The Colonization herald and general register

              Colonic atiott
craft
AND GENERAL REGISTER.
CONDUCTED BY   THE   PENNSYLVANIA   COLONIZATION  SOCIETY.
WHATSOEVER  YE   WOULD   THAT   MEN   SHOULD   DO  TO   YOU,   DO   YE   EVEN  SO   TO  THEM.
Vol. I.—NEW SERIES.
PHILADELPHIA,   WEDNESDAY,  SEPTEMBER   10,   1838
NO. 38.
From  the Religious Magazine and Family Miscel¬
lany.
THE CHRISTIAN PATRIOT.*
Tiic social relations of man are a necessary condi¬
tion of his being, and the basis of obligations which
environ him from the commencement until the close
of his probation. At its successive stages he is met
by the claims of a new economy, introduced to a sphere
of new responsibilities and duties, for which the ante¬
cedent state was designed and admirably adapted to
prepare him. Of the various characters which ho is
thus called to BOSUin, and for which a previous train¬
ing has been provided, that of Me citizen is not the
least interesting or important.
The origin of his connection with the Etate, and the
ground of its obligations, have been to the curious and
the wise of every age, themes of ingenious specula¬
tion. A class have resolved it into an original com¬
pact between the governor and the governed, binding
their descendants to all ages ; and others, who ascribe
its origin to fortuitous circumstances, allow to prescrip¬
tion an authority equally paramount. By some it is
considered the result of a voluntary, but irrevocable
surrender on the part of each individual of personal
right?; of a tacit consent on the part of the governed,
by others, to be withdrawn al any moment that conve¬
nience or caprice may dictate ; while others still trace
it directly to the divine will, and clothe the functions
of the magistracy, however administered, with the
permanent sanctions of Heaven.
Leaving these theories and conjectures for the
amusement or instruction of the philosophers who have
raised them, it may be profitable to dwell for a few
moments on some of the plain and obvious duties of
the civil and social relations as we actually find them.
The liability to overlook them in the pursuits of a*i
engrossing selfishness, always and every where calls
for a suitable exhibition of them. Under a government,
iind in times like our own, they need to be presented
and urged with tenfold emphasis.
The object of human government is to meet a de¬
mand of the divine government. If the connection
between the violation of law and its penalty were as
immediate as it is sure; if at the guilty instant of
transgression the sword of divine justice flashed retri¬
bution in the face of the offender, there would be
neither occasion nor room for human laws. But the
execution is deferred, and a world is left to the work¬
ings of unrestrained and unmitigated depravity. Amid
elements so discordant and centrifugal, civil regula¬
tions are essential, not to the well-being but to the
tolerable existence of society. The strong arm of
Irgal power must be able to arrest and restrain by ponal
inflictions the bold transgressor, whom the hopes and
the fears of the future and the infinite cannot reach.
Such being the occasion of government, its only legiti¬
mate object is the greatest good of the greatest num¬
ber of its subjects. The man who faithfully labours to
secure it, is the true patriot.
To Christian Patriotism 1 do not attach a shade of
meaning, which dims the lustre of the native feeling.
The man ceases not to be a man when he becomes a
Christian ; the citizen ceases not to love his country
when he begins to love his God. Religion has ap¬
proached bis selfish and baser affections, and transmu¬
ted them into ministers of blessing. The morally
wrong it has transformed; the constitutional and na¬
tural it has strengthened, and secures their safe and
beneficent exercise, substituting fixed principle for in¬
stinct and impulse.
It is then an axiom with him, that in pursuit of the
object named he is in every capacity to yield unquali¬
fied allegiance to the Supreme Ruler. An action in¬
consistent with his revealed will, the general good not
less than personal safety forbids him to perform. If
war bo an infraction of the great law of love, patrio¬
tism commands him to abstain from it. Relations,
however interwoven with Hie fabric of society, in their
essence sinful and which cannot continue without guilt,
he knows cannot find a termination too speedy for na¬
tional safety. The line of rectitude is before him, and
though it seemingly cross the path of his country's
prosperity, he will not swerve. He is guided by lights
which never flicker and cannot mislead, and the cuckoo
note of fear doth not alarm him. When the law and
the testimony do not decide, he is left to the dictates
of an enlightened expediency.
