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M PDBUSHED BY WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH. ATHau aBaTmAI.BOW,K*BXFOBD, ooim. T E R M S . Two DoLumi « » Amnw-^roin which Fifty CenU will be deducted if paid strictlr in adranoe. Two doUan to City Snfaccriben, who receive the «i4>cr by the Cairier. Single copies, FODB CENTS. No difference will be paid upon F^zchanges, Daily or Weekly. No paper discontinued till all aTreatagea are paid, ttcept at the option of the Publisher. All Leuers and Communications must be ad-dresfed to the Publisher, tt? Pott Paid. Cori'spondentt will be permitted to speak their own seni'-ments (however widely differing from ours) upon their own responsibility—on these conditions, that they outiage neither decency, good English, nor i;ood taste, and give their names to the Publisher. Tliis last we requir* for our own satisfaction—^not br the public. ' TERMS OF ADVERTISING. AOVEBTISEMENTS will be inserted at the follow-ing rates: For one square, or 20 lines, three weeks, SI 00 ** Continuance each insertion, • 20 " Ten lines or half square, three weeks, 63 * Continuance eacn insertion, 10 *• One sauare a year, - - 10 00 ** OB square a year with privilege of changing once in three weeks. 12 00 AN ANTI-SLAVERY EDITED VR W. H. AHDO. 8 . B U B L S I 6 H . ' FAM] LY NEWSPAPER. The ChaMm Oak, wodU aem BMk bgr wear-ing the CHAKTMB or n s BioaTs bom tia gnsp of Tynimy. It ia « Fiee Paper,—aet diaietea a channel far aD bdbBl»-bat what it WoM imy, it wiUaayfreely. b will staadia defanae of aU r i ^ however lowfy and down-tradden, and tJi(aw rebuke into the face of all wnmg, wnether in pmple and broadcloth, or in rags and si]^^. Tet, thoo^ it amites the sin, it will not hate the linner. It will be chiefly devoted to the cause of LIBBBTT, ad-vocating independent poUticai action against Slave-ry, but it will wear the collar of oo Patty. It will aim to make whole, not demolish Govenoment,—to Wrest its sceptre from the bimds of oppiesaon, not to break it. It would not pot a fire-brand to Churck and State, to purify them,—but spare the temples while it touts the vermin that are thronging them. LiTERATtTBE, of a hearty, manly sort, will have its place here, with all that tends toward human eleva-tion. We shall seek not to divorce the spirit of Pro-gress from the sense of Beauty—but rather aim to wed Refinement to Reform—not forgetting, however, to use the scourge when high-handed wickedness shall demand iL Passing Events and fixed Princi-ples, the transient News, and the eternal Laws, shall find a record in our Paper; and everything which honest endeavor, good will and some experience can do, will be attempted, to make it welcome to its friends, a blessing to Humani^, and to ourselves a means of an honeMlivelihood. NEAV SERIES. HARTFORD, -CONN, THURSDAY, JULY 22, 1847. 0atur&ag €t)cumg. ~ CHR1STI.\N EDLC.\T10N. 1. A tcise dtsciplitie is essential to a christian education. In vain will yuu hope to lead j'our children in the ways of piely if y<tu do not Ijegin while they are yet j'oung to exercise over them a strict but uliectionaie discipline ; if jou do not teach them, from the very cradle, that inf-tead of acting according to their own wayward fancies, they are to he regulated by their parents, and the will of God. Give the reins to their inclination, sutler them to act as they please, let them have no other restraint than their own wishes and desires, and they are in the direct road to vice, misery, and perdition ; they will perhaps live to curse that weak fondness which strengthened vicious habits, and plunged them into guilt; to execrate those criminal compliances which have laid the founda-tion of their unhappiness, by cherishing furious passions, and incapacitating them to bear with disappointment. Govern them with a firm and steady hand. Begin to bend the twig while it is yet flexible; in« few years it will become a sturdy oak, and resist all j-our efforts. The vicious pro-pi'nsities of children, the fruit of their orig-inal corru|)tion, are early to be discerned. On their first appearance, endeavor to ex-tirpate them, and exercise your authority to prevent the formation ofcriminal habits. Keep a watch over their tongues. Oo not, like so many injudicious parents, encour-age lying or ill-nature,b}' smiling at a false or malignant expression, if it have some degree of smartness. Do not nourish their pride by expressive commendation and flattery, by loading them with pageantry and gorgeous ornaments. Do not cultivate their revenge by teaching or suffering them to direct their feeble j'et malicious strokes against the persons or things that have injured them. Do not inspire a re-lentless and tyrannical disposition, by per-mitting them to torture various species of animals. Do not encourage a worldly spirit, by continually proposing the riches or honors of earth as the recompense they may expect fijr their goodness, while the favor of God is scarcely ever mentioned as an object worthy to be aspired after.