble.

With saw and rope in hand I ascended the tree, and, after due preparation, severed the limb and carefully lowered it within the deacon's reach. I was surprised, and felt repaid for my trouble, to see with what ease and unconcern Dea. Hubbard, with his bare hands, scooped and brushed the swarm of bees into a sheet he had prepared, and how readily he got them into a vacant hive. Many thanks did the deacon proffer me for my timely assistance, and moreover insisted on my staying with him to dine. It seemed to me that I was never in a more comfortable house, and I am sure I never received a more cordial greeting than that bestowed upon me by his venerable spouse.

The place where I boarded with several other boys was with a widow lady by the name of White, who was very kind to me, but who had the misfortune to have had three husbands, and her daughters did not all revere the memory of the same father, and consequently there were oftentimes differences among them.

For several days after this transaction I had noticed on the table at our daily meal a nice dish of honey, an unusual treat, but to which we boys paid due respect.

My term at school expired, and I went home to my father's, a distance of some thirty miles, and assisted him on the farm during the fall months, employing much of my leisure time in studying.

My father was a stern, straight-forward man—a member of the Orthodox church, and one who professed to believe in all the proprieties of life, and endeavored to impress the same on the minds of his children.

One day, after dinner, he said to me, in his stern way of speaking,—'Gilbert, what kind of scrape did you get into in G——?'

For my life I could not tell what I had been doing, and had but little chance to think, ere he tossed a letter across the table and said, 'Read that, and tell me what it means!' The letter was directed to me, but he had exercised his right to open and read it for me. It was from G——, and signed by the four deacons of the church there, asking explicit answers to the following questions:—1st. Did you help Deacon Hubbard hive his bees? 2d. If so, did you receive any remuneration from him for your services? 3d. Will you state what it was? You are expected to answer the questions fully.'

'What have you to say to that, young man?' said my father, with more than usual sternness; and I began to think that I had got into some kind of difficulty.

I told him that I would answer the letter, so went to my room and wrote, saying that I did help Deacon Hubbard hive his bees, and that I had been paid a thousand times by the many acts of kindness of himself and wife, and should always feel happy in doing anything for them that I could.

As my father read this letter I had written, I noticed a smile on his countenance, which lasted but an instant, when he said, 'You may send it; but I want to know what this scrape is, and I will.'

A few days after the reply was sent, another letter arrived from the four deacons, stating that I had not been explicit enough in my answer, and wanted me to say, 1st. Whether I had helped Deacon Hubbard hive his bees on Sunday. 2d. Whether I had ever received from him a large pan of honey in the comb? 3d. Whether my father was a member of the church? 4th. Whether he would give his consent for me to come to G—— on business of great importance if they would pay my expenses, and how soon I could come?

It was cold weather, several months after I left G——, when this letter came to hand, and I did not fancy a ride of thirty miles at that time; I however had permission to promise that I would be there on the first Monday in May, which was the day of 'General Training,' and a great day at that period. In my answer to the second letter I said that I thought I had answered their first question sufficiently before; and in answer to the second I would say, that I had never received any honey from Deacon Hubbard; to the third, that my father was a member of the church; and to the fourth, that I would come there on the day named above.

The first Monday in May was a bright and lovely day, and at an early hour I mounted a horse and started for G——, arriving there before noon. On my way into the village I had to pass the house of Deacon Hubbard, who, knowing that I was expected that day, was looking for my approach, and as I drew near the house I saw his venerable form in the road. It was my intention to pass his house without being seen, but that was impossible. He insisted on my going into the house. His good wife met me at the door with a cordial greeting, but, with tearful eyes, said she feared there was some dreadful trouble in store for me, for the deacons of the church had been watching for me all the morning. After explaining as well as I could the reason of my visit, with the little information I had, Deacon Hubbard exclaimed—'Well, I don't know but they'll make you walk the church aisle, for there's some trouble somewhere.' We had but little time for conversation before Mrs. H. saw the venerable deacons approaching the house; and I shall never forget the solemn look and steps with which they advanced, the senior deacon, Flagg, leading the procession. As they were ushered into the front room they seated themselves in a row according to their respective ages, each wearing the solemn countenance of a Pilgrim father. When I entered the room they all arose and took me by the hand, thanking me for faithfully keeping my promise, and hoped the Lord would reward me therefor. Deacon Flagg, after a few preliminary remarks, said: 'Young man, there has been a grievous sin committed among the Lord's anointed in our church, and we have sent for you that we may be enabled to detect the erring one! and we hope you will so far consider the importance of the matter as to answer truly the questions that may be propounded to you. My young friend, will you have the goodness to say, in the hearing of our good brother, Deacon Hubbard, whether or not you ever received from him a present of a large pan of honey for helping him hive his bees?'

I answered that I never had. All eyes were turned on Deacon H., and an audible groan came from Deacon Harris as I made my reply. Deacon Flagg addressed me as follows:—'My youthful friend, will you be willing to accompany these gentlemen to the house of sister White, and say the same before her?' I was willing, provided my friend Deacon Hubbard would go along, which he consented to do, and we started.

It was but a short way across the Common, and ours was a solemn, silent procession, and I must have appeared like a very culprit. On nearing the house, Deacon Flagg said he would first enter and inform sister White of our business, and return when she was ready to receive us. He returned in a short time, with a longer face than before, and as he approached us, clasping his hands, he said with an agonized tone, 'Dear brethren, Oh! it is all too true! Satan entered her heart,—she coveted the honey,—and fell.' A groan of holy horror came from all the good old men. It was not necessary for us to enter the abode of wickedness, he said, for she would confess all.

The whole proceeding had been a mystery to me, but I soon learned that the next day after hiving the bees, Deacon Hubbard had sent a large pan of honey to sister White's house, intended for me, but she gave us boys a little for a few days and put the rest away; or, as she afterwards said, she coveted it, and said nothing to me about it; and I should probably have known nothing of it had it not been for a disagreement between herself and daughters about a division of the honey, which finally got to be a church matter.