Let us now consider some of the duties which de¬
rive an indisputable sanction from one or both of these
sources. The end of all is the same that has been
stated, but their character is twofold, as they have for
their immediate object government itself, or the sub¬
jects of government.
The Christian patriot aims to secure for the govern¬
ment of his country, efficiency and success at home,
respect and influence abroad.
For this purpose he endeavours to place its admin¬
istration in the hands of safe and competent nun—
men of religious principle, or in their absence those
whose political affinities afford the strongest presump¬
tion of the correctness of their policy. The lists of
partisan warfare he does not enter, but his post at the
ballot box is never vacant. The turbulence which dis¬
gusts and annoys him, convinces him that his presence
is needed to overawe it. Outvoted by venal patriots
imported and indigenous, he feels that there is greater j
occasion for his name and services, remembering that
the history of the republic is interspersed with signal
instances of the power of a virtuous minority.
He farther upholds government by manifest respect
for its officers and obedience to its laws—a practice
essential to the stability of a constitution like our own.
The despots who can enforce his edicts with the bayo¬
net, may dispense with it.    His purposes move steadi¬
ly on lo tiicir consummation amid the deepest execra¬
tions of his subjects.    But among ourselves, an unpop¬
ular law is nugatory without it.    So important an ele¬
ment of influence has it been regarded, that in other
countries the administration of justice is encircled with I
factitious splendor.    The grades and titles, the badges !
and retinue which impart it, are favourable to a class,'
of feelings which have their merits and their uses—j
less doubtless than result from our own system.    But
OOr good sense must compensate for a deficiency which
is real; must teach us that an equal, invested with the
insignia of power, is no longer an equal; must eradi- j
cafe the bitter defamation of public character—that |
besetting and fatal sin of the nation—calling to its aid
the divine  injunction not to speak evil of the ruler.
In its ordinary acceptation, the " vox populi vox Dei"
is a term of blasphemy ; but in an important sense it
is literally true.    Whenever the will of the people has
deputed to one of their number the administration of a
righteous  law, authority higher than the popular suf¬
frage enjoins fealty and homage.
With personal deference and obedience to govern¬
ment, the Christian citizen unites active co-operation
in its maintenance. The ealvation of our country is
staked upon the supremacy of her laws. Contingency
here is insecurity every where. It is endangered by
the prevalence and power of sinful practices, which,
* Delivered at the Annual Meeting of the Porter Rhet¬
orical Society, Theo. Seminary, Andover, Sept 183T.
from the known impotency of legal enactments to fet¬
ter the progress of moral sentiment, have towered
above them, and enlisted their authors in the fool-hardy
attempt to gain by violence what is denied by law.
There is danger in an opposite direction from the same
disposition to sacrifice righteousness on the altar of
seeming expediency—in efforts for the extermination
of actual evil, danger of countenancing the heresy
that the end sanctifies the means. It is a mistake
which good men among us have committed, who have
found to their sorrow that they have roused a demon
which they cannot lay—that the appetite which has
been stimulated by a single repast, like the fabled Mi¬
notaur calls for a slated oblation—not the refuse and
the base, but the noble and the worthy. The rage of
an excited multitude is too awful, too potent to be the
agent of a peaceful economy like ours. If it has hurl¬
ed from their deep foundations thrones and dynastiee,
if Bnstiles and standing armies have been crushed be¬
fore it, if barricadoes and bolts cannot restrain or with¬
stand its impetuosity, what is to become of your guar¬
antees of parchment, your paper ordinances, your Con¬
stitution and Bill of Rights—a wreath in the grasp of
the populace ! Be assured that our patriot will not
remotely encourage a despotism, the most irresponsible,
wanton and cruel, the most odious and insufferable
that ever cursed humanity.
