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paper;" but more correctly, there was no longer | two clergymen, escorted by 400 soldiers, with any constitution. The slaveholders, from that drums beating the Dead March, and followed by day, saw they had the free states in their power; that they were masters, and the free states slaves; and have acted accordingly. From the passage of the Louisiana Bill until this day, their policy has been directed to a single object, with almost uninterrupted success. That object was to exclude the free states from any share of power, except in subserviency to their views; and they have undeniably, during all the subsequent period of our history (the administration of John Quincy Adams only excepted) placed in the chair of state either slaveholders or men from the free states who, for the sake of power, consented to be their tools-" Northern men with Southern principles;" in other words, men who, for the sake of power or pay, were willing to do any work they would set them upon.'

With the widening scope for slave-labor opened up by the passage of the Louisiana Bill, also the contemporary extension of slavery over portions of the southern states, it will not appear strange that in 1810 (notwithstanding the removal of the institution from several states, and the stoppage of the foreign slave-trade in 1808,) the number of slaves in the Union had increased to 1,191,364-a significant commentary on the hallucinations of the patriot founders of the republic.

SEVENTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX.
A RETROSPECT ON NEW-YEAR'S EVE.
[Continued from page 91.]

In a pamphlet of a much later date, the writer, condemning this horrible system, states that although the unhappy convicts were almost invariably intoxicated when they left Newgate, they were "suffered to stop twice or thrice, on the way to Tyburn, to receive fresh comfort from strong waters.' He further tells us that, after the execution, the hangman stripped the dead bodies, the clothes being his disgusting perquisite. Then the fight commenced among the mob, one party endeavoring to secure the bodies to sell them for dissection, the other to carry them off to their friends for interment. Some wretches,' he continues, are so miserable as to have no mob either for or against them, and their bodies, (it is horrible, but true) lie, to the dishonor of the laws and the disgrace of human nature, absolutely naked under the gallows, till some charitable Christian pays, or till the inhabitants, to be rid of the stench, cause a hole to be dug for interment, without any intervention of authority in either case.'

Referring to newspapers published in the time of the grandfathers of many now living, we read that, on the first Monday in 1756, a deserter from the Foot Guards, a young man of respectable family, was brought out of the Savoy prison in the Strand. Accompanied by his brother and

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an immense crowd, the unhappy deserter was
led through the streets to Hyde Park, and there
shot and buried. The government improved
this occasion in a curious manner. The Sunday
evening previous, warrants for pressing lands-
men were secretly issued, and thus the 400 sol-
diers that guarded the miserable man to execu-
tion, formed a very efficient press-gang among
the crowd that came to witness it. A few days
afterwards, a vagabond fellow' was, by order of
a magistrate, flogged at the public whipping-post
in Covent Garden market for a petty theft.
Early in the year, a hot press took place at
Edinburgh, Leith, Newhaven, and Musselburgh:
the constables of Edinburgh netted sixty cap-
tives on the first day. The next Sunday, a
press-gang made its appearance on the High
Street, just after sermons.' The friends of a
journeyman baker, who was among the captured,
boldly attempted a rescue. In the fray that en-
sued, the gang were worsted, and to save their
lives from the infuriated populace, were glad to
accept the protection of the town-guard. It then
turned out that the gang had no warrant for
their proceedings, but were merely a number of
ruffians pressing, as our American friends would
term it, on their own hook. For every man they
took to the rendezvous at Leith, they received a
consideration, and no questions were asked.
loyal and patriotic subjects, endeavoring to aug-
ment his majesty's forces by sea and land, these
ruffians considered they were entitled to all
praise. But the lord provost, taking another
view of the matter, had the pseudo press-gang
flogged through the city, the magistrates, officers
of the train-brands, constables, and firemen,
honoring the ceremony by their official presence.

