They are all Southrons at heart. Did not the venerable John Bell, only the other day, when he was offered a safe conduct by Federal forces out of Dixie, prefer to remain there? Of course he did. _Ubi bene ibi patria._ We feel and know instinctively where they belong and what they are, these men whose inordinate vanity of respectability so far outweighs their sense of truth, honor, and manhood. Very well taken off are they in a happy hit--author to us unknown--setting forth what they would have agreed on in convention had they lived at the time of the first murder: '_Resolved_, That we are equally opposed to the pretended piety and evident fanaticism of Abel and the authorized violence of the high-toned and chivalrous Cain. '_Resolved_, That the 'Ultras' who are clamoring for the hanging of Cain, which would only exasperate him, desire to destroy the domestic happiness and peace of the family, and have no other purpose in view. '_Resolved_, That we are in favor of punishing both parties, and invite all conservative men to unite with us in frowning down this whole business. '_Resolved_, That nobody has a right to provoke murder, and if Abel had exhibited less fanaticism this one never would have occurred.' * * * * * _Apropos_ of which subject and which men, we are reminded of a rough and ready poem by William Higgins: THE COMPROMISER. A cross between a man and slave This mongrel thing produces, Who deems himself ordained to save The Union by sham truces. In strife between the Wrong and Right To hold the nation's border, Ashamed to run, afraid to fight, He faintly squeaks out 'Order!' The boasted friend of quiet, peace, He'd quell all agitation, By giving Satan longer lease Of earth, to damn the nation. No matter, though the Scriptures teach The golden rule of action, He says 'tis but a fancy speech, And proves it to a fraction! He knows no 'Higher Law,' but thinks State Rights the Catechism; Which having learned by rote, he links His practice to his schism. And thus is fitted to proclaim, With all his might and vigor, Nor feel a single blush of shame, 'That chains become a nigger!' With him, Religion is a boon, That Slavery may diddle; God's laws to those of John Calhoun, Play only second-fiddle! The faith for which his fathers bled, And died to make him heir to, He quite ignores, and takes instead That leading God knows where to. O compromiser! what a gleam Of glory hangs about you! No wonder that you proudly deem The world would spoil without you! With supple knees to slavery bent, Your conscience hangs on hinges, And gives mild treason easy vent, Despite compunction's twinges! Rude but true. And these be times for truth, however rude. * * * * * The New-York Evangelist: