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Is it that a more severe vengeance may at last be exacted by the increasing colored outnumbering the uncolored popula

Is another Touissant, more pale-faced than the first, the descendant of a Washington, or inheriting in his mixed blood the spirit of a Jefferson, to vindicate the rights of his race? Or, before this arrives, are the white lords of the South to become at last weary of the meddling benevolence and interfering humanity of the North, and letting loose their hordes of desperate and unemployed poor, to overrun and subdue the less prepared, and less unanimous, if not less brave regions from whence slavery is excluded, and beside the early cradle of American liberty, trample it to death in its early manhood?"

Other forms of retribution are conjured up by the writer, which we are compelled to omit. It is sufficient to say, that he dwells on them with a degree of secret exultation peculiarly becoming in an advocate of the happiness of the entire human race. In conclusion, he makes a declaration that must strike terror into our inmost hearts. Hear it and tremble, O! ye reprobate Republicans! ye hypocrites! ye "two-legged wolves and atrabilious tyrants!" "None of our British parties," he says, "can really sympathize with either of the leading parties in the United States." What a terrible annunciation for our disconsolate Whigs, already reduced to the last extremity! What will they, what can they do in future, without that British sympathy and support, which has hitherto sustained them in all their trials? They have not, with the exception of the great apostle of the "higher law," and his disciples, come up to the exalted standard of British philanthropy, and thus forfeited all title to British sympathy or British support; if John Bull or Christopher North should inhumanly persevere in this indifference, we confidently predict that the Whig party is done for ever. Nay, we are not without serious apprehensions that it will be all over with the Republic, since we do not see how it can exist, without the paternal care of Christopher to teach us the duties of philanthropy, and the indispensable exertions of the London Times to instruct us in the law of nations. Nothing, we fear, can save us but abolition and amalgamation.

We have, as previously hinted, omitted the examination of very many charges in this indictment, not because they were not susceptible of refutation, but because it would require a volume of no inconsiderable size to discuss them, as they ought to be discussed, on great general principles. The deductions so confidently made from Uncle Tom's Cabin, and other anon

ymous fictions, on which the author has relied for most of his materials, are not only not susceptible of such refutation, but unworthy of the labor it would require were it possible. But there is one most important statement based on documentary evidence, which we shall especially notice firstly on the ground of its being, as pretended, drawn from official sources, and secondly, for the purpose of showing what dependence can be placed on his statements, from whatever source they may be derived.

"A knowledge of this state of things," he says, "explains why there is so large a number of restless men in these Southern States, ready for every emergency, and panting after an outlet, just or unjust, for the exercise of their festering energies. It explains also what at first sight is very inexplicable on this side the Atlantic, that the whole free population of the slave States is actually decreasing instead of increasing, as we are in the habit of believing to be the case all over the Union. Thus in the two censuses of 1840 and 1850, the total free population in the free and slave States respectively, were as follows:

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"So that while in the last ten years the population of the free States has increased by nearly four millions, that of the slave States, though Texas has been added to these in the interval, has diminished nine hundred thousand." For this statement, he quotes one of his "infallible oracles," "The American (abolition) Almanac."

Let us now refer to the last census, an official report or summary of which accompanies the late message of the President to Congress, and which establishes the following facts:

That between the years 1840 and 1850 the population of the slaveholding States increased from 6,742,585 to 8,715,148; and that the ratio of increase, in what has been called the "coast-planting States"-all slaveholding States-during that time was 33.80 per cent., and that in the "central" slaveholding States it was 26.53 per cent. During this period the ratio of increase in New England was 22.7 per cent., and in the Middle States, 29.72 per cent. The average increase of slaves during the same period was, according to the same official statement, 23.8 per cent. From this it appears perfectly evident that the average increase of free white inhabitants of the Southern States is greater than in New England 21

VOL. I.-NO. IV.

and the Middle States, where no African slaves exist, and that the ratio of this increase is greater among the whites than the blacks. We presume this specimen of the accuracy of this writer will be quite sufficient without any further exposure. He had better stick to Uncle Tom's Cabin and the other anonymous romances as his authorities, because for reasons heretofore given their statements, though ever so false or exaggerated, cannot be confuted by documentary evidence, nor in any way except by a positive denial.

As to the "large number of restless men" in the slaveholding States, every body knows there is more emigration from New England alone than from all the Southern States put together; and as to accessions from foreign immigration, it is equally notorious that a very small portion find their way to the "coast-planting," and. comparatively few to the "central" slaveholding, States, so that their increase must be, in a great measure, independent of those causes, which we learn from the census, have added several millions to the population of the Northern and Western States.