As

About the same time, Mr. Blair, the minister of Ruthven in Badenoch, after preaching a sermon on the audacious intention of a French invasion,' offered from the pulpit a guinea to every man who would join Lord John Murray's Highland regiment. Whether there were many or few applicants for the worthy clergyman's guineas, we do not know, but we read in the papers of the day of recruits to the number of thirty at a time being sent off, handcuffed, and under a strong guard, to join the same regiment. While the recruiting system of the present time implies a voluntary contract, it was very different one hundred years ago; for instance, we learn that when the constables and servants of Sir Lewis Mackenzie were employed recruiting on his estate in Ross-shire, one stubborn Celt, named Kenneth Huppy, fled to the hills; and even after a long chase, when overtaken by Sir Lewis's gardener, Huppy, still declining to be recruited, stabbed his pursuer to the heart.

As a somewhat parallel circumstance to the announcement in the kirk of Ruthven, we may

mention that, in the same year, a notice was read
during divine service in the parish church of
St. George's, Middlesex, to inform the congrega-
tion that the church-wardens intended to fit out
a privateer, and subscriptions for the patriotic
purpose would be received in the vestry. We
need scarcely observe, that the war just concluded
was the first ever carried on by this country with-
out having recourse to impressment and priva-
teering. Whether the former was judiciously
abstained from because the people would not
have submitted to it-the latter, because the
enemy had but few merchant-ships to capture, it
were needless to inquire. At any rate, British
subjects were not, as before, inhumanly dragged
away into the worst kind of slavery; nor our
merchants degraded by being connected with a
legalized piracy. The London newspapers of the
period seem to delight in relating the doughty
doings of the press-gang.
We read that on one
occasion the gang received information that a
sailor, their legitimate prey, was protected in a
house in Spitalfields. Here was an opportunity
of distinction, and of lowering the pride and pres-
tige of the Spitalfields men, who had vowed that
no man should ever be pressed in their locality.
The house being known, a powerful gang, making
a sudden foray, dashed into the dangerous dis-
trict, captured their man, and carried him away,
ere the surprised Spitalfieldians could muster in
sufficient force to cut off the hasty retreat. As
it was, the capture was not made without blood-
shed; the gang left behind them two Spitalfields-
men lying dead on the street.

Sedan-chairs were then in vogue, and the principal chair-stand was in St. James's street. The brawny chairmen at this stand were long objects of desire to the gang, and at last a grand razzia was made upon them. The chairmen fought like heroes, repulsed the gang, and drove them down the street to the very gate of St. James's Palace There the tide of war ebbed the palace-guard was called out, and thus reinforced, the gang returned to the fray. Lives were taken, and fearful wounds inflicted on both sides; yet, after all, only three badly wounded chairmen were captured and , carried off to serve his most gracious majesty.

Besides its legitimate duty of providing seamen and soldiers for the service of the state, the press-gang was by no means unfrequently employed to suit private purposes. By its friendly aid, a rival in love or business, an adverse witness, or importunate creditor, any individual, in fact, whose presence was obnoxious or undesirable, could readily be put out of the way, if not for ever, as was most probable, at all events for a considerable period. Even wives managed to get rid of their husbands by this summary process of divorce; and, in the very year we refer to, a daughter procured the impressment of her father, to the end that she might uncontrolledly dissipate his hard-earned savings in vicious

indulgences.

To be sure, where men were concerned, the chances were equal: Nokes could bribe the gang to waylay and press Stiles, just as Stiles might perform the same good turn for Nokes; but as women were not liable to impressment, it may be imagined that the advantage lay on their side. No such thing, however; though women could not be pressed, still they could be got rid of in another manner-consigned to a more dreadful fate. The private madhouses of the period were a thousand times worse than the holds of the press-tenders, worse even than the floating Pandemonium ships-of-war then were. The evidence given before the parliamentary committee that inquired into the state of private madhouses in 1762, is a heart-sickening disclosure of human wickedness and helpless misery; and the committee, in their report, state that the avarice of the keepers, who were under no other control than their own consciences, led them to assist in the most nefarious plans for confining sane persons, whose relations or guardians, impelled by the same motive or private vengeance, sometimes forgot all the restraints of nature, and immured them in the horrors of a prison, under a charge of insanity.'

