their finery to the enterprise of wanderers so humble.

Of course it is, as a rule, desirable that civilization, with all its processes, should replace barbarism. But it may be doubted whether, in many parts of Southern Europe, society has yet arrived at that stage in which it ought to dispense with pedlers. It is, however, a mere question of economy. The rent of shops, and the wages of an establishment, greatly, when trade is dull, augment the price of commodities, because the weight of such charges falls upon a few customers. When the demand is brisk, when money changes hands rapidly, when people throng to shops in crowds, it is possible to be content with a smaller profit, and society becomes a gainer perhaps for the suppression of nomadic traders.


infinite air breathing around him, and the stars
raining their influences upon his head from the sky.
It may be matter of wonder that the property
these men carry about with them-which, though
not great, must still be a temptation to dishonesty-
would not constantly expose them to the assaults of
robbers. The explanation perhaps is, that the state
of society which requires pedlers nourishes those
prejudices and feelings that operate as their pro-
tection. There is in Corsica and Sardinia, and
indeed in all other countries similarly circum-
stanced, a sort of superstition attached to the
pedler's character, which prevents even
desperate persons from attempting his life. He
makes his appearance among them trustingly and
fearlessly-for pedlers never
carry arms-and
wherever he comes, excites mirth and gayety in
young and old. He adorns the persons of their
wives and daughters, makes their children look
gay, and diffuses an air of cheerfulness and content-
ment through a whole village. Experience of
kindness from others makes him gentle and kind in
his turn. He is polished by rubbing against the
world, and learns at the same time resolution and
modesty. Full of stories and anecdotes of adven-
tures and hair-breadth escapes, he has a perpetual
fund of entertainment; and the cottage in which ho
passes the night is generally crowded with as many
neighbors as it will hold, who sit in a circle
around him, to listen to his narratives.

Occasionally, though not often, the pedler condescends to become the messenger of love, and bears from hamlet to hamlet tender epistles, which he himself perhaps has indited at the request of lover or mistress. At times he assumes the character of umpire and peacemaker, terminates quarrels, crushes the germs of lawsuits, and, by a timely present of no great value, makes up matches, and diffuses happiness through a whole class.

Frenchmen, even in their own country, are accustomed, when in poor circumstances, to subsist on a very homely and economical diet. Bread, a few onions, and a sip of sour wine, they almost regard as luxuries. The same habit and theory of living follow them into other countries, especially when, like our pedlers, their sole object is to save money, to provide for the comforts of their old age, or, if practicable, to enable them to marry in middle life, and undertake the responsibilities of a family. Of one luxury the pedler is careful not to deprive himself-we mean of a little provision of cigars-which he carries about with him, carefully wrapt in a bit of oil-skin, to protect them from the weather; and on the bleak, rocky mountains of Corsica and Sardinia, smoking is indeed a luxury. In civilized countries, in large cities, in capacious, comfortable, well-ventilated apartments, it may be a mere piece of extravagance to expend money on Havanas. It would seem to be otherwise in the cases under consideration. The pedler, on quitting his humble cabaret, or still more comfortless cottage, in the chill damp mornings, his teeth chat- Once, in Sardinia, at a village high up in the tering, his whole frame half-shrunk by the night's mountains, a pedler, whom we afterwards met in cold, experiences an agreeable elevation of spirits Genoa, arrived about Christmas during very severe the moment he takes out his flint and steel, and weather. A farmer, whose daughter was about to kindles his cigar. It serves him also as a com- be married, kindly invited him to make some stay panion as he puffs away, he fancies himself in at his house. The pedler accepted the invitation, friendly society, especially when the smoke and remained eight or ten days, kept a prisoner, as wreathes lovingly around him in some sheltered it were, by the hospitality of his host and a pernook or hollow in the way. Ease and opulence petual succession of snow-storms. He was present know nothing of such pleasures: everything with at the wedding, and at the merry-making given by them is comfort and regularity; but the wild way- the family in the evening, where he noticed among farer, with all his earthly possessions on his back, the guests a young man of rather handsome who carries at the same time his purse and his life appearance, who attracted much attention by the in his hands-who has to face the storms of winter gloomy fierceness of his manner. Towards most and the heats of summer-who is always lonely, persons he preserved a sullen silence; but he relaxed often sad, sometimes oppressed, dejected, and mis- with the pedler, laughed, and talked a great deal; erable derives gratification from small, and, it inquired what route he meant to take, and how long may be, equivocal pleasures, if smoking indeed be it was likely to be before he would be among them one of these. again.

