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CHRONICLE and pENTINEL.
* alm: V S T A .
“ i 1
SATURDAY MORNING, 'EBRUARY 15. (
Virginia and Ne|r York* (
It will be remembered by lur reader* that a ,
controversy has arisen between the two States (
whose name* ftar.d at the hetji of this article, ex ,
actly similar to m»w that pending bet we. n « Jgi (
and Maine. We commend the peruaa o our
readers, the followng e.tmct from the proceed
ing. of the Virgini. Legislature, «■
that controrersT. It wi" be acn that an enti J
different couree from that ptopomtd to oor Legts
latore is commended to the Legtslatare of V.r
ginia by the Committee to wkpro the matter was
referred. Our 'readers will Remember that we
did not concur in the cour a of policy recom
mended to our Legislature in Ration to the diffi
culty with Maine, and rccoro! tended too by some
of our own personal and p Ut ical friends, for
whose opinions upon aK subj|ts we entertain the
most profound respect. We&hought the course
proposed on that occasion t o harsh; we think
that proposed by The Commi ee of the \ irgima
Legislature equally ineffici nt. Without ex
pressing any further opinion fipon the subject we
commend to our readers the e| tract referred to.
General Assembly <K Virginia.
Satchiut* February 8.
%„ . A
HOUSE OF
Mr. Bayly, from the select (loinajittce io whom
bo much of the Governor's Ivll fisage as relates to
the correspondence between J the Executive of
Virginia and the Governor ;*f New \ ork bad
been referred, presented a Ion) report, which was
laid upon the table and ordeuSi to be printed.
Mr. B. assigned the reason*|ior the delay which
had occurred in making out fie report. It con
cluded in the following manrir:
“Your committee cannot clvse this report with
out expressing in high terms Sts cordial approba
tion of the conduct of the Eifccutive of Virginia
in relation to this controversyfwith New \ork.
“Your committee recomm' id the adoption of
the following resolutions: I
*•1, Resolved, That the reasons assigned by
the Governor of New York fcl his refusal to sur
render Peter Johnson, Edwarf Smith, and Isaac
Gansy, as fugitives from jus|ce, upon the de
mand of the Executive of thi» State, are unsat
isfactory ; and that that refiial was a palpable
and dangerous disregard, on ti»; part of the Gov
ernor of New York, of his du|?s under the Con
stitution of the United Stales^
_ U!U “2. Resolved , That the course of the Execu
f live of New York cannot be ;*iquiesced in.
“3. Revolved, That the c»|irse of the Execu
-»r tive of New York, if pcrseve|d in, will make it
’ the solemn duty of Virginia i> appeal from the
cancelled obligation of the constitutional compact,
to her reserved rights. J
“4. Resolved, That the Gofernor of this State
be authorized and requested si; renew his corres
pondence with the Exccutivilot New York, re
questing that that functional-' will review the
grounds taken by him ; and t|at he will urge the
consideration of the subject u* on the Legislature
of his State. ;
“5. Resolved, That the Governor of Virginia
be requested to open a correspondence with the
Executives of each of the si tve-holding States,
requesting their co-operatioi in any necessary
and proper measure of redrl s», which Virginia
may be forced to adopt.
“ ff. Resolved , That the G| vernor of Virginia
be requested te lorward copii , of these proceed
ings to the executive of earfi fdate of this Union,
with the request that they be aid before their re
spective Legislatures.”
may next. j. ne or was then passed
without division, in the follow ng form :
“ Bs it enacted. That if at f person shall bet
or wager upon any election or ppointment to of
fice tol>e made under the autf rity of ti e laws of
. this Commonwealth or of the United States, or
both, or shall bet or wager upoi , any result or re
sults of such election, whether l such bet or wager
be of money or other thing, c the value of one
dollar or upwards, he. shall upc <\ conviction therc
of, be guilty ot unlawful gam ijg; and for every
such offence shall forfeit am pay the sum of
twenty dollars, to he recove. d in any of the
inodes prescribed by the act < ititled “An act to
reduce into one, the several a ts to prevent un
lawful gaming;” and in every rase of conviction,
an attorney’s fee of twenty doi irs shall be taxed
in the bill of costs.