— Do not suffer them to l)e exposed to un-necessary temptations, which, while their judgment is immature, and their reason without the aids of experience, will al-most invariably plunge them into sin. But on the contrary, by a steady exercise of discipline, accustom them to the utmost sincerity, justice,and benevolence, in their intercourse with their companions. Hab-ituate theni to control their passions and wishes. Accustom them to value time, and flee from indolence, that canker of virtue and destroyer of the soul. Teach them to be modest, to be humble, and ex-emplary in their deportment; to reverence the ordinances and institutions of religion ; and to pray constantly to their Heavenly Father. Thus strive, by an uninterrup-ted course of discipline, to implant virtu-ous habits, to prevent Satan from gaining new authority in their souls, and to regu-late their outward conduct; and you have great ground to hope that whilst you are thus emplo\'ed, God will shed down his Holy Spirit to bless j-our exertions, and to change the hearts of your offspring. When I speak of the necessity of dis-cipline, I atn not recommending an inhu-man severity. This will 'provoke them to wrath,' and irritate instead of reforming them. Let your government be like that of your Father in Heaven; mild, gentle, affectionate springing from lo^e and ex-ercised in mercy; yet not weakly withhol-ding reproof and chastisement when they are necessary. In inflicting this punish-ment, however, be careful to make your children feel that you do it in the natne of God, from a hatred of sin, and for their good. Be firm, but not furious—let your eye melt with sorrow, but not sparkle with rage—let your tongue express your regret and pity, but not pour out bitter and pas-sionate reproaches. If your children per-ceive that you are influenced by passion, and not by reason and religion, your au- - thority will become odious or contempt-ible. • I.,et your discipline be just and equal; make no inviduous distinctions between your children ; indulge no partial affection for one child in preference to another equally deserving. Let punishment be proportioned to faults; punish those sins that are immediately against God more severely than those that are against you. Let wilful and habitual vices be trented with greater severity than those that are more unintentional and rare. Preserve this family justice, or your punishments will harden instead of amending your ' children. Finally, study carefully the tempers of your children, and diversifyyour discipline according to the diversity of their tempers. Let it be more mild or rigorous, according as the gentleness or stubbornness of their dispositions requires one or the other of these modes of treatment. VICTORIOUS FAITH. Fight the good fight of f a i t h b r e ak throi^h all temptations dejections, wan-derings, worldly thoughts—^through all un-profitable companionB, and the i^kward. ness of an vmSelieving heart and carnal | itiind : struggle, I sa}', till you touch Jesus, j and feel healing virtue proceeding from i him; and when you know clearly the way ! to hitn, repeat the touch till he lives in you ,' by the power of his loving Spirit. Then j you will say with fct. Paul, "1 live the life of God, yet not I, but Christ who livelh in ine." 1 rejoice that you inquire where Christ maketh his flock to rest at noon : the rest from the guilt and power of sin ^ you will find only in inward holiness. And i this, I apprehend to consist in what St. | Paul calls, " the kingdom of G o d r i g h t - eousness, which excludes all guilt; peace, 1!t-hich banishes all fear that hath torment; and joy, which can no more subsist with doubts, anxiet^^, and unstableness of mind, than lightcan subsist with darkness. That there is a state wherein this kingdom isset up, firmly set up in the heart, you may oee from our Lord's sermon on the mount; by his priestly prayer in St. John; by the epistles of that Apostle, and by various parts of the epistles of St. Paul and St. James. To aim aright at this liberty of children of God, requires a continual act-ing of faith; of a naked faith, independent of all feelings, in a naked promise ; such as, The Son of God was manifested to destroy the works of the devil;" "lean do all things through Christ, who strength-eneth me." By a naked faith in a naked promise, I do not mean a bare assent that God is faithful, and that such a promise in . the book of God may be fulfilled to me ; ' but a bold, hearty, steady ventunng ofmy " soul, body and spirit upon the truth of the promise, with an appropriating act: '* It is mine, because I am a sinner, and determin- ! ed to believe, come what will." Here you ' must shut the eye of carnal reason, and stop the ear of the mind to the reasonings of the serpent; which, were you to listen to him, would be endless, and would soon draw you out of the simple way of faith, by which we are both justified and sancti- ! fied. You must also remember that it is i your privilege to go to Christ by such a faith now, and every succeeding moment; and that you are to bring Clothing but a careless, distracted, tossed, hardened heart; just such a one as you have now. Here lies the grand mistake of many poor, miserable, but precious, souls: they are afraid to believe, lest it should be presump-tion ; Iwcause they have not comfort, joy, love, &c.; not considering that this is to look for the fruit before the tree is planted. Beware, then, of looking for any grace previous to believing.