I mention a remaining obligation to government
which engages his special attention, that of watching
its machinery, of insisting that its policy be regulated
by principles of immutable rectitude. He recognizes
the law of conscience as binding alike on the indivi¬
dual and the community. Penetrated with the con¬
viction that the nation's dignity and welfare are con¬
sulted, not by craft and strat3gem, but by an open and
steadfast adherence lo the rules of equity, he will not
tolerate a violation of them in her representative. He
will call to account for abuse of trust the miscreants
who have dishonored her name by shuffling and in¬
trigue, and compel them to give place to men imbued
with the true spirit.
Let us pass to the consideration of that class of du¬
ties, of which the welfare of the community is still the
end, but of which its members and not its rulers car
the objects. Aiming at the greatest happiness of all,
he uses his influence in an individual and legislative
capacity to promote their intellectual, moral and reli¬
gious improvement.
Judicious labour hero saves the necessity of much
in other departments. The remark would not be so
trite if it were not so true, that however self-interest
or mutual benefit may for a time cement our govern¬
ment, the intelligence and virtue of the people are its
only safeguards. There are too many means of cor¬
ruption within the reach of unprincipled nmbilion, to
render our liberties safe in the hands of those who can
be seduced by the blandishments of power, or awed by
its threats. Hence, appreciating the office of govern¬
ment as a remedial function, he appropriates its revo-
nue to the diffusion of useful knowledge. Hence as
a private citizen he yields an active support to those
voluntary associations' of bencvolonoo, which teach the
people the true objects, and train them to right habits of
living. He need not be clothed with official patronage.
The burden of our country's destiny rests upon men
who appear not on the noisy arena, who in secluded
and tinhnnoured retreats cherish the true feeling, and
regulate the secret springs and sources of healthful
influence. The hero of the tented field inflicting on
his country's prosperity blows more fatal than on the
hostile army, the politician aiming at the mere correc¬
tion of vice, have too long received the meed of praise
from communities who forget that its prevention is the
nobler duty, and the faithful Sabbath School teacher is
a better citizen than either.
In pursuit of his object, he guards the liberties of
his countrymen against the encroachments of power.
The freedom of speech and of the press are his birth¬
right—a citadel which he never surrenders. The in¬
solence of authority which attempts a restriction of
this or a similar franchise, will effect its object only by
the fetter and the gng. The lictor who is commission¬
ed on such an errand, will need the fasces and the axes.
The obligation to defend the rights of others suggests
lo him the duty of a temperate, but fearless and manly
exercise of his own—a full investigation of all matters
which atl'ect the public weal, and the free avowal of
his sentiments. It is the glory of our system, when
untrammelled, that it leaves him so directly responsi¬
ble to his Maker ; and observing how speedily among
us principles are translated into action, he will feel the
weight of a no ordinary responsibility. But his judg¬
ment cautiously formed is stable, and his course unde-
viating. Not that concessions are never called for,
particularly in a republic. Personal feeling may, and
often must be surrendered. Clashing interests may,
and should be compromised. But a compromise of
principle—what is it, but its abandonment and sacrifice?
Not by 6uch treachery will he seek to advance the in¬
terests of truth.
But while he shields his country's liberty from usur¬
pation, he will be not less anxious lo save it from na¬
tional corruption, whose inroads are insidious, and
require it, like the golden fruit, to be watched with
sleepless jealousy. He is on the alert to detect the
first symptoms of danger, and utters a distinct and
timely note of warning. The exposure of faults, though
an ungracious duty, he feels to be yet a duty.
Among the prognostics which darken our present
sky, the spirit of faction would doubtless arrest his
attention; which, inconsistent by its definition with
the end of government, and deaf to the calls of reason
and humanity, tramples on feelings and rights, and
hesitates not to enthrone its idol on the ruins of the
constitution.
Another indication, to him of alarming import, would
be the love of gain which has seized the nation—the
eager chase of riches. I need but allude to it at a
lime when, through the length and breadth of the land,
the altars of Mammon are smoking with its victims.
From the barren selfishness of this passion he would
aim to save us, and would feel himself impelled by no
trivial motive, when he saw his fellow-christian, both
laymen and clergy, hurried headlong by the rage of
speculation; speculation ! the Legion which is rending
us.
