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e in imports and exports by thousands lillioos." We have no recollection of having read a puff of a quack raediequal to this.

>me of the Secretary's figures are so ige, that we cannot make head or tail iem, and presume them to be misIs. Take for example the following:—

!y Uble BB, it appears that the augmeni of our domestic exports, exclusive of c. list voar, compared with the preceding

was 818,856,802, or upwards of 48 per , »nd, at the same rate per ceut. per annum lamentation, would amount in 1849, per

CC, to $329,959,993, or much greater

the domestic export from State to State. Ubles from 7 to 12, inclusive.) The fuper centage of increase may not be so

: bat oar capacity for such increased proDo is proved to exist, and that we could •h these exports far above the domestic >nd. if they could be exchanged free of ia the ports of all nations."

oe following paragraph looks very h as though the Secretary either had nie or was about to become a Fourier

IVhen all our capitalists (as some already ) shall surely find it to be their true interB addition to the wages paid to the Amerirorkman, to allow him voluntarily, because pnents the profits of capital, a fair interest *k profits, and elevate him to the rank of tner in the concern, we may then defy all Kution."

at whatever may be the meaning of we are inclined to believe that the etary's term of office is too short to lie him to convert the whole United es into phalanxes, groups and series, n this wise do the President and Secrj argue in favor of the tariff of 1846; the merits of that act are not confined lie reduction of duties. "It is not the reduced duties, that have proid these happy results, (says the Secry,) but the mode of reduction, the iUtatiou of the ad valorem for unequal oppressive minimums and specific duBut without quoting farther, it may itated generally, that both the Presit and Secretary assume the fact, as the «of their arguments, that a specific duty n ;in article which excludes it from our ket, is a tax upon the consumer of the do

mestic article to the full amount of the duty. Thus, a duty of ten cents a yard on cotton goods, which sell in our market for eight cents a yard, is nevertheless a tax on the poor consumer of the domestic article of ten cents a yard; and a duty of a dollar a pair on brogan shoes, would be a tax of a dollar a pair on American brogans, although they could be bought in any quantity for seventy-five cents a pair ; and so a duty of one dollar a bushel on wheat, would be a tax on the poor American laborer of one dollar a bushel on all the wheat with which he feeds his poor children, although fifty cents should be the highest price he ever paid for a bushel of wheat. Now this is all ad captandum vulgus, and the President and Secretary both know it, and although it might be tolerated on the stump, yet when gravely put forth from the high places they occupy, it is a disgrace to the Republic.

The Secretary also says, "The great argument for protection (by which ho means high duties) is, that by diminishing imports the balance of trade is turned in our favor, bringing specie into the country." If the Secretary does not know this to be an untruth, he is even a greater blockhead than we had supposed him to be. We have heard no such argument, by any intelligent advocate of either high duties or a protective tariff, in the last twenty-five years. That some very absurd arguments have been urged, both in and out of Congress, in favor of protecting duties, is very true, but Mr. Secreta^Walker must not assume that he refutes the policy of a protecting tariff, by refuting some of the arguments of its advocates. It is true, that the old school political economists advocated high duties, for the purpose of increasing the imports of specie, but Mr. Hume and Adam Smith showed the fallacy of that idea before our revolution, and the doctrine has never prevailed in this country among intelligent political economists. High duties are advocated by those who understand the subject, for the purpose of replenishing the treasury. Protecting duties are advocated for the purpose of increasing and extending the market for our products; for the purpose of securing to the farmers of Ohio, for example, a steady and sure market for all the products of their farms at their own door, instead of leaving them to seek a market across the Atlantic; for the purpose of enabling them to make their

exchanges in Cincinnati instead of Liver

• pool. Protecting duties may or may not

augment the revenue. If they afford complete protection, by excluding the foreign article altogether, they will not augment the revenue, because they will not increase the average of duty on the whole importation; but if the duty is raised, but not so high as to exclude the foreign article, the revenue will be replenished. It does not, however, follow, as the Secretary seems to suppose, that the general revenue will be increased by an increased revenue on a particular article. Protecting duties, therefore, may greatly increase and secure a market for our own products, without either increasing or diminishing the general revenue. The home market, notwithstanding all Mr. Secretary Walker may say to the contrary, is of three times the value to us, that the foreign is or even will be.