—Fletcher. ©rigitial ^rlicU0e For the Charter Oali. NOTESOFFOREIGNTRAVEL. NUMBER XVIII. ORLEANS TO LYONS. The high road to Lyons leaves Orleans by the bridge built to replace that which was the scene of the triumph of Jeanne d'Arc. The old bridge was a little high-er up the river, and nothing remains of it, except the basement of the tower which formed the tete du pont on the southern shore, and around which the hardest of the fighting took place. Indeed, there is scat cely anything left in Orleans or its vicinity, to interest the lover of historical monuments or ruins. The Orleanois are as bad as the Yankees. They are infected with an irrepressible disposition to pull down and build up again—they say for improvement, and heaven knows their city needs that enough, but I am compelled to believe that very little im-provement indeed,has been effected, while a multitude of most deeply interesting things have been destroyed. On the south side of the Loire the snow had begun to melt, and I was even glad to see heavy roads which gave the promise of milder weather. Dilligence-riding is at all times sufficiently weari-some and uninteresting, but when cold, stormy weather, and a country stripped of verdure and covered with snow are ad-ded to ordinary evils, the journey becomes intolerable. On this road, too, there is nothing to break the drear monotony, and one sits listening to the rumbling of the dilligence wheels, a rumbling which is like nothing else earthly, until he is out-wearied with suffering and finds relief in jolting, unquiet sleep. I do not remember taking notice of anything until we were slowly mounting the slope which leads to the village of SULLY. That name roused me,and I looked out to see what it was which had been thought worthy to bear the name of the great Minister. The village is small and straggling, and dirty enough, and the beg-gars came round the coach when we stop-ped to change horses, in a manner which indicated that the place was not much more wealthy than cleanly. The village lies upon a little rising ground upon the banks of the Loire and jutting out into the river itself, stands the the most prominent object in the village —^the c a s ^ of Sully. It was formerly a possession of the warlike and polished family of de la Tremonville, and was bought by Maximilian de Bethune, the great Duke of Sully, when he was at the height of his power as minister of Henry IV. Sully was as vain as he was great. a thing which is exceedingly likely to hap-pen to men \vho know enough to perceive how great they are. He everywhere hewed out the La Tremonville arms as the revolutionists afterwards did the Bour-bon arms, and in their place he put up his own. It is well known into what diegrace he fell under Louis XIII, but though he lost his power, he did not lose his pride. Re-tiring to this caslle, he set on foot and maintained a regiment of lancers during all his last years, and he could make al-most as much of a show in passing through the country as his lord and master. Be-sides his itching for military and courtly magnificence, Sully had quite "a strong touch of the mania of authorship, and when he was no longer actually master of the Royal Economies, he wrote a book which was the next best thing. This work entitled *Sur les Economies £oy-ales,' was printed upon a press in one of the towers of this old castle. The castle is a fine object—less milita-ry in its] appearance, perhaps, than some older buildings of the same class—but quite imposing and evidently worthy to be the residence of the great duke—than whom France has produced few greater men. It will perhaps interest the stii> dent of poetry to know that it was in this castle that Voltaire commenced the Hen-riade. The ca.stle continued in the fami-ly of Sully until 1807, when in the deca-dence of the ancient house, it passed to other hands, and is now uninhabited and falling into ruins. It was late in the afternoon, when we reached the little town of Gien. It lies on the north bank of the Loire, the slope which it covers descending rapidly to the water's edge. Over the irregular mass of buildings the fine old church of St. Etti-enne and the ancient castle now employ-ed for the more respectable purposes of a Prefecture, tower in gloomy grandeur, giving at once a bold andj pleading charac-ter to tLp picture. ' T I was S t r u c k at Gien,as I had been fur-ther down the river,with the efiiicts of the late innundation. A long causeway leads to the bridge over which we passed and above and below it the sweeping waters had left their mark upon the soil, and par-ticularly upon the trees. These, some|of them from one to three feet in diameter, were bent down level with the earth, as we sometimes see the lithe white birch, under a weight of snow. Others were snapped short a few feet above the ground, and their tops had gone down to make fu-el at Nantes. Several masses of ruins showed where cottages had stood, whose walls, composed for the most part of plas. ter, had crumbled down after the roof and the rising furniture had been swept away by the flood which rolled over all. •Quel torrent revolutionare que cette Loire,' was the expression of Carrier, the most hateful of revolutionary murderers. The river well deserves the title. No other stream is subject to such sudden and ter-rible inundations. It has been dyked since the time of the Romans, but the dykes are only high enough to furnish a proper guard against the lesser innunda-tions. When the flood reaches such a height as last autumn, it breaks over all bounds,and sweeps the country with ruin. In that case, the dykes, by preventing large bodies of water from returning to the river, and causiu^ them to stagnate, become themselves a nuisance. We changed horses