Sometimes the track of the pedler lies through In due time the pedler quitted the farmhouse, and districts so desolate, that he can find at night no proceeded on his way. The country just there habitation, however humble, in which to take was very thinly inhabited, the woods frequent, and shelter, but must betake himself to some cavern or of considerable extent, and here and there were hollow among the rocks. Here his flint and steel caverns of various dimensions. In one of these the come into requisition. He gathers dry leaves and pedler one snowy night found himself compelled to bits of decayed wood, and kindles himself a fire, take refuge. He had had the precaution to take close to which he lies down, and enjoys the sem- some food with him; and, the cold being piercing blance at least of a summer dwelling; by the light he collected a quantity of wood, kindled a fire, and of it also he eats his humble supper-a little bread, sat down to enjoy his supper beside it. He had hard and dry crust of cheese, or a piece of anti-not taken many mouthfuls before he observed a mas quated sausage, with, it may be, an onion or two, or a clove or garlic. Water from the neighboring well or stream quenches his thirst; and then he betakes himself to sleep on the hard rock, with the

enter the cavern covered with snow, which he shook from him as he advanced. There was an immediate recognition: it was no other than the farmer's wedding-guest! He accosted the pedler

with a strange constrained civility-saying he was
come to sup, and spend the night with him.
"You are welcome," said the Frenchman with
as much self-command as he could assume.
"Perhaps, however," replied the Sardinian, "I
shall not continue to be so when I shall have
explained my errand ?”

"We shall see explain yourself."
"Listen, then."

all night; and in the morning we will separate, each to pursue his own way.'

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In the morning, as they were about to bid each other adieu, the Sardinian took out his dagger, and cutting off one of the buttons from his coat, handed it to the Fronchman, saying, "Take that and keep it till I restore you your money. Observe, it is of silver, and has been handed down in my family for many generations. I would not part with it for all "I listen proceed. But allow me first to offer you possess; and when I intend to repay you the you a little supper. Here, pray take a slice of hundred dollars, this is the course I shall pursue : German sausage and a little of this wine, which II will say I have lost my button, and will offer a have luckily brought along with me. Taste it; it hundred dollars to any one who shall find and bring is very good." it to me. You will present yourself: you will No," answered the Sardinian; "I will nei-produce the button; and I, as in honor bound, ther eat nor drink with you until I find whether it will give you the sum agreed on. Do we part will be necessary to kill you or not!" friends?"

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"Kill me?"

"Yes, you; unless you accede to the request I am about to make. Listen I am in love with a girl whose father will not give her to me unless I can prove myself to be in possession of one hundred dollars. Now I wish you to lend me that sum, which I will faithfully repay to you: not at any stated time, observe, for I may be unfortunate; but I swear to you here on this dagger that I will repay it sooner or later." And he held up the glittering | weapon in the light of the flames, ready to press it to his lips should the pedler accede to his request.

The Frenchman naturally felt exceedingly uncomfortable; for, from the savage aspect of his guest, he did not doubt he had reason to dread the


The Sardinian continued: "Should you be so foolish as to refuse me, I shall kill you, take all your property, marry, and make use of it. But because I am an honest man, I wish you in that case to tell me who is your nearest of kin in France, since it will be my most earnest endeavor to repay him the money as soon as Providence shall have put it in my power.

Here he paused, to observe what effect his words had produced on the pedler, who for some time was too much terrified to reply.

The pedler, who, notwithstanding his loss, could not but be amused by the strange character and ideas of the Sardinian, gave him his hand, and they parted friends.

Next year he passed the same way again, and sure enough found his friend married to a very pretty woman, who had already brought him a son. He seemed very happy; but coming up to the Frenchman, he said, "Now I have lost a button: I am not yet rich enough to buy one to replace it: I may be more lucky next year."

The pedler understood; and, after having been made very welcome at his house, went his way.

A second and a third year he returned, and every time found a young son or daughter added to the family. At length-pleased with his reception, with the constant hospitality shown him, with the pleasant wife and cheerful increasing family-he took the Sardinian aside, and presenting him with his button: "Allow me to restore you this article of yours, which I have found.”

"No, no," replied his host; "keep it another year: by that time I shall be able to redeem it, and at the same time to spend a very merry evening with you. Come this way next winter, and you shall see.'

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The months rolled round: the pedler, regular as the season, came again; and the Sardinian invited "Well," resumed the guest, " you are unde-him to supper. All the children had been sent to cided? It is just what I expected: it is very bed, and he and his wife only remained with their natural. However, I will stay all night with you, guest. that you may have time for reflection; because I would rather not kill you if I could help it. Still, I have made up my mind to be married next week, and I would kill fifty pedlers rather than postpone the ceremony."