I mention a single omen more, which would both
alarm his fears and enlist his services—the existence
among us of a domestic institution, inconsistent with
the principles of civil liberty and the precepts of the
Christian religion. As a patriot and a Christian, he
would labour for the removal of a stain, which as an
American and a Christian, he could not but feel. I
stood on the wharf of a western city, as the boats were
leaving, freighted for the southern market. Their
upper decks were lined with the subjects of a traffic,
which I will not name. They stood in mute and sul¬
len gloom, occasionally softened to an aspect of piteous
and forlorn grief, at the sight of a company of their
relatives and friends—their wives and husbands, their
children and parents, their sisters and brothers—assem-
bled on the bank to snatch a parting and final glance.
I watched that group, and sure I am that tears and j
looks of dumb agony found their way to heaven, with j
which tlieyeaw the objects of their love wafted slowly j
from their sight, consigned to the living death of a
Louisiana, plantation. As I reflected that in the sor¬
row so eloquently depicted on those countenances, I
witnessed the yearnings of a natural affection prover¬
bially strong; as I thought of the delicate and endear¬
ing ties so ruthlessly sundered; as I saw the sacred
attributes which I had been taught to revsro and love
trodden under the heel of insolent despotism, every in¬
stinct of my nature arrayed itself against the perpe¬
trators of this outrage on humanity. I had but too re¬
cently breathed the free air of New England, to re¬
strain the mingof indignant and virtuous hate towards
the system, which had conjured up the spectacle be¬
fore me. But it was with humbled and subdued emo¬
tions that I called to mind the image of my country;
recollected that under the aegis of her protection this
anomaly of evil had flourished in sheltered security;
that through so vast a territory overshadowed by her
wing, scenes of as tragic interest, of as moving pathos,
might be daily witnessed ; might be and were, because
in many places the life-blood of a system which allow¬
ed them every where. And to what, let me ask, does
the spectacle appeal 1 As he turned from such a scene,
not loving his country less, but hating her faults more,
would he not devote himself with emphatic earnest¬
ness to the work of redeeming political freedom from
glaring inconsistency, the blessings of religion from
foul and damning taint, from barbarian rudeness and
ferocity the nineteenth century of the Christian era ?
As a means of saving both government and people
from dangers like these, the Christian citizen aims to
present objects worthy of national ambition. The
line of a nation's policy is the thread of a nation's des¬
tiny. The genius of our own people has not yet re¬
ceived a decisive bent, and is waiting for a formative
agency. Pre-eminence in the arts and sciences, or a
literature which should give new Miltons and Shak-
speares to a renovated language, would be to many the
acme of national renown. Greatness and glory are
associated in the minds of others only with the strength
of armies and the pride of navies. A less dazzling but
to his rye a nobler exhibition, is power dispensing
blessings—a nation laying the foundations of its fame
in the gratitude and joy of distant ages and climes, and
by deeds which keep its functions in healthful activity,
expelling that corroding ambition which would destroy
its vitals.
But the patriot and the Christian shine conspicuously
in his steadfast attachment to country, under disap¬
pointment and trial. Gratitude for her cornucopia of
blessings is the predominant feeling, and his mind
dwells on the objects which enkindle affection and zeal.
The motto of patriot statesman of old—never to
despair of the Republic—is engraven on his heart.
Ho has no sympathy with the men, whose evil fancies
are disturbing the peace of the present, and blighting
tho hopes of the future, with dark forebodings; who
witness in every moment an expiring throe, and revel
in scenes of anticipated disaster and infamy. The gift
of second vision has not enabled him to look down the
vista, and the phantoms of terror whit h throng it do
not Imunt l,i«. iU»wghta Ho L-nows th'„- nrinciple3 in
the highest degree conservative, often, pernapo «....„.
sally, in their practical operation occasion partial and
temporary inconvenience, as the tempest which ravages
the land and strows the ocean with wrecks, is the min¬
ister of a wholesome provision for the freshness and
purity of the atmosphere, and the fertility of nature.
If he entertained well-grounded fears, he would cau¬
tiously avoid an expression of them which would only
hasten the catastrophe he dreaded.