This act shall be in fiTcef'rom and after the
first day of May |
G*?r. R. ’Jt, Hatwb.—An I ration commemo
rative of this distinguished gei ileman was deliv.
ered hy the Hon. Geo. McDuffi , to a very nume
rous audience, in the city of Ch rlestonon Thurs'
day. The Courier speaks of i as an able and
eloquent eulogy, but complains tat it partook too
much of a party character. It i to be published.
\ ——
The New York Gazette spea a of a self-acting
alarm bell in case of fire, which iw recently been
invented in that city. The bel attached to a ma
chine, will ring whenever the eat reaches 120
deg. ot Fahrenheit, or it may b jp-aded to a low
•r temperature. One can be pis ed in every room
in a house. The operation •? < used by the ex
pansion of a metallic plate, subje ted to the action
of the temperature. The whole cost of apparat
us for the largest building is $4(
The Legislature of Alabam have passed a
Resolution directing a stay ofe coitions by the
State Bank of Alabama and oth« Banking Insti
tut ion sin that State. The rea. assigned for
this measure is the unusually dr season having
prevented the people from carryi g their crops to
market and realizing m any wa j their profits on
the same. I
Thk Northern Frontier. -It i s not gen
•ally known (says the N.Y.St r} that orders
have been transmuted by the I itish Govern
ment to the authorites in Upper ; id Lower Can
«da and Nava Scotia, to place L a whole line in
»n immediate stale of defence; a d fortifications
and redoubts will be erected frot Mackinaw to
Passamaquoddy. The principal mints, we have
no doubt, will be on the coasts of Lake Erie and
Ontario on the St. Lawrence a, 1 the N. East
ern Boundary. 1» .
, . ' already said ;hat extensive
barracks are in progress of
r e»s ot erectio opposite De
trail; that Fort Malden is bo injJ ,
■r f Tr b „" t r Ch,p — •
of im-wruoc. m ihe ptannee ol v,_ „
wiU. .. BruM-
Southern USSmT so
The January and February Nos. (und« one h,
covar) of lids excellent period.cal, are receired. p ,
A publication which ha. always bM! ' i OO4 - »<
rlably good, and which we h... often pratsed. .
needs not a particular notice ot tbia time. There
is one article, however, in this number, which we u
design to publish in txtemu, from the pen of r j
Conwav Robiksok, Esq. of Richmond, \ a.,
entitled “ Slavery and the Constitution ” worthy
of the perusal and reflection of the patriotic por- g
tion of every section of our confederacy.
The Baltimore Patriot states that the Rev. R. c
J. Breckcnridge, of the 2d Presbyterian Church,
of Baltimore, has been elected to the ofEce of c
President of Transylvania University, at Lexing- t
K
ton, Ky. t
L
The Southern Ladies’ Book. s
The first number of this new Southera pen- t
odical was received by the last mail. Its contents {
argue well of its future usefulness and ability.—
The typographical execution is not so good as we
presume it is intended to make it; and may per- }
haps may be attributed to haste in getting it out.
We ardently hope that it will succeed, and re. 1
commend it to the patronage of the literary pub-
pc of Georgia. We copy from it the following ,
lines :
Woman*
BY THE HOIf. ROBERT M. CHARLTON. (
We woo the life-long bridal kiss.” 1
Angel of Earth ! oh, what were life !
Without thy form—without thy smile f ;
A circle of despair and strife, ‘
Os toil, of misery, and guile;
Like mi-ts before the morning’s ray, t
As from the snare, the timid dove, ,
So flee the cares of man away, ]
Beneath thy kind and gentle love. (
Was Eden lost because of thee ! !
Have heroes left a laurel crown, *
That they might bend the willing knee, <
At dearer shrine than man’s renown !
Oh, who would sigli for all the pain,
That loss like this could e’er impart,
If h, vere only sure to gain, j
i he Eden of a Woman's heart! 1
Mother ! can mortal e’er repay 1
Thy all devoted sacrifice ;
Thy care, that lasts thro’ night and day.
Thy love, that never, never dies !
In childhood’s hour, in manhood’s prime.
When Age comes on with slew decay.
In joy, in sorrow, and in crime,
Still beams thy fond affection’s ray !J ,
Daughter! The Roman girl of old,
Who from her maiden bosom nursed,
The sire, whom dungeons vile did hold.