One word to the writer of this article before concluding. If a Scotchman, we recommend him to turn his attention and devote the superfluity of his philanthropy to objects nearer home. Let him turn his attention to the abject and miserable condition of the manufacturing laborers of Glasgow, as set forth in the various reports of committees appointed for that purpose; or let him make a pilgrimage to the Highlands of Scotland, where, it was lately stated in British papers, the people were suffering the extreme of want, and some of them actually perishing for lack of food. Or let him look towards his neighbors in Ireland, fleeing by millions to this doomed country from oppression and starvation. How dares any British man or British woman, noble or ignoble, to affect such deep sympathy for the wrongs of one race, while millions of their own race, their countrymen, neighbors, and dependents, should become at least the residuary legatees of their overflowing charity? Do they believe that the people of the United States, nay, of the world, are so blind as not to see through this flimsy veil of hypocrisy, and detect that mingled feeling of antipathy and apprehension, that combination of jealousy and fear, which with such unparalleled effrontery stalks forth under the mask of sympathy for the wrongs of Africa? Let them look at home. Let them pry into the dens of misery and vice at their very doors. Let them devote some of their superabundant

* See letters of Donald McLeod, lately published in the New York Herald.

wealth and superabundant charity to the alleviation of poverty at home, instead of crusading abroad in the distant regions of the world, with hypocrisy in their mouths and hearts, and the sword and bayonet in their hands. Then, when they can find no food for their charity at home, there may be some shadow of excuse for their impertinent interference with the internal affairs of the United States, and their denunciations of a country where there is more happiness and less misery than in any other under the sun.

But we do not ascribe this article to a foreign pen. We are convinced from the internal evidence it carries with it, that it is the product of the condensed version of an American abolitionist. In speaking of the United States, the phraseology in many places is precisely that of a native, and the appeal to sectional feelings and jealousies is too adroitly made to come from any but an American. Defective and erroneous as we have shown his information with regard to his statistics, he yet employs a smattering of knowledge with respect to the early history of the confederation, and especially as to the springs to be touched in order best to awaken or aggravate sectional jealousies seldom exhibited by the ignorant writers who take such a deep interest in our present and future welfare. We have scarcely a doubt that this is the very article copyrighted, as written in this country in order to secure the work from being printed by the American publishers. It is the only article in the number of the Magazine in which it appears, that can be ascribed to an American pen with the slightest appearance of probability. We think we know the man, but not with sufficient certainty to justify us in holding him up to the contempt and scorn he merits for thus becoming an instrument for calumniating his country and countrymen in a foreign and hostile journal.

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A GREAT DRUG STORE.

"Poetry's a drug."

WALK in !—survey the druggist's store,
Its boxed and bottled wonders,
Sealed bags condensing ocean's roar,
And concentrated thunders.

These lucifers--are passion's lights,
Than powder more explosive;
That caustic proves to petty spites
And upstart pride corrosive.

That opiate can soothe the mind,
When doubts or terrors rack it;
And where is tonic more refined
Than rests upon yon bracket?

Love philters, too, the eye may view,
For wounded hearts, cool plasters;
Exhausted brains we here renew
By draughts of ancient masters.

Within this nutshell, marked in Greek,
Old HOMER'S Iliad resting,
Preserves the power we vainly seek,
By wasteful word-investing.

All men that mighty drug have proved
Three thousand years or nearly,
And still its stimulus is loved,
Its flavor cherished dearly.

Here JOB's elixir, shrined in gold,
Unmanly grief's sedative;
Through Christendom, the drug is sold,
To every country's native.

And next stern ÆSCHYLUS, our list
With rocky fragments graces,
Promethean fire in freedom's fist,
He now as then replaces.

The rebel's cordial he gave,
And since he seething gave it,

A thousand rocks have seen men brave
Jove's ire, and proudly brave it!

Here SAPPHO's burning poison stands
An antidote ill chosen,

To passions, that in icy bands
Of selfish scorn are frozen.

And here is old ANACREON's wine,
The cure for dismal vapors,
And sparkling HORACE balsam fine
When bored by daily papers.

BOOKSELLER'S MOTTO.

LUCRETIUS here-the very stuff
To set a dull man thinking;
And here CATULLUS, brisk enough
To set a duller drinking.

Then DANTE's black infernal draught,
A Lethe to the spirit,

Whence souls that yet have idly laughed
Dark thoughts and deep inherit.

And gentle PETRARCH's gilded pills
With love of beauty laden,
Whose perfume all the senses fills
With visioned dreams of Aden.

And Tasso's mixture to be ta'en
In full heroic measure,

And ARIOSTO's purge for pain,
A rare and spicy treasure.

Next MARLOW's quaint conceits, which few
Now care to take or pay for,
Whose FAUSTUS Germanized we view,
Whose art, art's king made way for.

WILL. SHAKSPEARE's universal dose,
By which all ills are treated,
Which can each moral pore unclose,
Dose day by day repeated.

And CALDERON's refreshing fount,
On which, our souls delighted,
In pleasant airy circles mount,
"Twixt dream and fact, benighted.

And MILTON, (rival of the Greeks
Who sang Troy, sang the Titan,)
In whose strong medicine one seeks
The fires that burn yet brighten.

POPE'S acid, GOLDSMITH's fragrant oil;
VOLTAIRE's mercurials skeptic,
To cure the philosophic moil,
And clear out souls dyspeptic.

Next GOETHE stands, in fifty vials,
With recipes for all things,
Unwearied chemist in his trials,
Sublime in great and small things!

And SCHILLER's waters, sweet and pure,
Yet with a gaseous bubbling,
For mean and evil thoughts a cure,
Half soothing, while half troubling.

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