A feeling of sadness, a sense of shame may steal
over him as he enters the halls of legislation, and looks
at the seats of the Ilainiltons and the Henrys of a
former day. The ostracism of party may have banish¬
ed from the nation's councils the men who guided her
through trying emergencies; who spake, and the wel¬
kin rang with their plaudits. But, he reflects, they
are not lost to their country, and a crisis will prove it.
On smooth waters, beneath serene heavens, the vessel
may dispense with seamanship in the mariner, or skill
at the helm ; but let a storm threaten, and tho instinct
of self-preservation will summon to her management
the tried crew and the veteran pilot.
Wc open tho writings of Fisher Ames, the Edmund
Burke of America, with a pensive regret that the even¬
ing of his brilliant life should have been clouded by
political despondency. The ascendancy of the demo¬
cratic party is a death-blow to his fond hopes of the
republic. The dangers of French Jacobins are gleam¬
ing before his vision. Sick with the eight of corrup¬
tion, chafed and wounded in the contest with evils
which he cannot subdue, he retires to brood in bitter¬
ness over the wreck of his earthly schemes, over the
deep profligacy and the deeper prospective ruin of his
country. Yet he cannot abandon her to her fate, and
from his Sibyl retreat scatters to the winds prophetic
strains—mournful, but thrilling with such eloquence
of expostulation and warning and entreaty, as the
world has not since listened to. The apathy of the
good stings him with the poignoncy of despair, and he
welcomes the messenger of release from a trial, the
greatest conceivable. Vainly was this mighty spirit
thus sorrowfully wasted. The youthful republic sur¬
vived the fears of her patriot, and promises to outlive
them long.
Turn we to a model—even Washington. Amid the
perplexities of the cabinet, the wiles of faction, the
cries and complaints of universal distress; in the din
of battle and the confused retreat, behold the patience,
the courage, the fortitude, tho serenity of the man.
In the moment of deepest gloom, while stout hearts
are trembling and 6trong men are bowing before the
storm, his voice is heard above the warring elements,
in tones which cheer the fainting spirits and rally the
broken energies of a disheartened nation.
The patriot may despair; the Christian patriot, never.
He knows the way to the mercy-seat, and when the
heavens are shrouded with the signals of dismay, the
power which calmed Gennesareth will again be invoked,
the fiat which created light will again be uttered, and
the bow of promise shall gild the retiring tempest.
As we press forward to assume responsibilities like
these, we cannot be too deeply sensible of the delicacy
and the magnitude of the trust; treading on no com¬
mon theatre, guardians of no common interest, arbiters
of no common destiny. The dwellers on the earth
gazed with no ordinary wonder and expectation, when
this new sphere was hung in the firmament. Amid
worlds and systems time-worn and crazy and lagging,
its mighty orbit was spanned, and it rushed on its path¬
way of splendor, a signal to the universe—the admira¬
tion and the joy of all lands. But not alone by its
bright example was it to beckon the nations to freedom
and to happiness. It started at an era when the true
relations of man were beginning to be understood, and
his obligations to his fellow and to his Maker acknow¬
ledged and felt And while the nations of the Old
World were groaning under a load of ills which centu¬
ries had accumulated and which are crushing them
still with mountain weight, our nation, in the freshness
and elasticity of youthful vigour, was left unshackled
to develope her mighty resources, and free to employ
them for the welfare of the race.   To aid in securing
this glorious original design, is the pleasing and weigh¬
ty service committed to our hands.
To those of us who have come up, for the last time,
to share the festivities of our Society, the subject ad¬
dresses itself with peculiar interest. We are reminded,
gentlemen, as we close a relation of mutual improve¬
ment and endearment, that it is to enter on a broader,
that the bond of common country still unites us. The
eve of enlistment in the service is a fitting season for
self-consecration to its duties.
Some of us are to labour in New England, on soil
hallowed by the graves of our fathers. It will be to
us a delightful office of filial piety, to perpetuate the
monuments and tho memory of their worth ; to aim to
restore and preserve the simplicity of anc;ent manners,
the primitive integrity of New England character; to
ward off assaults on her honoured institutions ; to ren¬
der her, what to a great extent she ever has been, the
nursery of all that is benevolent in feeling, and holy
in purpose, and sublime in action—a name of hope aud
of promise to the world.