Tortured by famine and by thirst,
Shall illustrate thy filial love,
Which can the drooping soul sustain,
Like manna showered from above
Upon Aarabia’s arid plain.
Sister I The mate of childhood’s hour.
When life was young, and fresh, and green ;
The comforter when cares did lower.
The sharer in each joyous scene ;
What dearer tie, what purer love
Can we around our hearts entwine,
(Save that which beameth from above,)
Than this abiding love of thine !
Yes! there’s another form whose charm,
Doth in itself completely blend,
The kind affections, pure and warm
Os Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend !
Wife Oh ! the poet’s task is vain
• thy spell, thy comfort, to portray ;
As well might painter strive to gain
The glory of the morning’s ray !
Angel of Life ! I would not give
This ever-faithful love of thine,
P»r oil thxx inv« nn liv«»
/seek no dearer earthly shrine.
Than that which holds a Woman's heart7
Savannah, Georgia. November, 1839.
From the Savannah Georgian of Wednesday.
The Settlement of Georgia.
The recurrence of this day awakens in the bo
soms of Georgians, those local feelings which
should never be merged in the exciting cares
which attend our daily avocations.
The history of days gone by, teaching in their
eventful pages the lessons which experience incul
cates, must, when dwelt upon, whether in the
closet or in public assemblies, enlighten our minds
as to the difficulties and perils which encompass
ed the pioneers to the then remote regions of this
W'estern World, and which attended the founda
tion, in wilds trodden by the foot of the uncivil
ized aboriginees, of a community destined to be
come a great and powerful State.
The sp rit of philanthropy which guided Ogle
thorpe wir,h his little band of followers, to the bluff
of our own Savannah, would have derived a
heightened impulse, could the veil of futurity
have been raised and that prosperity revealed
which now encircles (he descendants of those,
against whom, children of his adoption, he
refused to wield the brand of parental tyranny,
which sought to make him the instrument of des
olating these groves he had planted, and exter
minating the asylum reared by his hand, and
nourished by his fatherly care. The lofty pines
which fell before the vigorous arm of the adven
turer have long since yielded lh«ir places to the
edifices of civilization ; and the forest, which re
sounded with the whar-whoop of Tomichichi. re
claimed from Nature, has put on the garb of Art,
and hosannas, in joyful acclamation, ascend from
the sacred temples which the gratitude of man
has erected in our midst.
The canoes which danced in wild but steady
motion over the waves of the Savannah, urged
by the rude piddle of the red man,
and the lofty masts of ships, of almost every na
tion or people, ride in their stead, freighted either
with the products of the soil, or bearing the valu
able returns of merchandise which active com
merce brines tc our shores.
The bluff, at the wharves of which they are
moored, is the landing place of our forefathers,—
Cherished it should be, as the Plymouth Rock is
by the descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers of
New England. The adventurers of 1620 sought
the cold clime of New England, that they might
enjoy liberty of conscience. '
The adventurers of 1733 landed at Yamacraw
to seek a subsistence denied them, for the most
part, in their native land, and to present in their
persons, a barrier for the inhabitants of South Car
olina, against the incursions of the Indians and
other foes.
But sprung from the same line of ancestry from
which the P Igrims of Plymouth drew their life,
their descent ants were directed by the same en
thusiastic love of liberty which impelled the Mas- I
sachusetts Colonists to resist pa.ental tyranny, i
and at the dawn of the Revolution which severed 1 1
us, as a people, from the mother country, they ! i
heard and responded to the cry from Fancuff i
Vi h ° WtaS ’ u the infiint Her ‘'«les, their fu- I
tore vigorous manhood. The powder which some
gallant spirits captured from a man-of-war of the I
enemy, in the waters ofour own Savannah, trans
milted to Boston, as a free will offering ftom in- I 1
fant Georgia, uttered in loud tones the defiance
of a people united against submission. 1
Georgia has assumed the vigor of‘manhood’s °
prime. Forty-two years only after Oglethorpe’s ]
%
xHstcps had imprinted her soil, her name w«*
card and respected in the council* 9I the Coqfel
racy. -Now; otte hundred and seven years have
ias4d, and her thousands of free citizens, inapell
d by the same love of country which inspit ed
heir ancestors, congregate at the ballot-bo** at
egul.tr periods, to choose their representatives to
he National and Slate Legislatures, while the
rack of the Indian which once foretokened a hor
id death to the citizen, has been beaten out by
he footsteps of another race, who have banished
hem to distant regions.
