"Oh for lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade!''
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The Register of yesterday looks sckly. The
Editor expresses desire to leave the beaten paths
of partizan contention and ramble over the green
fields OF literature. Not so fast Mr.. Gales Have
you forgotten the Secret Circular and your threats
of rcvoIuion2 You are not free yet, nor are
your co-signcrs and co-agitators Tie future--'
look into it! 1t is dark, but you must meet it,
and not only it but the indignant denunciations of
those you have so long l06Ored TO deceive,


p. S. For a sweet and soothing editorial on
the American Autumn" see last Register The
Editor "pours out his whole soul" about the
beauties of the season. He is sick of politics.