Others of our number will enter the "Great Val¬
ley"—that beautiful expanse, beaming with one broad
smile to heaven. To assist in training its infant nation,
whose giant tread will soon resound through the halls
of the Capitol, will be our arduous and responsible
duty. And a gracious Providence shall we account it,
which stations us amid those teeming millions, with an
instrumentality so direct and powerful on the destinies
of our own land, and through her on the world's des¬
tiny.
Nor will those of us, who by self-banishment may
be guilty of a seeming parodox, be denied interest and
co-operation in the cause of country. As the familiar
and loved objects of our native land are receding;
when its last blue line shall have faded forever from
the view—in the silent passage, on the distant strand,
in lonely wanderings and amid the peopled solitude;
in success or defeat, in sorrow and in joy, the heart
will point with unerring polarity to the country of its
birth. Her fair form, enshrined in its affections like
the image of the departed, will be a constant memento
of duty ; and while honouring her institutions by trans-
plantiug them beneath a foreign sky, will prompt the
endeavour to rouse herself to high thoughts and wor¬
thy deeds. And thus, in our several spheres faithful
to this relation, when the lines of country shall have
been merged and forgotten, we may indulge the hope
of participating in tho dulie3 and privileges of celes¬
tial citizenship.
TRAVELS IN THE WESTERN CAUCASUS, dec.
By Edmund Spencer, Esq.    2 vols.    Colburn.
In these volumes Mr. Spencer continues the narra¬
tive of his former work on Circassia, and adds an ac¬
count of his tour homewards, through some of the
Turkish and Austrian provinces, which are rarely vis¬
ited by travellers. The interest attached to the strug¬
gle between the mountaineers of the Caucasus and the
gigantic power of Russia, has not yet abated. Russia
has prepared to put forth all her strength to crush the
jndeoondence of the Circassian tribes; and while the
issue is yet uncertain, «« ^v,»i mnuxaily curious to
learn every circumstance which may illustrate the na¬
ture of the war, and the character of the combatants.
Mr. Spencer was present at one of the scenes so fre¬
quently repeated in this war—the advance of a Rus¬
sian detachment, its apparent certainty of success, its
entanglement in a defile, and its fatal defeat. The
news of the invaders' approach was brought in the
midst of festivities:
"It seemed as if amusement were the only occupa¬
tion—as if the campaign were already concluded, at
least for this year. How delusive was the calm ! In
the midst of this apparent security, all at once numer¬
ous lights gleamed through the dense foliage on the
mountain-top with a fiery redness (prophetic of the ap¬
proaching struggle) which was soon followed by a
crash of cannon fearfully reverberating from valley to
mountain, from glen to hill. ' Urus! Urus !—the
Russians! tho Russians!' burst at onco from the im¬
mense multitude; and in a few minutes several scouls,
on their foaming steeds, galloped down the dizzy
height. The Circassians, without waiting to hold a
council of war, instantly galloped forth to the assist¬
ance of their comrades—some to the valley of the Ze¬
roes, and others to the pass of the Bakan, where it was
ascertained that the combat had commenced, leaving,
however, a strong body of veterans to guard every ap¬
proach to their villages, in case of surprise."
The Seraskier placed the Circassians in ambush
along the gorge through which the main body of the
Russians was likely to pass; and tho author gives a
picturesque account of the strength of his position :
"About day-break the silence was interrupted for a
few minutes by the arrival of the scouts, as they burst
through the almost impenetrable thickets, with the in¬
telligence that the enemy were already in motion. At
this instant the scene was grand and imposing. There
was the foaming surge of the mountain stream swelled
to a torrent by the late rains—the beetling rocks, in all
their varied and grotesque forms—the dark foliage of
the gigantic trees—and the summits of the encircling
hills crimsoned with the roseate blushes of the rising
sun. Nor were the athletic forms of the highlanders,
in all their varied and picturesque attitudes, the re¬
turning scouts spurring their horses up the almost per¬
pendicular sides of the terrific glen, less striking aud
novel."