We, then, have entered oh another road to
greatness, for the land occupied by the aboriginal
settler, is now possessed by his successor, and
•he fruits of civilization must rapidly follow the
change. ,
Have we not then, as Georgians, every incen
tive to cheer us on in our efforts to improve our
condition and that of those generations who are
to benefit by our energy ? Shall we not, as Amer
icans, rally around our free institutions, and stifle
those party feelings which divide men who should
be brethren in feeling as in principle, pledge our
selves to advance our Country and our State to
of greatness which will bless the ef
forts of her sons 1
Aegietis.—This African city is brought into
notice at the present time, and a few words res
pecting it will not come amiss.
It is in about the same latitude with Norfolk,
Va., and in about the same longitude with Tans.
It lies on a beautiful bay, which is about fifteen
miles in circuit, and where there is fine anchor
age. The ground on which the city stands rises
from the shore with a pretty sadden ascent. The
wall which surrounds Algiers is thirty feet high
and twelve thick, and about a mile and a half in
circuit. Cannon are so planted as to render the
approach of a hostile ship very difficult. The
houses are of brick or stone, with flat 1 oofs ; and
the city is so closely built that one may pass fiom
one part of it to another on the tops of the
buildings.
The French bombarded and took Algiers on
the sth of July, 1830. It has for ages been the
abode of a mixed population, and a den of pirates.
Many a time have these outlaws suffered severe
chastisement, and brought to terms, as they were
by our Decatur; but they seem not to brook re
straint, and France will find it hard to keep them
quiet.
In former times the wealth and power of the
Algerines were much overrated. They will be
put down by France, and we fear will gain little
from being subject to a Christian power. Would
that they and all other nations were capable of
taking care of themselves.
The Spanish Student.
On the fourth day of our journey we dined at
Manzauares, in an old sombre-looking inn, which,
I think, some centuries back must have been the
dwelling of a grandee. A wide gateway admit
ted us into the inn yard, which was a paved
court, in the centre of the edifice, surrounded by
a colonnade, and open to the sky above. Beneath
this colonnade we were shaved by the village bar
ber, a supple, smooth-faced Figaro, with a brazen
laver and a gray montera cap. There, too, we
dined in the open air, with bread as white as
snow, and the rich, red wine of Valdepenas; and
there, in the listlessness of after dinner, smoked
the sleep inviting cigar, while in the court-yard
before us the muleteers danced a fandango with
the maids of the inn, to the Ibud music which
three blind musicians drew from a violin, a guitar,
and a clarionet. When this scene was over, and
the blind men had grouped their way out of the
yard, I fell into a delicious slumber, from which
I was soon awakened by music of another kind.
It was a clear youthful voice, singing a national
song to the sound of a guitar. I opened my
eyes, and near me stood a tall, graceful figure,
leaning against one of the pillars of the colonnade,
in the attitude of a serenader. His dress Was that
of a Spanish student. He wore a black, gown
and cassock, a pair of shoes made of an ex-pair
of boots, and a hat in the shape of a half moon,
with the handle of a wooden spoon sticking out
fllb Agar?—
The stranger made a leg, and accepted these signs
of good company with the easy air of a man who
is accustomed to earn his livelihood by book or
by crook ; and as the wine was of that stark and
generous kind which readily ‘ascends into the
brain,’ our gentleman with the half moon hat
grew garrulous and full of anecdote, arjd soon
told us his own story, beginning with bis birth
and parentage, like the people in Gil Bias.
“I am the son of a barber,” quoth he; “and
first saw the light some twenty years ago, in the
great city of Madrid. At a very early age, I was
taught to do something for myself, and began mv
career of gain by carrying a slow-match in the
Prado, for the gentlemen to light their cigars
with, and catching the wax that dropped from the
friars’ tapers at funerals and other religious pro
cessions.
“At school I was noisy and unruly ; and was
finally expelled for hooking the master’s son with
a pair of ox-horns which I had tied to my head,
in order to personate the bull in a mock bull fight.