Two things are essential to commerce: goods for sale, and a market where they can be sold; in other words, sellers and buyers. If there be no goods for sale, there can be no market, and if there are no buyers there will be no goods for sale. But Mr. Secretary Walker seems to think that if we have plenty of buyers, no matter about the goods, they will come of themselves when wanted. Hence our exports are to equal thousands of millions as soon as free trade shall give us all the world for customers!

"The new tariff," says Mr. Secretary Walker, "is no longer an experiment; the problem is solved, and experience proves that the new system yields more revenue, enhances wages, and advances more rapidly the public prosperity," than the old system, we suppose, though the Secretary does not say so. The experience of a year of famine in Europe, with the most bountiful harvest ever known in this country, has, in the opinion of the Secretary, solved the problem. The experience of a single extraordinary year has overthrown the experience of a hundred preceding ordinary years! And although the revenue

from a hundred and fifty millions of expo under the tariff of 1S46, was lessthaat revenue from one hundred and two m ions under the tariff of 1842, yet < problem is solved, that the new spa produces more revenue than the old' 1 have no patience to reason longer with absurd a man, and therefore dismiss hi

We cannot, however, take our Wave the President, without expressms: < regret that he should have attempt*! disguise the truth in his late Mess^ Congress. His high station ought to hi placed him above all subterfuge or tri ery for the purpose of sustaining a far ite theory. This dirty work should h been left to the understrappers of party in Congress and out of it. ^1 he gave forth the responses of the Tr? ury department, he should have given *.!i forth fairly, and not have made one-^K statements. Why did he not confine hi self to the fiscal year ending the 30uN June last? Why lug in five months of following year? But if he thought proj to give the amount of revenue under! tariff of 1846, why did he not al»fj the imports and exports of that va Was he afraid that the people wouH i that the revenue under the tariff of I( was some ten or twelve millions of doU less than it would have been under the a of 1842? It almost surpasses belief, its man of common sense could be since^ the opinion, that a reduction of the id would increase the revenue ; yet it Cm be doubted, that President Polk an-3 party leaders were sincere in that opui or they never would have passed aa which would greatly reduce the revea at the same time that they entered nj an expensive war, which would, at Id double the expenses of the Govemnn

Had they doubled the duties wsxevi halving them, they would have zc\ much more like sensible men and pnu cal statesmen. The people will find i by and b}', that empirics and demaTM^ make expensive rulers. They will find the cheapest course in the end to pi) capable men at the head of their Gova ment. D. R

Cincinnati, Ohio.

JASMIN, THE BARBER POET.

>is Papillotas! Such is the title of two volumes of poetry we have before -a title which would be singular indeed, ; were not accounted for by the proion of the author. Jasmin is, indeed, Mjftw, and performs the menial offices lis profession with all the accuracy of igaro; but when his work is done, he t not, like so many of the brotherhood, id his time in laying in a stock of idal and gossip, which he may retail next morning, when standing behind chair of some fair lady, whose chief a;lit it often is, to listen to such stories. ! Jasmin, when he has laid aside his irs and his curling-tongs, devotes to Muses his hours of leisure. This cont between the vulgar occupation of poet of Agen, and the truly beautipoetry we find in his works, is parl«rly striking, in an age when poetry ns to have sought a refuge in the ler classes of society, and to have owe rather the passetemt of the man ortune than the conscientious expres

of a popular feeling. The class of Is to which Jasmin belongs is, at prcs

very limited. He is essentially a olar poet. Sprung from the lower srs of society, an artisan himself, he

in all his poetic effusions, addressed «lf to the multitude, not to the select • In former times it was not uncomi to find a poet thus devoted to the (rtainment and to the instruction of the *d. Judging of past ages, by means that knowledge of general facts which ory affords—for history deigns not to cend into the details of every private —we almost fancy that there was a e when poetry circulated in the world, freely as the air we breathe,—when *J man was a poet, if not to create, at rt to understand and to feel. When 1 atmosphere is full of mists and va*> objects seen at a distance appear