The Russians, unable to force this position, were
driven back with great loss; and their retreat was se¬
verely harassed by the Circassian cavalry. The charge
of the Circassians, mounted on their fleet steeds, and
armed with the sword and rifle, is almost irresistible:
" Unlike Europeans, they never fight in a line, but
in bodies of about twenty or thirty at a time—their
common practice being to fall unawares upon the ene¬
my, and harass them day and night during their march.
After making a charge, they disperse, then rally, and
return again to the charge, when their exhausted foe
supposes them to have fled ; and as they are certain to
kill immediately, or wound mortally, those whom they
hit, and never fail to avail themselves of a good posi¬
tion, these circumstances combined with their despe¬
rate bravery and perseverance, render them, perhaps,
the most formidable antagonists to bo found in any
country."
The triumph which awaits the Circassian warriors,
at the end of the campaign, is pleasingly exemplified
in the reception given to the sons of tho patriarch of
Pchad:
" When the train of warriors entered the little ter¬
ritory of the prince, they were met by numbers of
young women from the neighboring villages and ham¬
lets, who strewed their path with branches of trees and
flowers, while the old men and women, in eroups, im¬
plored, with uplifted arms, the blessings of Heaven on
tho defenders of their country's independence: at the
same time the song of the bhxd and the strain of the
minstrel were raised to celebrate their deeds and im¬
precate curses upon their unprincipled invaders, whom
they branded with a variety of epithets, which, I trust,
for the honor of the Russian Eoldier, were more poetical
4 than true."
But bravery in war is not the only honorable charac¬
teristic of this interesting pe-ple: according to Mr.
Spencer, they equal the Spartans in their respect for
old age, and the Paladins in their courteous behaviour
towards women:
"The man enfeebled by declining years, instead of
becoming an object of scorn and contempt to thought¬
less youth, as is, unhappily, too often seen in Europe,
is here respected and venerated by all classes of so¬
ciety. Wherever he moves, the crowd opens a path
to his progress; all the little attentions that a kind
people are capable of exercising, are certain to bo his.
In winter the warmest corner of the fire is assigned;
in summer, his cushion is arranged under the shade of
the veranda, while the beautiful hands of his lovely
daughter are employed in fanning away the insects
that might disturb his repose; presents of sweet-meats
and all the little delicacies usually given to children
in other countries, are bestowed upon him. In short,
they act fully up to their own proverb—■ Doubly ac¬
cursed is the man that draweth down upon himself the
curse of tho aged.' With regard to the respect paid to
women, I have frequently seen the gallant chief of
thousands of warriors descend from his charger, and
place on it some lonely damsel who might be trudging
along through the deep valleys to visit a distant friend,
and protect her safely to the next hamlet."
The age of chivalry, indeed, seems almost to be re¬
vived in tho meeting between a Barrakai chief and
a Karatchai princes, the affianced wife of his brother:
" I could not sufficiently admire the courteous bear¬
ing of the fine youth who had been delegated by his
brother to conduct his bride to her future home. He
leaped from his horse, and, after respectfully saluting
her, in a manner that would have done honor to any
of the most gallant knights of the middle ages, drew
his sword, and proceeded to make a long, and I dare
say eloquent, oration; but, as it underwent a double
translation, I have no doubt its force and spirit wero
proportionately injured. He commenced by praising
her beauty, comparing her eyes to diamonds, her cheeks
to the roses of Ariano', (Persia") and her form to the
graceful antelope. Neither did he forget to eulogiso
the virtues and bravery of the bridegroom, his brother
—the number of enemies he-had slain in battle, the
courage of the hands of warlike clansmen who caiied
him lord, the fertility of the country she was to adopt
as her own, and the vast flocks and herds of which she
was to become the sole mistress. Then turning the
point of his sword alternately to the four quarters of the
globe, swore he would protect her safely till he could
deliver her to his brother, even at the sacrifice of bis
life and of the lives of his escort, should it become ne¬
cessary—a declaration responded to by the whole band,
with loud acclamations."