Soon aftei this my father died, and I went to live
with my maternal uncle, a curate in Fuencarral.
He was a man of learning, and resolved that I
should be like him. He set his heart upon mak
ing a physician of me; and to this end taught me
Latin and Greek.
‘ln due time I was sent to the university of
Alcala. Here a new world opened before me.
What novelty—what variety—what excitement!
But, alas ! three months were hardly gone, when
news name that my worthy uncle had passed to a
better world. I was now left to shift for myself.
I was penniless, and lived as I could, not as I
would. I became a sopista, a soup-eater—a
knight of the wooden spoon. I see you do not
understand me. In other words then, I became
one of that respectable body of charity scholars
who go armed with their wooden spoons to eat
the allowance of eleemosynary SOU p, which is
ai 3, served out to them at the gate of the con
vents. I had no longer house nor home. But
necessity is the mother of invention. I became a
Wh ° Were more fort unate than
myself, smdied m other people’s books—slept
in other peop, e ’ s beds, and breakfasted at other
people s expense. This course of life has been
demoralizing. but it has quickened my wits to a
wonderful degree.
“Did yon ever read the life of the Gran Taca
no, by Quevedo ? In the first book you have a
tailhful picture of in a Spanish university. What
was true in his day is true in ours. O, Alcala 1
Alcala! if your walls had tongues as well as ears
what tales could they repeat! What midnight
frolics! what madcap revelries! what scenes of
merriment and mischief! How merry is a stu
dent’s life, and yet how changeable ! Alternate
feasting and fasting—alternate Lent and Carni
val—alternate want and extravagance! Care
given to the winds—no thought beyond the pass
ing hour; yesterday forgotten—to-morrow, a
word in an unknown tongue !
“Did you ever hear of raising the dead 1 Not
literally—but such as the student raised, when
he dug for the licentiate Pedro Garcias, at the
fountain between Penafiel and Salamanca—mo
ney. No ? Well, it is done after this wise
Gambling, you know, is our great national vice
and then gamblers are so dishonest! Now our
game is to cheat the cheater. W r e go at night
to some noted gaming house—five or six of ns in
a body. We stand around the table, watch those
that are at play, and occasionally put i n a trifle
ourselves to avoid suspicion. At length the fa
vorable moment arrives. Some eager player
ventures a large stake. I stand behind hia chair.
He wins. As quick as thought I stretch my arm i
over his shoulder and seiz i the glittering prize, «
saying very coolly, ‘I have won at last.’ My Is
gentleman turns round in a passion, and I
his indignant glance wrtha look of surprise. He
storms, and I expostulate; he menaces, I heed si
his menaces no more than the buzzing of a fly
that has burnt his wings in my lamp. He calls c
the whole table to witness; but the whole table
is busy, each with his own gain or loss, and there *
stand my comrades, all loudly asserting that the a
stake was mine. What can he do? there was a a
mistake; he swallows the affront as l>est be may, p
and we hear away the booty. This we call rais
ing the dead. You say it is disgraceful—dishon
est. Our maxim is, that all is fair among sharp- J
ers Bailor al son que se toca- —dance to any
tune that is fiddled. Beside, as I said before, po- t
verty is demoralizing. One loses the nice dis- r
tinctions -of right and wrong, of meum and
tuum.
“Thus merrily pass the hours of term-time. —
When the summer vacations come round, I sling k
my guitar over my shoulder, and witlj a light c
heart and a lighter pocket, scour the country like s
a strolling piper or a mendicant friar. Ijlkc lhe 1
industrious aut, in summer I provide for winter; l
for in vacation wc have time for reflection, and
make the great discovery, that there is a portion t
of time'called the future. I pick up a trifle here
and a trifle there, in all the towns and villages t
through which I pass, and before the end of my
tour I find myself quite rich—for the son ot a <
barber. This we call the vide iunantesca—n t
rag-tag-and-bob-tail sort of a life. And yet the
vocation is as honest as that of a begging Fran c
ciscan. Why not? 1
“And now, gentlemen, having dined at your
expense, with your leave I will put this loaf of I
bread and the remains of this excellent Vich sau
sage into my pocket, and thanking you for your | *
kind hospitality, bid you a good afternoon. God <
be with you, gentlemen !”
