The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-07-17 00:00:00

THE ADVANTAGES OF DEMOCRACY

In a charge delivered to the grand jury of the county of St.
Louis, in the United States, in which the republican judge
clearly expounded "that whether the grand jury should act at
all (in the case of a negro who, in a moment of popular excite-
ment, had been chained to a tree and burnt alive) depended
upon the solution of this preliminary question—namely, ,vhe-
ther the destruction of the negro was the act of the few or of
the many,"

" the republican judge, "the destruction of the
negro was the act of the many—of the multitude in the ordi-
nary sense of these words—not the act of numerable and as-
certainable malefactors, but of congregated thousands, seized
upon and impelled by that mysterious, metaphysical, and
almost electric frenzy, which in all ages and nations has-hur-
ried on the infuriated multitude to deeds of death and des-
truction—then, I say act not at all in the matter. The case
transcends your jurisdiction : it is beyond the reach of human
law ! * * * I repeat, if the thousands congregated
round the fire were the actors in this fearful tragedy it would
be impossible to punish, and absurd to attempt it. * * *
It seems to me, as I have already recommended, that, if you
arrive at the ultimate concluiion that the death of M•lntosh
(the negro) was the act of the multitude you will pursue the
safest and the wisest course in declining all action with it."
The moral distance between the democratic axiom that
the populace can do no wrong and the bold exhortation ad-
dressed to our British juries to allow nothing out of court to
influence their verdicts. is greater than that which separates
us fromthe antipodes. If from the bench of justice the pas-
sions of people are declared to be stronger than the powers
of the law, the irresponsible populace soon repudiates all
government except the tyranny of its own will. Thus, when
the American General Scott, lately sent by the federal go-
vernment of the United States to recover, if possible, the
cannons and muskets which had been plundered by citizens
of the United States from the American arsenals, appeared
before the inhabitants in Albany, he was, as the American
press termed it, "honoured by a public entertainment," at
which the following toast was given :—" The Sovereign
People, may their will be at all times implicitly obeyed by
their servanis."
Again: when General Rensellaer, commanding the Ame-
rican citizens who invaded Upper' Canada, was asked at
Yongston under what pretence of justice he could attempt
to make prisoner an individual in the British service whom
the American government was bound to respect, his followers
indignantly replied, "D
—n our government! the people are
the government! the government are the remnants of the
people !"
The law in the United States of America being unable to
restrain the passions of the people, it has naturally enough
followed that the licentiousness which is admitted even from
the bench to be the privilege of the people, is claimed by
each individual who composes the mass, and accordingly in.
several of the states every male inhabitant above the age of
14 or 16 carries in his own bosom a bowie-knife to enable
him to be the judge, jury, and executioner of his own law.
The American people are by nature no more addicted to
the crime of assassination than we are, but they are driven
to commit open'thurder because their laws have not sufficient
power to protect them.
When once 4 populace take to the knife, the horrors they
perpetrate are beyond description. In public as well as in
private society there is nothing which makes an Englishman
recoil so suddenly from his American brother as a glimpse of
the shining hilt of the dagger which the latter carries half-
concealed between his waistcoat and his shirt. For instance,
there was the tragedy lately perCormed on the floor of the
Commons House of Assembly of the state of Arkansas, where
the speaker, Colonel Wilson, taking offence at an observa-
tion made by Major Anthony, suddenly drew from his bosom
his bowie-knife, rose from his seat, walked towards his an-
tagonist through the members, who made way for him as he
passed, until, reaching his victim, be deliberately stabbed
him (Major Anthony) to the heart !--Kentish Observer.

John Prampton, a citizen of Bristol, was imprisoned two
years at Seville, and had his cargo confiscated, " be-
cause he pronounced Ave Maria in the Somerbetshire
dialect.''

MARY MORRIS;
A TALE OF THE PRINCIPALITY.

BY THOMAS SMITH.

" She loved not wisely it would seem,
Not wisely, but too well ;
With all of youth's romantic dream,
And passion's with'ring spell."
Mits. C. B. WILSON.

PART 1.-SPRING.

Many years have fled away since the writer of this tale was
in the fair old town of W—, in one of the northern counties
of the Principality of Wales; but the recollections of early
life are still as fresh and bright as youth itsdf; and at times
they flit as vividly and repeatedly o'er the mind as though
they were the occurrences but of yesterday; and as often as
memory sketches the outline, fancy is ever ready, with her
grateful touch, to fill it up—to work out the past realities of
human life—to complete the picture.
There is something particularly animating in the appear-
ance of a country town on a market-day in spring. Early in
the morning the inhabitants are awake and stirring; the
country folks may be seen flocking into townfrotn all quar-
ters, in all sorts of vehicles and on foot, loaded with the pro-
duce of the farm ; females, too, bustling along, with their
baskets hanging on their arms; others mounted on rough-
coated nags, trotting into town with as much nonchalance and
good humour, as though their journey was (and what it really
is to these buxom damsels) one of pleasure, and their con-
veyance a post-chaise and four. This scene certainly affords
a pleasing contrast to the otherwise general monotony of a
country town.