Four of the thief-makers' already alluded to were tried and convicted, at the Old Bailey sessions, in March 1756, for conspiring to prosecute an innocent lad to death, on a false charge of robbery, so that they might obtain the reward, or blood-money, as it was then termed, amounting to L.140. Part of their sentence was to stand in the pillory, and, accordingly, two of them were pilloried in Holborn. A newspaper informs us that such a multitude of people were never known to be collected on a like occasion. A woman was terribly gored by a bullock, and almost trod to death by the mob; a painter's man was pushed out of a cart, had his skull fractured, and was taken up insensible; several people were run over and hurt, and much mischief done. Two pickpockets, being detected at the end of Fetter Lane, were so severely disciplined by the populace, that they were scarcely able to crawl away.' The two wretches in the pillory were pelted with stones, brickbats, and oystershells; and when released at the expiration of an hour-the period of their sentence-they were found to be speechless and insensible, but subsequently recovered. Three days after, the other two were pilloried in Smithfield. So briskly were they pelted, that when half an hour had elapsed, the mob, perceiving that one of the two was dead, forbore to throw any more at them. Neither was released, however, until the hour had expired, when the survivor was found to be fearfully mangled, but still breathing.

Such continual scenes of violence were not without their natural fruits-all grades in society were demoralized, and an utter recklessness prevailed in regard to human life. Three captains

The class we now term the people was not in existence in those days, but there was, as Sir John Fielding tells us, 'the rabble, very insolent and abusive, and that sometimes without the least appearance of a cause.' The astute magistrate adds, for the benefit of strangers: When this happens, it is always prudent to retire, and give them their way.'

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in the army, who were recruiting at Gravese id. wished to visit the theatre at Greenwich; for this purpose, they hired two post-chaises, and set off on their journey. The officers, afraid of being too late for the performance, kept urging the postboys to drive faster than the horses really could go. On this account, an altercation ensued, and one of the captains, drawing his sword, ran a postboy through the body, and even cut It would be a waste of time to pursue the suband hacked at the dying man as he lay helplessly | ject further. Our improvement has been great bleeding on the ground. The other postboy-much greater, probably, than the imagination would have shared the same fate, had not a labor- can readily realise. There has been no retrogreser, who happened to be repairing a hedge by the sion; the march has ever been onward. Lookroadside, rushed forward, and with his hedge-billing out, as we write, into the clear wintry twiheld the captains at bay. At this juncture, a light, over a wide reach of the Thames, as it sturdy butcher came up, and the officers were sweeps past the lofty elms and old ivy-covered disarmed, and made prisoners. A coroner's in-houses of a river-side Mall, we can see the tide quest brought in a verdict of wilful murder swiftly ebbing downwards in the centre of the against the three. They were committed to stream; while a counter-eddy, on each side of Maidstone jail, and in due time tried; two were the river, slowly flows in a contrary direction, acquitted; the third, who had stabbed the post- till it is absorbed and carried away by the main boy, was condemned and executed. central current. So it is in the great stream of human progress-the very speed and impetus of its central current causes lateral eddies, seemingly flowing backwards, but in reality forming an integral part of one great onward movement.

Another instance of reckless disregard of human life, to say nothing of the destruction of valuable property, occurred about the same time. The good ship Virginia Merchant arrived at Bristol with a valuable cargo, consisting of 400 hogsheads of tobacco, and other colonial produce. The tender sent a boat to press, but the homeward-bound crew resisting, compelled the gang to sheer off. The tender then opened fire with her great guns on the unfortunate Virginia Merchant, and in a short time, not only killed several of her crew, but sank her, tobacco and all, to the bottom of the Severn. Probably it is of the same tender we read the following sadly suggestive paragraph: The mother of one of the two young gentlewomen who were forcibly taken on board the tender at Bristol, and kept there two days, has since went deranged.'

Closing; then, the dreary records of the past, let us cheerfully and confidently look forward to the future; and, remembering the poet's injunction with regard to the treatment of a guest, let us also.

Welcome the coming, speed the parting year.
Chambers's Journal.