The Betrayer. ]
It was the seventeenth of July, in the year of (
grace, 1429, that all Rheims was in a state of joy- ,
ous excitement on the occasion of the coronation ,
of Charles VII. He was formally conducted to
the cathedral by Joan, the Maid ot Orleans,
through whom a large portion of his kingdom had
recently been snatched from the discomfitted Eng
lish. Standing before the altar, and near the
king, with the standard in her hand, she seemed
absorbed by that enthusiasm which she had com
municated to an entire army, when suddenly her
eye became filled with tears ; an earthly emotion
came to dissipate celestial dreams ; she perceived
at the church door James of Arc, her father, and
Durand Lexard, her uncle. The two aged men
were come from Douremy, on foot, with a staff
in their hands, to witness Joan’s glory.
All the happiness of her early years, all the
strong impressions ot an obscure and peaceful
childhood crowded on the heroine’s memory; her
village affections resumed a momentary sway in
her warlike heart. No sooner was the ceremony
finished than she prostrated herself at the king’s
feet.
“ Gentle king,” said she, “since God’s will is
done, and you have come to Rhiems to receive
your crown, I have accomplished that which the
Lord commanded me to attempt, namely to raise
the siege of Orleans and cause the king to be
crowned. Now let me return to my vallage with
my father. This armor, this standard, this sword,
belong not to my sex. A divine impulse urged
me to equip myself with them, but I feel that it
is withdrawn, and I am only a woman —a woman
born to spin and 10 guard flocks —a woman who
dreads battles, and would allow herself to be slain
on the field without defending herself. Permit
me to return to Douremy.
“ You, Joan, you leave us !” cried the king.—
“ Would you break off'your well-begun work ?
It cannot, must not be. Our soldiers would
think that with you God was abandoning them.
Oh, no.no —stay to fight, to conquer once more!”
“If I remain, it will only be to die 1” cried
Joan.
“ Sire,” said William de Flavy, a ferocious and
undoubted captain, “permit me to say that the
in tnose who na(! 0 -ly courage; but now let your
knights and captains attack the English, without
exposing the life of a child who pines for her
home and her parent.”
Repeated murmurs interrupted William de
Flavy. He had no sooner ended than the Duke
of Alcncyn. La Trcmoille, and ten other brave
soldiers and noblemen spoke, and claimed the
right of retaining Joan in their ranks.
“ Maiden,” said the king, “it is impossible that
you can leave us.”
“ I will remain with you till death, sire,” she
answered; “hut, alas! my greatest enemies are
not in the ranks of the English. Father, uncle,”
she said to her relations who approached, “Joan
must once more return to the battle-field. Prav
for her !” J
The maiden’s sad presentiments were but too
soon justified by the result. Her glory was be
come insufferable even to those of her brothers in
arms who had at first desired to see the heroine
remain in command. They felt envy at hearing
her named as the source of all the victories. They
had at the attack on the gate of St. Honore, in
Paris, allowed Joan to expose herself imprudent
ly to danger—danger from which she had only
escaped at the price of her blood. She then mar
ched towards Lompcigne, which was besieged by
the English, and in which the most violent of her
enemies commanded—M’illiam de Flavy, a man
universally detested for his vices.
She devoutly partook of the sacrament of the
church ot St. Jacques; and while she was praying
a gloomy vision dampened her courage; she turn
ed pale, and supporting herself against a pillar,
said to those near her, -Good friends, and dear
children, I tell you that I shall assuredly be be
trayed, and delivered over to death. Pray to
God for rue; for I shall be unable to save my kin <r
and the noble kingdom of France.”
At this moment entered the church an officer
whom she bad placed as sentinel on the ramparts.
He came to give notice that the English were no
longer on their guard, and that the moment was
favorable for a sally. All the maiden’s sorrowful
thoughts were dissipated at this news, and she
thought but of victory— she felt only the enthu
siasm of her divine mission.
William de Flavy, according to his custom
was feasting and making merry at table with his
female favorites. The door suddenly opened,
and Joan of Arc appeared. “De Flavy,” cried*
she, “is this the way to propitiate heaven 1 Arise
and pray ! The moment of battle has come; and
whether Providence has victory or death in store
for us, a spotless soul is necessary to deserve the
one and brave the other.”