close to a'little old church, on which the height attained by the wa-ter in the last innundation was marked. It must have been some twenty feet deep where we stood. It was at Gien that Jeanne d'Arc cross-ed the Loire on her way from Domremy to Chiron, where she went to announce her divine mission to King Charles. It is remarkable that she escaped the scout-ing parties of the English, who at that time were continually passing through every part of the country about Gien. But her time had not come. At the little town of Briare, some miles farther on, we stopped for dinner in the evening. The place has nearly three thousand inhabitants, but I could see no-thing of whatever there might be remark-able. The first canal which was ever dug io unite two river basins, being itself fed from the summit level, takes its name from this place. It was dug to unite the Loing at Montargis, with the Seine at St. Mamet, and it opens a water communi-cation between Paris and the centre of France. The canal was begun by Sully the great Minister, and was completed in 1642. It is not otherwise remarkable, than as being the first of its kind. A litttle farther on lay the town and castle of Sancerre, crowning an emin-ence upon the other side of the Loire, and directly opposite, on the same side with us, rose the ancient Chateau of Tracy. It was too dark to see either of them, ex-cept as their lights might dance before our eyes for a moment. The first place bears the name of one of the bravest men France ever produced, whose exploits Froissart has delighted to record. The latter place is of general interest only on account of its great antiquity. It bears over its principal portal, an inscription, stating that it was given by Charles VI of i France to Mtftisieur de Tracy, and it was evidently a military position at a much earlier period than even that of Charles VI. I was assured by Count de Laubes-pin, the present proprietor, that Roman remains were often dug up upon the es-tate. And now for a night in the diligence. Muffled up as warmly as possible, and yet suffering with the cold, making every effort to sit still in the corner, yet con-stantly jolted from side to side, wearied with haviug the feet so long in one posi-tion, and yet finding it impossible to get another, laboring to hold the head quietly in its place, yet nodding so as to put the neck in danger, trying to sleep, yet con-stantly roused from th« half formed dreams of the drowsing but sleepless man. I did long before morning, what I have no doubt every other person has done who has travelled all night in a dilligencfe. I heartily wished it at—the end of the journey. F. For the Charter Oak. A N E X P O S T U L A T I O N. BY MISS MARTOA ItUSSRLL. "She is caretl for by none on earth, and her God seenieth to have Ibrsaken her. And men point at her and laugh,and women hate her as an out-cast." Speak to her tenderly;— Turn not away! Seest how pleadingly Pallid Hps pray. Speak to her trustingly, • Now is thy time; She weareth a woman's form, Nathless her crime. Speak to herliopefully! Ah, thy sweet tone May bring to her heart Hopes that havo flown. Mamories of ofcildhood Are stirring tha^tieitrt; See that no words of thine Bid them depart. Thou, in thy innocence, Never canst know All the strong agony, Sorrow and woe. Soul-searing miserj', Heart-burning shame, That wait on the fallen,'' The blighted in name. Judge her not scorn^Uy! Thou canst not tell The power of her tempter, When weaving his spell. Ah, she was friendless, When pity withdrew. For he trampled en her; Wilt thou trample too ? Hadst thou been tempted so, Hadstthou been tried,— Alas, we might find thee, As low by her side. Oh, 'tis God's mercy Thatkeepeth from ill! Speak to her tenderly, Trust in her still. T H E C A N K E R A N D T H E C U R E. ~ Baron Thrashem was one of the very wisest and profoundest lawyers on the judicial bench; to say nothing of his ex-traordinary research amidst such ethic doctrines as relate to the origin of evil: to say nothmg that these doctrines were al-ways stated by him so precisely and logi-cally, that the muiutest link in his chain of causation never shov^ a flaw : to say nothing that he had espied the very top-most ^ugh of the goodly tree of sin; and dug down, in his own opinion, nearer to its far hidden and obscure root than any oth-er man: to say nothing of these things, he so viewed all reformatory law for crime as twaddle from the human school of phi-losophy^ that had be had his own will, and every statute and every law against the criminal should have been burnt, and re-placed by these two very tangible and summary processes for curing evil—the halter and the gibbet. Thirteen years ago this very next lent term, the baron had gone a circuit court to the north. His old clerk Rednot had gone a circuit too, and old Joe Bottle,who prided himself upon having been the judge's servant forty-two years, had taken coach that very morning to visit some country relatives. None were left in the old dull house of the old dull squire,but the mud of all work, and the cook, and the housekeeper summed up in the person of Becky; for the judge had neither a grand house, a grand equipage,—^for an old job-bing coach had taken him down to West-minister, and on circuit, for the last twen-ty years,—nor many servants ; but sim-ply a very grand library, every book in which—according to the fully unit^ opinions of Rednot, Bottle, and Becky— he knew by heart; from its first letter to its colophon; excepting certain books on a certain right hand shelf of the large book. case ; at which he had been seen to smile so satirically and so often, that they were supposed to contain opinions not worth a farthing to the great mintage of the judge's mind, but were doubtless simple, irrever-ent and untrue. Be this as it may—upon this certain morning, Becky, whose simple heart knew no bounds in its reverence and duty to her stern master, was busy in the library, when her ear was caught by the low voice of a child outside the area rails.