BAYARD TAYLOR IN NORTHERN EUROPE. (Concluded from page 94.)

We had bad luck with horses this day, however, two or three travellers having been in advance and had the pick. On one stage our baggage sled was driven by a poika of not more than ten years old-a darling fellow, with a face as round, fresh and sweet as a damask rose, the bluest of eyes and a cloud of silky golden hair. His successor was a tall lazy lout, who stopped so frequeutly to talk with the drivers of sleds behind us that we lost all patience, drove past and pushed ahead in the darkness, trusting our horse to find the way. His horse followed, leaving him in the lurch, and we gave him a long-winded chase astern before we allowed him to overtake us. This so exasperated him that we had no trouble the rest of the way. Mem.If you wish to travel with speed, make your postillion angry.

At a period when man had so little mercy for his fellow, we cannot suppose that he had any for the brute creation; and we accordingly find bear and bull baiting, with cock-fighting, to have been the favorite amusements of all classes. Yet there were still more gross and inexcusable cruelties committed on the lower animals, without the excitement of contest or gambling, merely to afford a fiendish pleasure to the perpetrators. Who can look on Hogarth's Six Stages of Cruelty, without shuddering? yet such were then the common spectacles of the public streets. Hogarth, as amiable in feeling as admirable in art, says that these priuts were engraved with the hope of in some degree correcting that barbarous At Hornas they gave us a supper of ale and treatment of animals, the very sight of which cold pig's-feet, admirable beds, and were only renders the streets of our metropolis so distres-deficient in the matter of water for washing. sing to every feeling mind.' And he subsequently added: 'If they have had this effect, and checked the progress of cruelty, I am more proud of having been the author, than I should of having painted Raphael's cartoons.'

We awoke with headaches, on account of gas from the tight Russian stove. The temperature, at starting, was 229 below zero-colder than either of us had ever before known. We were a litle curious, at first, to know how we should

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ing. About an inch had fallen during the night, and the mercury had risen to 6° below zero. We drove along in the dusky half-twilight toward Angesjo, over low, broad hills, covered with forests of stunted birch and fir. The scenery continued the same, and there is no use in repeating the description, except to say that the land became more cold and barren, and there seemed to be few things cultivated except flax, barley and potatoes. Still the same ridges sweeping down to the Gulf, on one hand, the same frozen bays and inlets on the other, and villages at intervals of eight or ten miles, each with its great solid church, low red belfry and deserted encampment

endure it, but to our delight, we found ourselves quite warm and comfortable. The air was still, dry, and delicious to inhale. My nose occasionally required friction, and my beard and moustache became a solid mass of ice, frozen together so that I could scarcely open my mouth, and firmly fastened to my collar. We traveled 49 miles, and were twelve hours on the way, yet felt no inconvenience from the temperature. This travel is almost wholly a journey by night, dawn and twilight, for full day there is none. The sun rises at ten and sets at two. We skim along, over the black, fir-clothed hills, and across the pleasant little valleys, in the long, gray, slowly-gathering daybreak: then, heavy snow- of red frame stables. Before reaching the secclouds hide half the brief day, and the long, long, dusky evening glow settles into night. The sleighing is superb, the snow pure as ivory, hard as marble, and beautifully crisp and smooth. Our sleds glide over it without effort, the runners making music as they go. With every day the country grows wilder, blacker and more rugged, with no change in the general character of the scenery. In the afternoon we passed the frontier of Norrland, and entered the province of West Bothnia, or Umeaa Lappmark, as it was formerly called. There are fewer horses at the stations, as we go north, but also fewer travellers, and we are not often detained. Thus far, we have had no difficulty: my scanty stock of Swedish goes a great way, and I begin to understand with more facility even the broad Norrland dialect.