William arose and went to put on his armor
A soldier from his cradle, he was unable to remain
deal to such an appeal to battle; but he murmured
o himself, “Accursed maiden ? you shall dearly
pay for the torments and humiliations you have
caused.
About one in the afternoon the maiden issued
with her people by the gate of the bridge over the
river Aisne. The English, encamped on the
other side, were almost unarmed, and expecting
no attack. They, however, hastily beat to arm*
and formed an irregular force more numerous
than that of their adversaries. Joan, at the head
ot the r rench, twice made them give way • but
w-o St U I be ?f me necessar y for her to retreat
VV ilham de Flavy remained with a body of troons
at the barrier of the bridge on the side of the 1
city, as a reserve ; but he abstained from afford- 1
mg Joan any assistance.
The French were beaten back on the bridge- I
the retreating army rushed precipitately on it’ 1
and pressed by the increasing numbers, it forced j c
neti and horses; on the right and on the left into
Ke riveri'’However,' Joan remained with the jji
ast on ihe field, and her redoubted standard, the .hi
prestige that was attached to her person, the
jravcry of the few troops who surrounded her, ra
still held the enemy in check. n
The French had re entered Compeigne, ex- j,
:epting the group who still fought with Joan of
Arc. and who were slowly retiring on the town. g(
Flavy had dispersed the retreatii g troops as fast
as they came for refuge, and remained almost
alone near the barrier of the bridge. He ap
proached the man who guarded it. 1
“Close the barrier/’ said he. "
“Sir,” answered the keeper, “it must not be so. *
The maiden has not re entered the town.” 11
“Do as 1 command —I am master here. A
hundred gold crowns are yours if you obey—if
not —” . . i j c
He raised his battle-axe, and the man closed h
the barrier by an almost involuntary movement.
The axe was stilt suspended over his head ; the
keeper locked the barrier. He had scarcely thus
obeyed,'•‘when the battle-axe suddenly fell and s
sunk deep in his shoulder. The man fell, bathe *
in his blood. Flavy was about to repeat the
blow.
“What has he done ?” demanded several offi
cers, who hastened to the spot. I
“I am punishing a miscreant,” answered the 1
ferocious captain, “who closed the barrier ol the t
bridge against my orders, and caused the loss of J
our people outside. Let me finish this act of Jus
tice.” .
“The man is already dead,” said one of the offi
cers, kicking the body with his foot. “Let us ra- j
ther see about opening the barrier.” ]
“It is too late,” cried Flavy. “ The English (
have taken advantage of this fatal delay. (
And he pointed through the bars of the barrier (
to Joan of Arc, who, with her followers, had been
surrounded and made prisoners.
From this day forward fresh wrinkles furrowed
the care-worn forehead ot William de flavy.-
His sleep was agitated, and he seemed to feel re
morse—he, who had long since exercised without
terror and without shame a frightful tyrrany in
Compeigne, as, indeed, wherever he had com
manded. He defended, however, with desperate
valor the place confided to his charge, and the
enemy was finally compelled to raise the seige.
Charles VII., whom Joan of Arc’s example had
roused for a moment from his ordinary indolence,
once more sunk into his voluptuous lethargy,
which La Tremoille, his favorite, shared and ap
proved. The king was feasting with that gen
tleman and others of his clique, when a horn was
sounded before his castle-gate. A vassal entered
to announce La Hire, W illiam de Flavy, and sev
eral other knights and soldiers. The king gave
orders for them to be admitted.
“De seated at this banquet, my faithful ser
vants,” cried he, “and poor as the king of Franee
is, you ere welcome to it.”
“ Sire,” said Flavy, with his usual bluntness,
“jit is not for us to take our places by your side;
but for you to place yourself at our head, for we
have resolved on an expedition which you must |
take the lead. We must force our way to Rouen,
and recover all Normandy.”
“And deliver the maiden,” added La Hire.
“ And why do you want the king to do this 1”
asked La Tremoille; “ why expose him useless
ly ? The king will inarch to your assistance, if
you are defeated.”
“ Yes,” replied Flavy, with anger, “ he will re
pair to the field when there are no soldiers left!—
This is the advice of a trifler, to say n© more.”