Like most mountaineers, the Caucasians ore invete¬
rate in their vengeance; and an act of treachery com¬
mitted against them never goes unpunished. This
well-known trait in their character has proved of great
advantage to them during the present war. When¬
ever the Russians have invaded Turkey or Persia, they
have found the Armenians ready to act for them as
guides, spies, and agents; and to execute any act of
Baacbssy ■ duplicity which their policy required.
But notwithstanding the proverbial cupidity of the Ar¬
menians, the Circassians always employ them as their
ambassadors to Turkey and Persia, and as guides when
they have occasion to pass through the Russian domi¬
nions. The Armenians are faithful from sheer terror,
for they know that perfidy would be punished by the
extermination of their family, and that no place will
shelter them from the revenge of a Circassian :
"A catastrophe, exemplifying this feeling, occurred
not long since in Constantinople. A Turk betrayed a
Circassian knight of the Eastern Caucasus int* the
power of the Russian general; and as the bravery of
the chief had been very troublesome, he was shot.
The Turk escaped, with the reward of his treachery,
to Constantinople, where, having changed his name
and place of abode, he hop»d to enjoy his ill-gotten
wealth in security; but no! One morning, after a few
months had elapsed, the dead bodies of himself and
family, dreadfully mangled, were found in the atroets
of Constantinople, with a Circassian dagger stuck in
the throat of the delinquent. Who had done tho deed
none could tell, nor in what manner the assassin had
escaped; the weapon, however, indicated that in all
probability the hand of the avenger had been that of a
Caucasian."
The change from the mountain to the plain wsa
keenly felt by Mr. Spencer, when on his descent from
the Caucasus he entered Imcritia, one of the provinces
reluctantly subject to Russia. Kuthaissi, the first town
on his route, looked fair in the distance:
" But on arriving there, the illusion of its beauty en¬
tirely disappeared, for we found nothing but narrow
streets and dirty bazaars, nearly blocked up by stalls
of every description, from the cobler's and the tinker's
to the venders of cashmere shawls and gold embroi¬
dered muslins. In one place, pyramids of corn and
fruit were offered for sole—in another, mutton and
sturgeon were being sold by greasy-looking fellows to
the half-starved, squalid peasants; nor were the
weights and scales lees noticeable for their novelty
the one being made of wood and ropes, while round
stones were employed as a substitute for the others
The greater number of the buildings were nothing bet¬
ter than wretched huts, intermingled here with a low
shed as a stable for the cattle, and there with a house
the painted exterior of which denoted that it had seen
better days. The owners of these comfortless habita¬
tions, for the most part miserable in appearance, were
either basking in the sun, or squatted, enjoying the
tchibouque, under a sort of verandah, the shreds of
whose tattered canvas awning waved like dirty ban¬
ners floating in the wind."
The condition of the rest of the province was found
equally wretched; that of Mingrelia, which possesses
greater natural advantages, was still worse. One cir¬
cumstance mentioned by our author tends to prove
that, bad a9 was the condition of the Mingrelians un¬
der the Turks and Persians, it was worse under the
Russian government:
"The rivers of these provinces, abounding as thev
do, not only with the finest sturgeon, but witha varietv
of smaller fish, open sources of immense wealth in thei
fisheries. During the period when they were subject
to the rule of Turkey, and caviare was fashionable at
Constantinople, and exported by the merchants of that
city to every part of Europe, thousands of industrious
fishermen were employed; and so numerous were the
sturgeon then taken, particularly at the period of their
migration, that myriads were accustomed to be thrown
into the rivers after being deprived of the roe and the
air-bladders. At present there is not a single fishing
boat to be seen on the river, and, according"to the ac
count of the natives, the fish now proceed higher ud in
shoals, when, on arriving in shallow water thev am
killed in thousands by the women and children with
the blows of staves. l
On entering the Turkish territories, Mr. Spencer
and his Circassian companions received a gratifvi™
proof of  the interest which all the  noma*K
Rutins! g8 6 bCtWeen   the   *****r3