The town of \V— was in a state of great excitement, of
the above description, on a delightful morning in the spring
of 1800; the sun had nearly attained its meridian, and was
gliding the lantern turrets and crocketted pinnacles of the
elegant cathedral-like church, with its magnificent Gothic
architecture; the bells, from its lofty tower, sent forth a merry
peal of harmony—a relief to the noise and confusion in the
market-place; there was a great influx of people—gentle-
men, tradesmen, farmers, lads, and lasses—every one having
his or her individual object in view—business or pleasure, or
perhaps both. At that moment the attention of the throng
was suddenly directed to another part of the scene. A body
of cavalry had entered the town, and were turning up the
High-street. They were a fine set of fellows, especially one
who, from his commanding manner and his superior habili-
ments, appeared to be an officer, and until they passed on to
their quarters, business was entirely suspended.
. .

There had been a riot in the town and vicinity, arising out
of au election, in which the miners and pitmen had taken an
active part, i❑ consequence of the defeat of their favourite
candidate, and heated with drink. which was liberally sup-
plied to them, they vented their unbounded rage, by destroy-
ing the property and maltreating the persons of those who
were the most obnoxious to them, and who thwarted the views
of their vile employers. The authorities of W— endea-
voured,• in vain, to arrest the ringleaders and quell the dis-
turbances; and at length they were driven to the alternative
of calling in the military. The latter entered the town some
hours afterwards, in the manner above narrated. But the
place had been restored to its former tranquillity some time
previously—the insurgents had dispersed into the country,
having evidently rece►ved notice of the approach of the in i-
tary ; and the appearance of the marker, to a casual observer,
was the same as ►f nothing serious had happened.
Amongst others, whom curiosity or business had brought to
the market-place, was Mary Morris, thedaugliter ofa thriving
innkeeper. She was his first and only child. She had never
known her mother, who had died in Mary's infancy; but she
scarcely felt the loss of her parent, for her father loved her
tenderly. Hugh Morris had brought her up under his own
eye; and as she grew, she entwined herself so firmly around
her father's heart, that his life seemed almost insupportable
when she was absent.

Mary Morris had scarcely seen eighteen summers. She
was an unsophisticated child of nature; an artless, laughing
maid—ofa wild and romantic disposition; but withal endowed
with good sense. Her stature was of the middling height;
she had a pretty face, well set features, dark blue eves, and
auburn hair, which escaped in sportive ringlets from beneath
her gipsy hat; and in her smile she betrayed an archness of
express►on which rendered her doubly interesting and fasci-
nating. She was a favourite with the townspeoplegenerally;
and equally so with the country-folks, whose good opinion
she had won by her kind and affable disposition, and volatile
manner. Often might she be seen in the market-place, con-
versing with some motherly old dame, and evidently amusing
all with her giddy remarks; and o❑ the morning in question
she had been so engaged when, on a sudden, another object
arrested her attention. _ _

Mary's eyes followed the soldiers until they- passed from
her view, and for some moments she seemed thoughtful; but
she was soon roused from her reverie by the re-appearance of
one of the corps, who turned the corner of the High-street at
a smart pace, and approached the spot where she stood.
The stranger dismounted within a short distance of Mary,
and his horse was led away. He seemed to be a person of
superior manners; his person was tall and commanding, and
his military costume set it off to great advantage. He ap-
peared to be young, perhaps about five-and-twenty; his fea-
tures were handsome, yet manly; and his dark expressive
eves might have made a conquest of a less susceptible heart
titan that of Mary Morris. Th e officer approached, and fix-
ing is eyes on Mary, said, with a smile:—
" My pretty lass, can you inform me where the Inn is
situated ?"
A slight blush suffused the cheeks of the interesting girl'
"If you please, Sir, I will conduct you thither."
—That's a dear, good girl," said the soldier; and in an in-
stant her willing arm wasdrawn within his; and, with smiles
and compliments on his part, and blushes on her's, they
walked slowly away, amidst the remarks of the bystanders.
" Heaven bless her!" said the old woman, as Mary and
her companion turned the corner of the street; " she a good
girl, but I trow she's a bit too bold, look you, to trust herself
with a red-coat !" _

" Peace, dame!" said the young farmer, to whom the re-
mark was partly addressed; "she is merely showing him the
path to her father's :—there cannot be anything bold o: im-
pudent in that."
A deep sigh escaped the breast of the young man as he
spoke.