The people of this region are noble specimens of the physical man-tall, broad-shouldered, large-limbed, ruddy and powerful; and they are mated with women who, I venture to say, do not even suspect the existence of a nervous system. The natural consequences of such health are morality and honesty-to say nothing of the quantities of rosy and robust children which bless every household. If health and virtue cannot secure happiness, nothing can, and these Norrlanders appear to be a thoroughly happy and contented race. We had occasional reason to complain of their slowness; but, then, why should they be fast? It is rather we who should moderate our speed. Braisted, however, does not accept such a philosophy. "Charles XII. was the boy to manage the Swedes," said he to me, the other day; he always kept them in a hur

ry."

We reached Lefwar in Lappmark last night in good condition, notwithstanding the 22° below, and felt much colder in the house, after stripping off our furs, than out of doors with them on. They gave us a supper consisting of smorgaas ("butter-goose")-the Swedish prelude to a meal, consisting usually of bread, butter, pickled anchovies, and salmon-roes flavored with garlic,) Bausages, potatoes and milk, and made for us sumptuous beds of the snowiest and sweetest inen. When we rose this morning it was snow

ond station we looked from a wooded height over the open expanse of the Gulf-a plain of snowcovered ice, stretching castward as far as the eye could reach.

The day gradually became still and cold, until the temperature reached-22° again, and we became comfortable in the same proportion. The afternoon twilight, splendid with its hues of amber, rose and saffron, died away so gradually that it seemed scarcely to fade at all, lighting our path for at least three hours after sunset. Our postillions were all boys-ruddy, hardy young fellows of fourteen or fifteen, who drove well and sang incessantly, in spite of the cold. They talked much with us, but to little purpose, as I found it very difficult to understand the humming dialect they spoke. Each, as he received his drickpenningar (drink-money, or gratuity,) at the end of the station, expressed his thanks by shaking hands with us. This is a universal custo n throughout the north of Sweden: it is a part of the simple, natural habits of the people; and though it seemed rather odd at first to be shaking hands with everybody, from the landlord down to the cook and hostler, we have come to take it as a matter of course. The frank, unaffected way in which the hand is offered, oftener makes the custom a pleasant one.

At Stocksjö we decided to push on to this place, instead of stopping for the night at Umeaa, and took our horses accordingly. The direct road, however, was unused on account of the drifts, so we went around through Umeaa after all. We had nearly a Swedish mile, and it was just dark when we descended the Umeaa river, across whose solid surface we drove, and up a steep bank into the town. We stopped a few moments in the little public square, which was crowded with people, many of whom had already commenced their Christmas sprees. The shops were lighted, and the little town looked very gay and lively. Passing through, we kept down the left bank of the river for a little distance, and then struck into the woods. It was night by this time; all at once the boy stopped, mounted a snow-bank, whirled around three or four times, and said something to me which I could

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not understand. "What's the matter?" I asked; "is not this the road to Innertafle ?" "I don't know-I think not," he said. "Don't you know the way then?" I asked again. "No!" he yelled in reply, whirled around several times more, and then drove on. Presently we overtook a pedestrian, to whom he turned for advice, and who willingly acted as guide for the sake of a ride. Away we went again, but the snow was so spotless that it was impossible to see the track. Braisted and I ran upon a snowbank, were overturned and dragged some little distance, but we righted ourselves again, and soon afterward arrived here.

In this little inn the guest's room lies behind the large family kitchen, through which we are obliged to pass. We were seized with a shivering fit on stripping off our furs, and have scarcely been able to get warm again. This was followed by such intense drowsiness that we were obliged to lie down and sleep an hour before supper. Since the cold weather has set in, we are attacked with this drowsy fit every day, toward evening, and are obliged to take turns in arousing and stimulating each other. This we generally accomplish by singing "From Greenland's icy mountains," and other appropriate melodies. We are attended here by a tall landlady, a staid, quiet, almost grim person, who pays deliberate heed to our wants. After waiting more than two hours, she has furnished us with a supper consisting of some kind of fresh fish, with a sauce composed of milk, sugar and onions, followed by gröngrött, a warm mush of mixed rice and barley, eaten with milk. Such is our fare on this Christmas Eve, but hunger is the best sauce, and we have eaten such quantities that I have not dared to go to bed, and so employ the hours of preliminary digestion in recording our adventures thus far. But the room is large and cold; I am still shivering and drowsy; the pen drops from my hand-or will drop, after tracing the letters.

