Market-days in Philadelphia at that period, and long afterwards, were great attractions to the country-people, even apart from business. It was also customary to ring the bells of Christ Church on the evenings previous to “market-days” for the edification of the country-people, who had learned to look upon them—or at least to hear their sound—as more or less identified with our independence. There is a peculiar history attached to these bells. They were purchased in England at a cost of £900. There were eight of them, and their aggregate weight was eight thousand pounds, the tenor bell weighing eighteen hundred pounds. In 1777, fearful of their falling back again into English hands, they were taken down and conveyed to Allentown, Pennsylvania, for “_safe keeping_.” After the evacuation of the city they were replaced, and have been ringing joyfully ever since. They pealed forth in gladsome sounds when the old State-House Bell sounded its note to liberty, and in harmony they proclaimed it to the world. But did the world respond? Did it shake off the bonds which bound man to man by an iron chain? Did it “proclaim” alike to the African that freedom was his birthright? Alas! no; for although the Declaration of our Independence pronounced “all men equal,” yet a distinction was made in color, and, under that very document and the Constitution, slavery came in, to become in time, what it was in reality before, a curse. Years passed on; trade and traffic in human flesh continued, until the Almighty, in his wondrous mystery, brought about their emancipation in a manner that levelled the institution of slavery to the ground forever. But, alas! have we not as a people and a nation been severely punished? Established on a basis of crime and carried out in a spirit of fiendish ferocity, they dared call it a “divine institution.” For this fearful error on the part of those eminent men who framed that document, our country has suffered fearfully; but these bells and all other bells will peal once more under a new order of things, and truly as well as righteously “proclaim liberty throughout the land to all the people thereof.” Then will our land “be blest, Its branchy glories spreading o’er the West; No summer gourd, the wonder of a day, Born but to bloom, and then to fade away, A giant oak, it lifts its lofty form, Greens in the sun, and strengthens in the storm. Long in its shade shall children’s children come, And welcome earth’s poor wanderers to a home, Long shall it live, and every blast defy, Till Time’s last whirlwind sweep the vaulted sky.” _EARLY POSTS._ New York, like Pennsylvania, has its primitive postal history. The first postmaster at Schenectady was Dr. Eleazer Mosely, who died in 1833, aged seventy-three years. He established a post by raising subscriptions from the inhabitants, which operated very favorably; and the result was the carrying the mail by contract.