— She had at that moment lifted up from the library table an old fashioned massive sil-ver inkstand, and turning round saw that it was a wretched, sharp-faced child, who probably attracted by her cap, as seen above the window-blinds had stopped to beg. Her kindly thoughts in a moment were travelling fast between the two pence in her pocket, and the hot roll left in the oven from Joe's breakfast, when the post-man's quick rap was heard at the hall door. It was a letter from her master, Becky was sure, and all in an anxious tremor—^for Thrashem wrote but seldom when from home, and then only on some urgent point—she hurried breathlessly to answer the door, with the duster and inkstand in her hand. Recognizing her master's stiff, straight characters on the letter, and as the postage was to pay, she, in the anxious absence of a moment, set down the duster and the inkstand on the step ; while she dived down for her purse into the hidden mysteries of her capacious pocket. The postman was leaning careless-ly on the area railing looking down the. street) and when she had stepped to him, given him the money, and come back, the inkstand was gone, the silver inkstand that the judge prized so highly ! In the first moment of doubt and astonishment she knew not what to think : but recollecting the keen faced child, who but the instant before had been in sight; she hurried from the door, and looking down the street, and calling upon the postman to follow her, she auw ohnai-uiiiuug ror>,<ua ^.iiuprcatu less speed. The postman's quick step was, however, a match : he seized upon the thief just as she had thrust the ink-stand beneath the ragged strip of shawl that hung about a girl a year or two old-er than herself. To half cry was Becky's first impulse when the inkstand was sound and safe : to tremble at the bare thought of the judge's stern displeasure, bad it been lost; to almost sink in heart at the idea of one doubt upon her long tried hon-esty, all these for the instant were para-mount;. but all sank into mere nothing-ness, or rather were merged into one feel-ing of womanly and simple mercy, when she glanced upon the child's upturned face of terror, hunger and pain. 'You continued the postman. 'Had no wittles,' spoke the child sul-lenly. These words robbed the heart of the honest servant of its touch of anger. She said something about letting the child go, but too late. A crowd had collected, a policeman had stepped in, and the thief in a few minutes was locked safe in the station house. It was a sorrowful night, that, in the compassionate heart of Becky ; though her fire was bright, her teagoc^, and even the barber from a little street hard by, had stepped in to talk the matter over with her. And she was still more sad the next day, when in her best gown she court-seyed to the magistrate of the police court, and saw the child in the dock more hag-gard and pale. The case was fully proved. 'My good woman,' spoke the magistrate in his kindest voice, 'I know your master would prosecute this case to the fullest ex-tent of the law, but to what end ? Here is a child seven years old or thereabouts without home, without one human friend, and, great apparently without a name; the scum and refuse of the city streets whilst yet a baby. If I send her to prison, she will probably come out only more confirmed in precocious wicked-ness ; or if sent back into the streets, but to stavation or something still more horri-ble—^ incipient prostitution. But were there some one to save by teaching and—' Becky, the great judge's poor servant, looked here at the magistrate, and then at the criminal child. 'Please sir,' and the sympathy of our di-vinest nature justified itself, Tve fifty-seven pounds sixteen and sixpence in the saving's bank, and that Mr. Rednot has the receipt of, and just two sovereign's more in the spice box—so if a little school-ing might—' 'Might do more than the prison, or the law can do—turn guiltless sin into good, and if with work—' 'Yes, yes,' interrupted Becky, pleased with the magistrate's manner, and inter-preting the matter in her own way : 'if she were to turn out tidy, and I could keep the matter from master's ear, why I could teach her how to roast, and bake, and set his room to rights, and— 'And if you should succeed in half, chimed in tte magistrate,'you'd show your-self to be a profounder lawyer than ei-ther I who sit upon this b ^ h , or your master, a Baron of the exchequer. He who cures vice is greater than he who punishes it.' Becky did not understand half this, only this much, that nobody could be so ^eat as the judge her master: |6 oourtseyinglesa respectful than she otherwise would have done, she waited for the child to be re-leased from the dock, threw a large silk handkerchief from her pocket across its shoulders, that it might look less