For Friends' Intelligencer.

B. T.

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language.
BRYANT.

Men have been touched from immemorial time
With nature's speaking beauty, and have strove
To give depicted forth in song the forms
Of grandeur and perfection, which have thrown
All perfect beauty o'er this varied earth.
And yet, methinks, the portraiture of words
Shows cold and faint the outlines of the charms
It dimly shadows forth, and painteth not
That breathing loveliness which seems to give
A spirit and a feeling to the forms,

The great original wears. The soul was framed
With these in unison, still answering back.
Unto their changes, and it findeth there
The symboled form of every joy and grief,
Which lights or clouds its own vast world within.
Oh! when the wearied spirit yearns for rest

Of loneliness which makes the crowded hall
A desert wild, and sad it feels that none
Can understand nor touch with skilful hand
Those silent strings all waiting in the heart
To give glad music out, how sweeet at times,
Midst breaking morn, or shadowy eve, or scenes
In mid-day brightness spread, those harmonies
Untold are felt, which gently calming down
Commotions wild, deep through the senses sink
Into the soul, and with a master touch
Resistless ope its fast closed doors, and all
Its chambers fill with ministers of joy.
A deeper, stronger voice comes forth for thee,
Thou who hast made ambition's star thy guide,
Oh! baffled grasper for the prize of bliss-
And toiled to fix thy name on high, where fame
Should catch the sight, and with the sounding trump
Confide the charge to echo's clamorous tongues
Thine early shields are left behind, and far
To ring it far and wide: Oh! one by one
O'er dreary wilds thy feet have strayed, since thou
Hast cast that pure simplicity away,
Which, like an undimmed mirror, kept thy heart,
And beamed in beauty from thine open brow,
E'er thou hadst bowed to cold dissembling wiles
And bartered peace to win an empty name :
Yet when thy spirit in its sorrow feels
That all is vanity and sighs to find
Some anchoring hold its tossings wild to stay,
The sweet appeal graved on the bending sky
In lines of golden light, and touching calls
From the beseeching birds and flowers, may reach
Thy heart and bid it turn once more unto
The crystal fount of innocence and truth,
Whose healing streams, poured o'er its desert wastes,
Shall make them green again.

Reader, whoe'er
Thou art, whether with cares and woes of earth
Thou strugglest hard and long, or gladness fills
Thy heart, and from thy brow comes leaping forth-
Whether unnumbered changes on thy name
Are rung, or none, save those who bless it, hear
The sound; whate'er within a chequered world
Thy lot may be, thy dearest hopes are bound
With mine, and warm, from midst these solemn woods,
Where on the chastened air Tranquility
Seems resting tangibly, and Peace keeps guard,
As if to turn each feverish hope and fear
Away, my heart goes forth to thee, and bids
Thee come, where casting off, as sullied robes,
The trammelling claims which press thy free, pure

thoughts

In bondage down, thy franchised powers may hail
Their kindred with divinity, and trace

The lofty purposes engraved upon

Thy being. Though the glorious thoughts which burst
At times extatic round thy soul, batbing

Thy pathway in the hues of light, thrilling
Thy spirit with their perfect blessedness,-
Have sunk, like lightning flashes in the gloom

Of midnight clouds ;-though o'er thy tortured breast
Fierce passion sweeps unchained, yet, deep below,
Electric Hope, and Love's sweet harmonies
Are slumbering still, and when their silent depths
Congenial touches reach, with swift response
Kindling they rise, and glow like rainbow signs
Above the sinking storm. The grave may fling
Its shadowing gloom dark o'er thy cherished joys;
The fondly loved! the trusted props on whom
Thy heart has leaned, amidst their bounding hopes
Which joyfully sprang to break the seals of life
And all their priceless sympathies, and wealth
Of thought, perchance have sunk, and thou hast seen
Those beaming eyes whose last sweet glance was
turned

The bustling throng has not,-when comes that sense With love unspeakable on thee, close up

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