"Under these circumstances," replied the Frenchman, "I must lend you the money, since I have no choice."

"You resolve wisely: you have no choice. One observation more, however, I must make, and then we will sit down comfortably to supper. It is this when you next come to our village, you will of course see me and my wife, and you will take up your residence with us in preference to any other persons. You will say nothing, however, of the present transaction, neither to her nor to any one else. You will not seem afraid of me, as indeed you need not be, but will be merry, and reckon confidently on being repaid the sum with which you now accommodate me."

All this the pedier promised.

"Now," exclaimed the young man, "give me your hand we are friends: let us sit down to supper. Afterwards you can reckon me out the money; we will keep up a good fire, and chat by it


Agatha," said he to her, "do you know that it is to your friend here that you are indebted for a husband?”

His wife looked surprised.

"I beg your pardon, dear Agatha," said he; "that is not what I ought to have said. I mean I am indebted to him for a wife, as it was he who supplied me with the hundred dollars, without which your father would have refused you to me."


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Oh, how heartily I thank you!" exclaimed the wife; for he is a good hushand and a good father." "But I robbed him," said the husband. He then related the whole circumstance, remarking at the conclusion, " I intrust my secret to you, Agatha, because my honor is as dear to you as my life. Here. friend," exclaimed he, placing a little bag on the table, "here are your hundred dollars; so now restore me my button, which you have doubtlessly kept carefully."

"Yes, here it is!" exclaimed the Frenchman, taking it from his purse; "and now we are even, except that I owe you much, very much, for the constant hospitality you have shown me."


Nay," replied the husband; “it is to you that I am indebted for my wife and children; you have

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Pedlers are sometimes generous. Taking up the bag of dollars, and turning to the wife, the Frenchman said, "Allow me, madam, to present this to your youngest child as a birthday present. I am in a condition to afford it. I have made much money in your country, and intend next year to marry, and retire to Provence, my native land."

The present was accepted; but the farmer, not to be outdone in generosity, forced on him next morning a handsome horse of considerably greater value. The same pedler had been engaged in many other little adventures, which he used to relate with that case and naïveté so characteristic of the French. We fell in with him just as he was about returning to Provence, where we daresay he still enjoys the property which he amassed with so much toil, honesty, and perseverance. The English merchants who supply this class of men are less prudent and economical, and commonly spend their whole gains in what is technically called "making an appearance." They, moreover, marry Italian women, settle at Genoa, and soon lose all desire to return to England. Thus deprived of the chief spur to economy, they contract indolent habits, and devote themselves to amusement and pleasure; and, while the men whose knapsacks they supply rise to independence, and often even to opulence, contract debts and embarrassments, and terminate their lives in poverty. Of course there are exceptions to this rule. But it is the rule, we fear, in Northern Italy, where, through a superior agency, a much larger amount of British goods might be annually distributed, especially if our manufacturers could study the taste of the people, and supply them with the colors and patterns most agreeable to them. On the coast of Spain the operations of the French knapsack-men are encountered and checked by smugglers from Gibraltar. Still, in both cases, the goods are chiefly English; so that, as a people, it is immaterial to us through which of these channels they find their way into the Spanish market.

From the Anti-Slavery Standard.


THE snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night

Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.
Every pine and fir and hemlock

Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch-deep with pearl.

From sheds new roofed with Carrara,

Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,

The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,
And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn,
Where a little head-stone stood,
How the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,

Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?" And I told of the good Allfather

Who cares for us all below.

Again I looked at the snowfall,

And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
The scar of that deep-stabbed woe.
And again to the child I whispered,
"The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father,
Alone can make it fall!"

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her,
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister
Folded close under deepening snow.

J. R. L.

From the National Fra



THE wind is sighing,
The snow deep lying,
With crisp ice covered

On the frozen ground.

No sky appearing,
No sunbeam cheering,
But pale clouds rolling,
Rolling round.

The tall trees shiver,
By the creaking river,
Where oft the icicles

Shrilly fall,

From cliffs o'er bending,
From boughs descending,
With snow full laden,
Leafless all.

'Tis gloomier growing;
The wind is blowing
Stronger, louder,

Through the night,

A blank of sadness:
Yet, for gladness,
Seeks my spirit-
Lo! 't is light!

The fire is burning,
The taper turning
The fearful darkness
Back to day.

Books surround me;
Joy hath found me;
Drear December
Steals away.

Washington, December 17, 1849.

From the Independent.