larger than nature ; so when we look back into the past, things become magnified, and we involuntarily exaggerate their dimensions. It is thus in the present case; but yet we think it may be said, that among the ancients, as well as during the middle ages, poetry was more widely diffused, and had a more direct and powerful influence on the destinies of mankind, than it has in modern times. The distance which separated the poet from those who listened to his verses, was then less great. Between them there seemed to be established an electric chain. He often borrowed from the people images, which he returned, after having given to them a new lustre, a new brilliancy, as the glass refracts the rays of the sun with increased intensity. The earlier Greek bards went from place to place reciting their verses, until they became indelibly engraved in the hearts of their hearers. In the middle ages, the minstrel, or the troubadour, was the favorite of all classes. In the castle of the feudal baron, he would arouse the ardent and chivalrous spirit of the guests assembled around the festive board, by the recital of the noble exploits of Arthur and his barons, or the valor of those devoted Christians, who crossed the seas to rescue the sepulchre of their Saviour from an infidel foe; or else he would bewail, in strains so pathetic, the untimely fate of some fair maiden, that every eye would be moistened with tears of pity and compassion. But it was not alone in the mansions of the great, that the voice of the poet was heard. The peasant, too, would lend an ear to his songs, and himself repeat them, to beguile the weary hours of labor; and, alas! how weary must those hours have been, when he knew that it was not he who was to enjoy the fruits of this labor, but his tyrannical master. How different is the occupation of the poet in our own times! Shut up in the narrow confines of a densely populated city, or at best, inhabiting some country-seat, in which he is fortunate indeed, if, at every hour of the day, the shrill whistle of a railroad train does not break in upbn his meditations, the only means he possesses of acting on his fellow-men, is the press—a powerful engine indeed, but how inferior, when the heart is to be touched, to the varied tones of the poet's voice when he recites his own verses. The poet, now, is the invisible being who sets the puppets on the stage in motion; in former days he was himself the actor. We may indeed be touched by the thoughts which he expresses, for there is a secret harmony between different minds, which enables them to communicate without any material intermediary; but still, we think that the poet, who addressed himself directly to the public, could more easily awaken deep emotions in the breast of his hearers. Let us not, however, be misapprehended. We would not be understood to express a regret for the past. This is but a simple statement of facts. We belong not to that class of worshippers of all that is gone by, who, in their admiration for what no longer exists, forget the beauties and the blessings of the present hour. The progress of civilization modifies everything. Poetry, in an age of material improvement, and of scientific discovery, cannot be the same as in an age when love and war seemed alone to reign in the world. But it may still, it does still exist, although modified in its manifestation. At a period of high intellectual culture, poetry must, of course, partake in some degree of the philosophical spirit of the times. Happy then, when it does not take the form of the stately and almost supernatural indifference of a Goethe, or the impassioned skepticism of a Byron! But even in these ages of improved civilization, the simple voice of pure and natural poetry is still at times heard. In an age of political and social reform, like our own, when all the idols of the past are falling, one by one, to the ground, there are still some poets, whose poetry flows on in a calm and tranquil stream, and fills the soul with nought but pure and healthful instructions. Nature delights in these contrasts. In a barren soil, she, at times, brings forth

La* Papillotas de Jasmin Coiffeur, Membre de la Societat de Sciencos et Arts d'Agen. Agen: 3,1S& 2vols.8vo. b

flowers; at the foot of the glaciers, s places verdant meadows and genial sprk as if to show that, even when she see to have become extinct, she can, by t secret forces of which she is the miflre arise with renovated vigor. Thus in a; of comparative barbarity, she often nopectedly bursts forth with astonishing fo and brilliancy; and in ages when c;r zation seems to have reached so hy! pinnacle, as to leave nothing more for i to do, she still asserts her power, i shows that she is greater than civiluau She is not particular either about the 2. in which genius is clothed. She iH spurns the glare of pure and elegant foi and pours her richest gifts into a recipi of more homely shape and material. H intellectual culture is not always the cessary companion of genius. It is: alone by the contemplation and stud* masterpieces, that the poet is enable* produce works of which he may say, w the great Roman poet,

"Exegi monumentum aere perennius."