like a va-grant, and then reverting back to the due disposal of the two pounds in the spice-box, she took ihe child's hand and made her way to the cab odtside the door, followed by the wondering and ejaculating barber. To wash the child well by the kitchen fire, to bake a cake for tea, to invite the barber thereunto, to reach the child a lit-tle pictured cup from the closet's topmost shelf, were matters of course with Becky; and much did she ejaculate, and more did the barber, as, between the ravenously eaten cake .and the sweetened tea, the pre-cious, willful, neglected intellect of crime told of its narrow hell of human life: which it believed was heaven 1 Long was the talk of the barber and Becky whilst the babyhood of crime, not disowned by nature, nestled to its rest: and as Mr. Bottle was of a nervous temperament, and much giv-en to count his spoons and forks, and make particular inquiries afler his mas-ter's gold spectacles, it was judged wise to keep the truth from him, at least for the present; and moreover, as the police report would be sure to appear in the 'Times' of the morrow, it would be advisa-ble, though a sad sin in the eyes of Becky, not to post that paper, as that chance might lie of the matter escaping Threshem's keen notice. "It fortunately did, beyond a mere report by word ; but in her strongest trunk Becky hoarded up that paper. It was necessary to give the child a name before Mr. Bottle came back.— The barber suggested many good ones: none, however, pleasant to the ear of Becky. But when in some few days the child's young face began to look up grace-fully into her own, the thought struck Becky, that the great oil painting over the library fireplace, was the portrait of the judge's mo^er, an4 that her Christian name liaa Alicc. <jl.,>a might it not be beautiful,' said Becky to herself, 'if she would turn out a good child, and come up to such grand things as to mend the dear master's shirt, or to cook him an ome-let as brown as 1 do ? Might it not be beautiful to hear that name he loves so well, called softly up and down the house. So giving her question an affimative an-swer, Becky called the child Alice. To say that the seven year's teaching of sin was absolved at once, would be an in-justice to the great teacher,—nature. But peculations from closets, and drawers, and jars grew less and less before the continu-al ministry of good; the memory of vice faded like a shadow in the broadening sun; and Alice, the unknown spawn of the beg-gar's lodging-house, became a favorite with old Joe, took and thrived by honest Becky's teachings, and even at last be-coming noticed by Mr. Rednot, drew upon his learning many ways. Years passed on, and Alice was seven-teen. Never had the judge seen her ;— never heard of her. He had lived forty years in that house, yet never trod his own kitchen floor. Becky grew feeble ; and the stern old man, at last noticing it, rang her up one night, into the library.— He spoke kindly, placed her in a chair, and said she must have help.— Becky's heart faltered—the secret of years was on her tongue. ' I was afraid you would be angry, but I've long been obliged to have " ' Whom V 'One who can cook your omelet beau-tifully ; set a frill on your shirt, and al-most place your room as well as I do— Alice.' The old man looked at the picture his heart grew merciful at that name. He rang again the bell, he said a word or two ; and Alice—the bud, the spawn of iniquity—the atom of the foulest city streets that society crushes, and that he, in his great wisdom, disowned all regen-eration for, save the gallows—stood be-fore him in her beauty and usefulness.— The magistrate said right, 'Nobler is it to teach good to crime, than to tread it under foot.' The heart of the poor ser-vant had solved the great enigma of so-cial wrong and social progress, in a more practical way than the wisdom of the scholar and the judge—for teach but ig-norance, and we evil diminish. That night the old man smiled less up-on these old books; he took them down; he read them; and Alice from that hour flitted around him in her useful, humble duties, and surpassed poor Becky, because she had been taught. Becky soon after this fell ill, and on her dying bed told the old man of that theft; how the pity of her heart had made her save—and Alice was the fruits! 'She, sir, who is so very good, and waits so gently on you. Be good to her—^be good to her.' •I will—and take a lesson from you, Becky, that shall make not only the law, but my own heart better.' Those great books of the great jurist are no longer smiled upon. "The retired judge will bequath his great wealth to put their spirits into action; and with Alice in her humble duties flitting round him devises plans for the better bearing out the great progress question of reformato-ry law; and no longer ending his chain of ethic causatives by the gallows, sets his hand to those great principles—that VOL. IL N0.29. crime is ignorance, and that to save and lead this ignorance to\vards good, is a ser-vice that approximates the human actor towards his divine Creator.