Camden Journal, 1852-01-23

'As if God pour'd thee from his " hollow liaud," j And hung his how upon thine awful front; And spoke in tltat loud voice, which socm'd to him "Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake, The sound of many waters;" and had bado "Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, And notch Ilis centuries in the eternal rocks. Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we, That hear the question of that voice sublimo ? 01 what are all the notes that ever rung From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side I Yea, what is all the riot man can make In his short life, to thy unceasing roar! And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him Who drown'd a world, asid heaped the "waters far Above its loftiest mountains??a lightwave, "That breaks, and whispers of its Maker's might. THE FELON'S SON/ 'QYrwar'd* the end of the Last century, -a young man arrived at Marsciles, on commercial afihire: he took up his abode at an inn, where he had been about three weeks, when he received a letter one evening, whscli obliged him to call immediately on one of the principle merchants of ftie town. The merchant was out, and, as his wife said that he was most'probably at-the tliea- , trc. George, (so our hero called himself) went .thither to seek aim. lie entered the pit, and loo- j ked round in vain for the person he wanted; blit as it was early he thought thdt the merchant 1 might still come, and he sat down to wait for %im. In a few minuets, George heard the word; ' turn him out! turn him out!' uttered with great vehemence; and looking round to see to whom they were addressed, he preceivod they were iuteuded for a youth of sickly appearance and very mild countenance, who sat neat'him. , 'How is this V cried George,'turning to the jperson who sat next hhn, 'whtit lifts (he boy done K/? tiwitivl in si??h a manner?'

iv ?yv vivmww ? ? ? The person to whom he spoke was a man about j fifty. 'Do you know liim?' said he coltllv. fSTo?I never saw him before.' 'Well, then take a friends advice, and don't , meddle in the matter. The boy's name is Tinville: he is a grandson of that monster, FouqUot tTmvill. At these words, George recoiled with h?*dr in his countenance. <My good sir,' said his neighbor, 'I sec that you agree with me, that there are names which always make honest people tremble.' George heaved a deep sigh. 'And yet, said he, alter a moment's pause, 'If the boy himfelf has done nothing bad, I don't think it just or generous to insult him: he is already unfortunate enough.' The noise had "been suspended for an instant? but, just as our hero uttered these words, the riotors re-Commenced their cries. The lad feighned not to precievc that he was the object of them; h but bis alarm was visible in countenance. Enr cooragefl by his timidity, one of the aggressors began to pull his coat, and another took nim by the collar. George quickly rose. 'Stop a moment,' said his neighbor, catching hold of him; 'don't ycta see they are ten to one?' 'Let them he twenty to two, then,' cried he in, dignantly; 'I will never stand by tamely and see a helpless boy rfbused.' Breaking from the gra^p of his prudent neigh -

"i -will not leave you witnout telling you mr.? | Know that I am the son of that St. Aubin, who, P on being arrested for forger}*, killed one of the . gen?-d1 amies, who was sent to seize him, and expiated his crime upon the scaffold. I had returned home from college about a year and a ! half before this dreadful event took place. Im, perfectly acquainted with lrty father's ' circumstances, I asked him to gvie me a profession.? ' lie refused assuring me that it was not necessary, as his property was sufficient for us both, even ' independent of well founded expectations which ' he had, that I should inherit a considerAble for| tunc from an uncle in the Indies. | 'Satisfied with these reasons, aud concluding from the style in which my father lived, that he . must be very rich, I thought, no more of > pro\ fession. Some months passed away, when one , morning my father entered my apartment, and t announced to me abruptly that lie was ruined.? . Shocked and overwhelmed 'as I was, I had presence of mind enough to attempt to coasole him. Tho education you Lave given me,' cried I, 'will secure as frotn want, and you have still many | friends.' 'Not one.?not, one!' cried he in agony. ( 'Driven to despair, by my losses on Cluuige, I bad borroSved money where I could, and finding ill luck continually pursue me, I had recourse to j

