In Virginia an act had been passed in 1777, declaring that free negroes, and free negroes only, might be enlisted on the footing with white men. Great numbers of Virginians who wished to escape military service, caused their slaves to enlist, having tendered them to the recruiting-officers as substitutes for free persons, whose lot or duty it was to serve in the army, at the same time representing that these slaves were freemen. 'On the expiration of the term of enlistment, the former owners attempted to force them to return to a state of servitude, with equal disregard of the principles of justice and their own solemn promise.' The iniquity of such proceedings soon raised a storm of indignation, and the result was the passage of an Act of Emancipation, securing freedom to all slaves who had served their term in the war. Such are the principal facts collected in this remarkable and timely publication. It is needless to say that we commend it to the careful perusal of all who desire conclusive information on a most important subject. It is evident that we are going through nearly the same stages of timidity, ignorance, and blind conservatism which were passed by our forefathers, and shall come, if not too late, upon the same results. It is historically true that Washington apparently had in the beginning these scruples, but was among the first to lay them aside, and that experience taught him and many others the folly of scrupling to employ in regular warfare and in a regular way men who would otherwise aid the enemy. These are undeniable facts, well worth something more than mere reflection, and we accordingly commend the work in which they are set forth, with all our heart, to the reader. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 5: Historical Notes on the Employment of Negroes in the American Army of the Revolution. By George H. Moore. New-York: Charles T. Evans, 532 Broadway. Price, ten cents.] A MERCHANT'S STORY. 'All of which I saw, and part of which I was.' CHAPTER II. The clock of St. Paul's was sounding eight. Buttoning my outside coat closely about me--for it was a cold, stormy night in November--I descended the steps of the Astor House to visit, in the upper part of the city, the blue-eyed young woman who is looking over my shoulder while I write this--it was nearly twenty years ago, reader, but she is young yet! As I closed the outer door, a small voice at my elbow, in a tone broken by sobs, said: 'Sir--will you--please, sir--will you buy some ballads?' 'Ballads! a little fellow like you selling ballads at this time of night?' 'Yes, sir! I haven't sold only three all day, sir; do, please sir, _do_ buy some!' and as he stood under the one gas-burner which lit the hotel-porch, I saw that his eyes were red with weeping. 'Come inside, my little man; don't stand here in the cold. Who sends you out on such a night as this to sell ballads?'