—Howitt^s Journal. From flie Cleveland True Democrat, a \Vhia na-per. " - SIGNIFICANT. The Charieston Mercury, the mouth-piece of John C. Calhoun, the great Slave monger of the South, has come out em-phatically in favor of General Taylor for the Presidency. There is a propriety, a fitness of things, about this, that we ad-mire. Mr. Calhoun and the leading ad-vocates of slavery and its extension, at the South, are doubtless upon terms of confi-dential intercourse with Gen. Taylor, and fully understand his views and sentiments in relation thereto. They know his views on the Wilmot proviso, and they have de-clared them to the country. As they view the matter, they assert that his sentiments are sound, that is, he is in favor of exten-ding slavery over the^iew territory to ba acquired by the dismemberment of Mex-ico. The South would never thus have brought forward Taylor as their candi-date for the Presidency, unless they- were assured that he was entirely Southern in his views, at least as respects the question of slavery. Depend upon it that the south know their man. They rely upon no con-tingencies, they go for no man that has not been weighed in the balance. And this is not confined to any particular par-ty ; it is a united, spontaneous movement of the people of the South, not of a party. In view of this crisis in tte history of sla-very, the preferences and predjudices of party are thrown to the winds, and the asperity of feeling which has heretofore characterized their action towards each other, is dissipated, and all have united upon a common platform. - The Northern Whigs and Democrats must see, in this union of parties at the South,that something besides the advance-ment of mere partisan views is contempla-ted— that it is to be a union sectional in its character, and of a nature calculated to strike at the very root, aye, the exist-ence of our institutions. They have made it a consideration above, independent, of party. And yet there are those at the North who urge that we should not meet this issue, that Ht is unconstitutional to vote against a slaveholderOut upon such sickly, such sycophantic subservien-cy to the South. They do not consider it unconstitutional to vote for a slaveholder and none but a slaveholder. Why then shall we truckle and 'bend the pregnant hinges of the knee'to those who would grind us into the d u s t T h e time has come when the great parties of the North must unite in this great cause, (however they may stand on other questions) and maintain the integrity of the constitution. THE RIGHT GROUND. We have seldom been better pleased, than with a letter of Hon. George Rath-bun, democratic representative from New York, in reply to a charge of dodging the final vote on the Wilmot Proviso. After triumphantly disproving the charge, he concludes his letter as follows : 'One word in conclusion : my feelings and judgment are so strongly enlisted in favor of free territory, and against the ex-tension of slavery, that / tri// rote for no man for Representative, Senator or Presi-dent of the United States, who has voted or will vote for the extension of slavery, or against the principle of the Wilmot Provi-so; nor will I vote for any man for such office who is not openly and sincerely in fa-vor of preventing the farther extension of slavery in any territory belonging to, or which may hereafter belong to the United States." This is plain, decided, honest, and on the right ground. No such avowed des-pots as Calhoun or Taylor, or such apos-tates as Cass, will receive the vole of Mr. I Rathbun. How much more consistent i and effective is such a declaration as this, than the pledge of our member to support the candidate of the Baltimore Conven-tion, let him be whom he may! Let it be understood that the parly cannot bind men to do wrong, and the chains of party will be less galling—and there will be hope that our country can be saved. Next to the bondage of the slave, is the despotism of party to be dreaded, despised, and bro-ken up. We pity that man who is a slave to party.—Herkimer Freeman. For the Chatter Oak. FIFTH OF JULY. The New Haven County Anti-Slavery Society, convened on the anniversary of American Independence, in the Con-gregational church in North Guilford, at 10 o'clock in the morning. The day was fair, though warm, and although the at-tendance was not numerous, yet there were many true hearts there ; those who truly believed in the great principles of our declaration of rights, a ^ we trust were in some measure grateful for the blessing! of liberty which we enjt^ and 'mainly ottxioas'that all the inkabituta
|Title||Charter Oak, 1847-07-22|
|Uniform Title||Charter oak (Hartford, Conn. : 1846)|
|Subject||Slavery -- United States -- Newspapers; Antislavery movements -- United States -- Newspapers; Hartford (Conn.) -- Newspapers|
|Description||Frequency: Weekly; Publication dates: New ser., vol. 1, no. 1 (Jan. 8, 1846)-v. 3, no. 52 (Dec. 28, 1848)|
|Collection||Newspapers of Connecticut|
|Source - Location||Connecticut State Library microfilm, AN104.H3 C63|
|Relation||Continues: Christian freeman (Hartford, Conn.) (DLC)sn 84025778 (OCoLC)10657256; Continues: Republican (Hartford, Conn.) (DLC)sn 84025785 (OCoLC)10703015|
|Relation-Is Part Of||Series title: Anti-Slavery newspapers|
|Publisher||Hartford [Conn.] : William H. Burleigh,|
|Rights||Digital Image © Connecticut State Library. All rights reserved. Images may be used for personal research or non-profit educational uses without prior permission. For permission to publish or exhibit, see Reproduction and Publication of State Library Collections, http://ctstatelibrary.org/reproduction-publication/|
|CONTENTdm file name||1914.cpd|
WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH.
