New York again in Convulsions.
New York is making another attempt to frighten the
South from its propriety.
We verily believe that over that city, which has become drunk with prosperity and crime, the deep thunder cloud of Divine displeasure will erelong launch the bolts of righteous retribution.
If there be a God that judges the earth, it can not be, that a city which has no parallel in its rapid growth, a growth based on Southern productions, and at the same time has no equal in the moral and social corruption of its people, should be permitted to commit such a gigantic crime as it now contemplates, without overrunning the cup of Heaven's vengeance.
If aught could relieve the sombre picture which this perfidious and execrable city presents in its attitude towards the
South, it would be the absurd exaggeration of its power, the hideous grimaces and Falstaffian boastfulness with which it tries to intimidate the
Southern people.
Every reader must remember the verbose and grandiloquent style in which the late expedition to
Charleston was described by the New York press, and any one would have thought from those accounts that
Charleston was to be swallowed at a mouthful.
They sent the most powerful fleet ever collected in one squadron by the
United States; they sent six thousand fighting men, and every variety of munitions and equipments of war. And yet,
Major Anderson was made to surrender, and the mighty fleet stood off during the fight, and did not dare to land a man, nor fire a gun, nor raise a finger for his relief.
When New York utters "great, swelling words of vanity," men ought not to forget the late illustration, off
Charleston harbor, of promise and performance.