So much is this felt to be the case, that it is com monly asserted, on the part of the conservatives, that the whole originated, and still centres, in them. Of course this is an exaggeration; but the general prevalence and the felt strength of the assertion lie Ir would be scarcely possible for any man, in the acknowledged fact, that if their influence having a heart capable of human emotion, to has not been exclusive, it has been very great. A ascend the tower of observation with Lucretius, large majority of the democratic societies have and while the storm is still raging and multiplying Jews for their leaders and chief speakers. If its victims, attempt to estimate the havoc which has in these unions the ascendency in talent, tact, and, smaller in point of numbers, they have generally been made, and to count the numbers of the dying what is of equal importance in such times-daring. and the dead which strew the storm-lashed and The two levers of greatest power at present in the wreck-strewn shore. Neither may we look upon political world, are money and the press. In bleeding and agonizing nations in order to count respect to the former, the Jews have had long the their throes and speculate upon the probabilities supremacy. They rule the exchange in the greater of life and death. But we may, with a deep part of Europe. Even governments have been though calm and sad interest, fix attention for known to tremble in the ante-chamber of a Jew. awhile upon some who are monuments of sin and of suffering, who have endured and still endure a discipline unexampled in the history of nations, and yet without the ends of the correction being



A few months since the Jew in Rome rejoiced in his emancipation; now the degrading and infamous Ghetto again incloses him. Yesterday, in Germany, the Jew held his head aloft, and in his pride and ambition was willing to accept political equality and an open path to Jewish ascendency in exchange for a worn-out faith in a Messiah to Yes, some who were looking to Christianity to mere nominal and despised Christianity as a means of escape from political and social inferiority into the region of influence and power, gladly accepted the alternative which revolution and political change offered to them. In these new circumstances they needed not the aid of Christianity in order to their advancement, and as little desired or expected any other Messiah. So of the Jew in Hungary. In the firm establishment of the national independence he saw the means of realizing Jewish hopes and aspirations. How have these hopes been dashed! At this hour the Jews of Hungary, as one man, are stripped and peeled with a remorseless ferocity, at least equal to that to which he was subjected by the robber baron of the middle ages, who wrung by torture from the Jew the last remnant of his wealth. But it is not a mere blind ferocity or the greed of wealth which leads the butcherly Haynau to despoil and trample upon the Jew. The active and powerful Jewish intellect has been the precursor of revolutions. Jewish energy and daring have been conspicuous in the actual struggle. These facts are imperfectly understood even now, although a slight acquaintance with the state of society in Germany and an intelligent observation of the course of events during the last few months supply sufficient evidence of their truth. In a highly interesting paper prepared by Rev. Mr. Smith, of the Free Church of Scotland, who was some time in Germany, the following statement is made:

The Jews have taken a leading hand in all the late revolutionary movements on the continent.

But the press of continental Europe is no less in Jewish hands; every department of periodical laborers. In the majority of cases, the newspaper literature, more especially, swarms with Jewish press is conducted by Jews, as editors, sub-editors, and occasional contributors. The correspondence is almost entirely managed by them. These men are, without doubt, the leaders of public opinion on the continent, and are covertly, or more openly, as it suits the circumstances of the moment, undermining at once the national institutions and the national faith.

The absolutist spirit of the London Quarterly Review would naturally excite distrust and watchfulness regarding its statements, but the facts contained in the following extract are beyond question:


Nor should we omit to mention another influential body who have played a distinguished part in all the revolutions of Germany-we mean the Jews. At least one third, if not one half, of the public journals in Germany have for a long time In Austria, been conducted by Jewish editors. have been Jews. Dr. Jellinck, for instance, who the most forward among the extreme democrats was executed with Dr. Bekker on the 23d November of last year, at Vienna, and whose journal had been an organ of the Red party since the month of March last, appears to have been a Jew, born on the frontiers of Moravia and Hungary. refugees in Paris, both occupying a prominent names of Börne and Heine, both of whom died position in the most advanced section of revolutionary writers, are doubtless familiar to our readers. Both of these daring adventurers were Jews. In Austria, the Jews have of late played so prominent a part in revolutionary politics, that out of ten leading men six or eight will be found to belong to that nation. In Prussia, likewise, the most violent in the chamber at Berlin is Jacobi, a member of journals are in the hands of the Jews, whose leader the extreme left.

Such is the remarkable aspect which the Jew presents when contemplated merely in his position in respect to the nations of Europe. By his intellectual power and superiority he guides opinions; by his boldness and daring courage he gives force to actual insurrection. But while arrested by this spectacle, and led to ponder on a multitude of thoughts, the Christian man, the Gentile graft of the wild olive-tree, would fain look deeper into

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the Jewish mind, and with solemn questionings | the term "Phanuel." M. D'Abbadie has brought inquire, what now is the religion of the Jew? How does he view his ancient faith? Is he drawing nearer to the Hope of Israel and the Saviour thereof? Will he indeed look upon Him whom he hath pierced and mourn? Or is that deeper darkness which precedes the dawn settling down upon his mind ?

With the permission of The Independent, a few thoughts, or half thoughts, on these questions will probably be offered in a future communication.


with him copies of these books. He further learned from his informant that to the south of their country, in the country of the Gazoo, there was a Jewish kingdom; a statement confirmed to our traveller by other evidence, altogether independent of that of the Halashahs. He also said that he met in Abyssinia a most interesting native Jewish youth, who was most anxious to go to Europe, in order to acquire there correct notions on Judaism, which, on his return to his native country, might be propagated among his brethren. This youth made M. D'Abbadie solemnly promise that he would endeavor to interest European Jews for that object, and inform him of the result within a twelvemonth.

The traveller regretted his want of acquaintance with Jews, which he was afraid would render his exertions abortive. AGRICOLA.

One of the brothers D'Abbadie, the well-known African travellers, has recently passed through London on his return from Abyssinia, where he has been during the last eleven years. While in London he communicated to an Israelite some particulars relating to the Jews in Abyssinia, which GEOGRAPHICAL AND ETHNOLOGICAL CONSIDER

are not without interest :

The Halashahs (strangers) are held in abhorrence by the Abyssinians, and when their chiefs came to M. D'Abbadie the Abyssinians fled, being afraid of contracting an impurity by coming into contact with individuals of that hated race. In the conference which the French traveller held with them, he laid before them a letter addressed to him by the well-known Italian Hebrew scholar, S. D. Luzzato, containing various questions bearing on Jewish matters. The letter, originally written in French, had been translated by M. D'Abbadie into Ethiopic. The traveller carefully wrote down their replies, and intends to publish them in some French paper. The Halashahs appear to entertain some extraordinary religious notions, altogether incompatible with Judaism as understood by the other Jews. They hold celibacy in high honor; and when asked in what part of the Bible that state was recommended, they point to the example of the prophet Elijah, who, according to their opinion, was never married, no allusion being made in his history either to his wife or children. They also consider suicide from religious motives as highly meritorious. Persons disposed to sacrifice their lives repair to the brink of a river, and there solemnly inquire of God whether their end is come or not. If the signs taken as a reply be in the affirmative, suicide is committed; but if the reply be in the negative, they wait for a twelvemonth, when the same inquiries are again made.


They are totally unacquainted with Hebrew, and read the Scriptures in their native language, into which, according to M. D'Abbadie, they were translated from the Arabic. Besides the books held by all Jews as authoritative, they also consider the Apocrypha as sacred. These books, in as far as they were examined by our traveller, perfectly agree with the Vulgate, except the book of the Maccabees, in which he discovered great crepancies. They also possess a commentary on each of the sacred books, except the book of Ezekiel, which has been lost. In addition to the five books of Moses, they possess a sixth, which they call "Coofaclaw." The names of the other books agree with ours, and appear therefore to be Ethiopic translations of the Greek words, “Genesis, Exodus," &c. In their liturgy, however, which is also in Ethiopic, M. D'Abbadie thought a good Hebrew scholar might trace many Hebrew words. Among others, he remembered to have found in it



A RIVER that runs east or west crosses no parallels of latitude, consequently, as it flows towards the sea, it does not change its climate, and, being in the same climate, the crops that are cultivated at its mouth are grown also at its sources, and from one end to the other of it there is no variety of productions; it is all wheat and corn, or wine, or oil, or some other staple. Assorted cargoes, therefore, cannot be made up from the produce which such a river brings down to market.

On the other hand, a river that runs north or south crosses parallels of latitude; changes its climate at every turn; and as the traveller descends it, he sees every day new agricultural staples abounding. Such a river bears down to the sea a variety of productions, some of which some one or another of the different nations of the earth is sure to want, and for which each one will send to the markets at its mouth, or the port whence they are distributed over the world. The assortments of merchandise afforded by such a river are the life of commerce. They give it energy, activity, and scope. Such a river is the Mississippi, and the Mississippi is the only such

river in the world.


But the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea-call them the intertropical sea of America, for they are in fact but one sea-are supported by the most magnificent system of river basins in the world, and the grandest back country on the face of the earth. The rivers which empty into this American sea drain more back country than do all the seas of Europe; and they drain more climates than do all the other rivers which empty into any one of the three great oceans.

This intertropical sea is the receptacle and outlet for all the variety of produce that is known to the climates and soils of seventy degrees of

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