ATHau aBaTmAI.BOW,K*BXFOBD, ooim.
T E R M S .
Two DoLumi « » Amnw-^roin which Fifty
CenU will be deducted if paid strictlr in adranoe.
Two doUan to City Snfaccriben, who receive the
«i4>cr by the Cairier.
Single copies, FODB CENTS.
No difference will be paid upon F^zchanges, Daily
No paper discontinued till all aTreatagea are paid,
ttcept at the option of the Publisher.
All Leuers and Communications must be ad-dresfed
to the Publisher, tt? Pott Paid.
Cori'spondentt will be permitted to speak their
own seni'-ments (however widely differing from ours)
upon their own responsibility—on these conditions,
that they outiage neither decency, good English, nor
i;ood taste, and give their names to the Publisher.
Tliis last we requir* for our own satisfaction—^not
br the public.
' TERMS OF ADVERTISING.
AOVEBTISEMENTS will be inserted at the follow-ing
For one square, or 20 lines, three weeks, SI 00
** Continuance each insertion, • 20
" Ten lines or half square, three weeks, 63
* Continuance eacn insertion, 10
*• One sauare a year, - - 10 00
** OB square a year with privilege of
changing once in three weeks. 12 00
W. H. AHDO. 8 . B U B L S I 6 H . '
FAM] LY NEWSPAPER.
The ChaMm Oak, wodU aem BMk bgr wear-ing
the CHAKTMB or n s BioaTs bom tia gnsp
of Tynimy. It ia « Fiee Paper,—aet diaietea a
channel far aD bdbBl»-bat what it WoM imy, it
wiUaayfreely. b will staadia defanae of aU r i ^
however lowfy and down-tradden, and tJi(aw rebuke
into the face of all wnmg, wnether in pmple and
broadcloth, or in rags and si]^^. Tet, thoo^ it
amites the sin, it will not hate the linner. It will
be chiefly devoted to the cause of LIBBBTT, ad-vocating
independent poUticai action against Slave-ry,
but it will wear the collar of oo Patty. It will
aim to make whole, not demolish Govenoment,—to
Wrest its sceptre from the bimds of oppiesaon, not
to break it. It would not pot a fire-brand to Churck
and State, to purify them,—but spare the temples
while it touts the vermin that are thronging them.
LiTERATtTBE, of a hearty, manly sort, will have its
place here, with all that tends toward human eleva-tion.
We shall seek not to divorce the spirit of Pro-gress
from the sense of Beauty—but rather aim to
wed Refinement to Reform—not forgetting, however,
to use the scourge when high-handed wickedness
shall demand iL Passing Events and fixed Princi-ples,
the transient News, and the eternal Laws, shall
find a record in our Paper; and everything which
honest endeavor, good will and some experience
can do, will be attempted, to make it welcome to its
friends, a blessing to Humani^, and to ourselves a
means of an honeMlivelihood.
NEAV SERIES. HARTFORD, -CONN, THURSDAY, JULY 22, 1847.
~ CHR1STI.\N EDLC.\T10N.
1. A tcise dtsciplitie is essential to a
christian education. In vain will yuu hope
to lead j'our children in the ways of piely
|CONTENTdm file name||1910.pdfpage|