Imitation is useless. The poet m it is true, borrow from others, but » that which he borrows must be nts created within him, if it is to go forth c poetic form. He must surround hire: by that spiritual solitude, in which 1 voice of the world may yet be heard, i in which it only reaches him in a pa and more hallowed tone. Such a p may well be found in the lower rank; society. There is, indeed, a youth force and vigor of intellect in those *b faculties have not been wasted on 1 vast a number of objects. Their thouc are concentrated on some few great poc Unincumbered by the immense mas* knowledge which ages have accumuUt' they can, when genius lends them win take the most bold and lofty flkrr. Such a child of nature is Jasmin, the b ber poet.

Jaques Jasmin, or Jaqueon Jansemin. he is called in his native patois,) was fain the year 1787 or 1788 at Agen. 1 father was a tailor, who, although he 1 not know how to write, composed aim all the principal couplets which were M in the popular festivities of the neighbori country. Jaques' father and mother wi both poor, but he was as happy as a prii m he was a child, for he had not yet nt the meaning of those two words— i and poor. Until the age of ten, he nt almost all his time in the open air ring with his little companions or cutting id. In the long winter evenings, he iltl sit at the family fireside on his idfother's knee and listen to those wonul stories which we all have heard as iron, but which in the child of genius

■ be said to be the first cause which flops the poetic inspiration with which is endowed. But these happy days d not last. One day, as he was playin the street, he saw his grandfather a to the hospital. "Why have you

us? Where are you going?" were boy's questions at this melancholy t. "To the hospital," was the reply; is there that the Jansemins must die." ! days afterwards the old man was no e. From that time Jasmin knew how r he was. How bitter was this expett to him! He felt no longer any inst in his childish pastimes. As he has self beautifully expressed it, if anyg drew from him a smile, it was but the pale rays of the sun on a rainy

■ One morning, however, he saw his her with a smiling countenance. What i had happened? She had succeeded lining admittance for him in a charity »l. In six months afterwards he A read; in six months more, he could >t in the celebration of mass; in ansr six months, he could sing the Cantrgo, and in two years from the time ■n lie first went to school he was ad*d into a seminary. Here, however, remained but six months. He was died from thence on account of a rather Mcious adventure with a peasant girl,

perhaps still more because he had a some sweetmeats belonging to the «tor of the establishment. The deir of his family was great at this unext*d event, for they had been furnished i bread at least once a week from the wary. They were now without money

without bread! But what will a Jier not do for her children! His Iher had a ring—her wedding ring: »old it, and the children had bread once ff• at least for a few days. He was r to learn a trade; he became the apatice of a hair-dresser, and as soon as

he could, opened a shop. His skill as a coiffeur, and, we may add, the charming verses which he had already composed, soon brought him customers. He married, and his wife, who at first objected to his wasting his time in writing poetry, soon urged him to do so when she found that this employment was likely to be profitable. He has since then been able to buy the house in which he lives. The first, perhaps, of his family, he has experienced that feeling of inward satisfaction which the right of possession is so apt to confer, when it has been purchased by the meritorious labors of the hand and the head. He now enjoys that honest mediocrity which seems to be the height of his worldly ambition. Such are the only circumstances of Jasmin's life- which we have been able to gather from the poetical autobiography entitled, "Mons Soubenis." The life of a poet is not always interesting. Not unfrcquently, its most striking features are the poetic flowers he has himself strewed on his path.

We have already said that Jasmin was a popular poet. To be this, in the true sense of the word, it is necessary to speak the language of the people. This Jasmin has understood. With the exception of two or three pieces in the collection we have before us, all his poems are written in his native patois. But he not only makes use of this language, he defends it against all attacks as the last distinguishing mark between his countrymen and the inhabitants of the rest of France. Among his poems, there is a reply to the discourse of a Mr. Dumon, member of the Chamber of Deputies, in which that gentleman, after having paid, it is true, a just tribute to the genius of the Gascon poet, said that it was not even desirable that the patois should be maintained. The reply of Jasmin is full of an ardent patriotic spirit, and is a noble defence of his native language.

"The greatest misfortune," he says, " which can befall a man in this world, is to see an aged mother, sick and infirm, stretched out on her bed and given over by the doctors. At her pillow, which we do not leave for an instant, our eye fixed on hers and our hand in her hand, we may for a day revive her languishing spirits; but alas! she lives to-day but to die to-morrow! This is not the case, however, with that

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