; -It is impossible to descril>e the mingled cx( prcssion of grief and shame which appeared in I the countenaucc of George when he heard these 1 words. lie was siient for a moment rat last he said, in a voice of great emotion, 'You arc right; i I never thought, I never hoped it could be otheri wise. Hitherto I have concealed from you who 1 I am; but to-morrow you shall know all. Leave me now Ibcseech you.' Shocked with his evident distress,"Standlial , pressed his harid 'kindly, begged of him to comi pose himself, and left him. The good banker knew not what to think of this scene; yet he was persuaded that no blame was attached to George. > The next morning, he learned with grief and surprise, that the young man had quitted'the house. The following letter, which he left bci hind him, will explain the cause of this step: 1 'now little did you think yesterday, my dear benefactor, that even in the moment when you ' meant to render me the happiest of men, you strtick a dagger to my heart? Yes?I kno\v?I ' feel that the mind of your angelic daughter never can be bestowed but upon the descendant of ' an honest nlan. I must then fly from her forev Cr* -s

Ail i Know oi mm, saiu tnc mcrcnant, is mai he comes from an old correspondent of mine, who has recomended liim veir strongly to Jne. He has transacted business for the gentleman with several others besides myself and he is generally regarded a? a clever and intelligent young man, My friend lamented in his letter, that he had not the power to offer him a permanent situation, and he has asked me to look out for one for him ?but I have not met with any thiug likely'tc suit.' This was enough for Stendhal, who was a sort of benevolent Quixottc in bis way. He wished to serve George; but with the delicacy of true gen-roeity, he desired that the young man should fee! himself the obliger, rather than the obliged, II.- told him that he wanted a clerk; George fell into the innocent snare laid for him; he ottered him iclf, and was directly accepted. Mr. Stendhal was well satisfied with the abilities of his new clerk, and not less so with lib conduct : the only thing that he wished was, tc sec in the young man more of the guity natural to his tiuie of life, but he was constantly serious, aud even sad, notwithstanding that his tcmpei was so sweet, aud his manners so mild and ainia -

- in. wu ttuui say son you Knew an. inc , father, who was universally believed to be very j rich, had taken up money wherever hS could; and ; the aniont he owed was within a few hundreds ; of the sum his son inherited. The young man j did not hesitate; he paid the hist farthing'of His , unworthy father's 'debts As none of us had the smallest claim against him, we felt it our duty to offer to give up a part; but he would not hear of it.' 'That was right; I like' theHepirit;' atfd, p6or follow, it was hard for him too, to have only a few hundreds left.' 'Nay, lie has not even that.' 'What do you mean ?' Why, he has assigned the interest of it as a pension to the mother of a gens-d'armes whom las father shot.' "Tis he!?by Heaven, it is St Aubin!?It mast be lie!' 'It is, indeed: but how did you become acquainted with him V 'Never mind that now, but tell me instantly where he is.' 'He is, or at least he wa3 two months since, a clerk in a banking-house at Amsterdam.' Stendhal lost not a moment in proceeding thither?and presented himself to the astonished George.

Very True,?Almost ail the parts of our bodies require some expense. The feet demand shoes; the legs, stockings; the rest of the body, clothing, and the belly a good deal of victuals. Our eyes, though exceedingly useful, ask, when reasonable, the cheap assistance of spectacles, which could not much impair our finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes that ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should waiit neither fine clothes, fine houses nor fine furniture* Foreign Residents in Cuba.?Since the trial of Mr. Thrasher, the Captain-General has adopted a stjict policy of treating all residents with letters of domicil as Spanish subjects. Instructions have been given to grant no letters hereafter without the Oath of adjuration and allegiance mad personally. Heretofore, for many years, domiciliate letters have been granted as a matter of course, on the payment of agent's fees, and without the personal attendance of the party, or the administration of any oath. They could be taken out for persons not on the Island. All this is mw changed, and the party seeking to reside and ki.uin/Mj in fhlhn. Inn cm r t.linn three

prapared to pronounce against its use in bedding and winter breakings. Indeed, Wo hardly know how we xoufd dispense with its use in our preparations. It is a remarkable fact, that the Indians never wear out land. Perhaps it may be replied, they never work enough to wear it out.? This will have to remain a moqted question; but if settled,we think it very'probable tVt much of the reason would be found in their modes of culture, and that the soil suffered less by the use of the hoe,than by o\ir frequeiit ttptuniingjs with the plow. We shall not insist, of course, that they furnished models for our . adoption, but these results may have iu them lessons from which sr,e may learu something, and hpbh ivldch we might improve. It is painful and an alarming disclosure, that the soil is very soon exhausted by our modes of culture, and it is time that we should make the inquiry, and see if there may not be no change for the better.?-Soil of the South. A murderous affray took place in Philadelphia on Friday between two brothers, Andrew and Arthur McBrifie, over a card table, in which the latter was stabbed by the former, causing