“ Your remonstrance is insolent,” replied La
Tremoille rising.
“Silence !” interposed the king. “Do not shed
blood in my presence! as if heaven had not sent
you enough of the English to satisfy your de
structive propensities. But there is no hurry, my
brave Flavy,”continued he, turning i» hia arm
chair.
“ No there is no hurry,” replied Flavy, “that
is what you are taught to think, sire. It will be
too soon for you when it is too late for us and for
France. I would fain know how r the Duke of
Burgundy’s court pays for the advice given to
your grace here 1”
~—~ li Dare 'William de Flavy speak of treason?”
said he in a subdued voice; “he, who.abandon
ed Joan of Arc to the English ?”
Charles VII. arose in his turn. Cries of as
tonishment resounded from all present.
“Yes,” resumed La Tremoille* who had ad
vanced too far to retreat; “he who commanded
the bridge-keeper of Compeigne to close the bar
rier, and cut oft'Joan of Arc’s retreat from before
the English ranks. }
- “ Tne panic-stricken miscreant himself closed
the barrier, in opposition to my orders,” rejoined
Flavy, in an altered voice. “ But I chastised the
traitor on the spot.”
“i ou struc k him it is true!” retorted La Tre
moilie. “ But an accomplice is more conven
iently got rid of than an enemy.”
“Not a word more,”cried Charles, “Theking
of France cannot think that one of his compan
ions in pleasure and in danger would conspire
with the English against him, or against the holy
maiden, the martyr to her devotion for France.
The wretch who closed the barrier against her
deserved death. I swear on my royal crown,that
if it could be prayed that Joan of Art was foully
betrayed, I would abandon the assassin to the
popular turv; nay, I would forgive any accom
plice were he the oflender’s son who would step
forward and denounce the guilty party, though
the latter was as dear to me as my own child.”
“ Sire, a solemn pledge,” remarked La Tre
moille.
“ Let it he well remembered as deeply sworn ”
replied Charles.
“Bire,” rejoined William de Flavy, “permit me
to challenge to mortal comboat the Sieur de la
■Tremoille, for the insult he has offered roe——an
insult that only death can wipe away.”
“I accept, answered La Tremoille.
“ And I refuse,” said the king. “ I propose a
duel that will much better revenge your honor;
take the English lor your adversary, the town of
Rouen lor your place of meeting, the liberty of
the maiden of Orleans for the prize of victory.
I will be judge of the combat, and second to you
both; for I will march with you at the head of
my brave army. The banquet is over. To
horse.
At that instant a messenger entered the apart
ment, and delivered a sealed letter to the king
No sooner had Charles opened it, than he let it
tall in despair.
“It is too late,” said he, in an inaudible voice,
“the maiden has been burnt in the public market
place of Rouen.”
An awful silence succeeded.
“ Can any punishment sufficiently cruel ” re
sumed the king, a moment afterwards, “be in
vented lor the man who delivered the maiden to
the enemy, for the Frenchman who lighted the
PUe ° f “ >iß hCTOi ‘ d °f
f e r/ ) :“ h Jd’,„ r^ P ° nded a “~ and tbe betr ** OT *“ f -
Sikoular
ne New York session, wishing to be excused ser
ving on a jury, offered as an excuse, that he could
nnL 7 th T g,aSSeS five y ards from Wa own
ian as there was no law to compel him to
wear glasses, he considered he had a sufficient ex
cuse as he could not give an enlightened verdict
wj hout seeing the faces and observing the man- *
ner of the witnesses. The court thought this en- ]
irely invalid, as the gentleman then had his spec
tacles on, and without inconvenience could keep 1
them on during the several trials; and as to there !
being no law to compel him to wear spectacles in
court, it might also v ith equal propriety be urged 's
fcat.th©*'* law ,t» •otttpei a jmror to
is clothes in court. Being compelled to serve
ie put his glisses in hi« pocket, and sat durinJ f
he trial without them, and then attempted to I
aise an objection to the verdict because he could r
lot see. The 'court however, rebuked him f or I'
lepriving himself of the means of discharging his Si
luty satisfactorily as he had sworn to do, and the 1
fentleman sat down abashed. — P-hil. Ledger.
“Can you tell me, my son, what a jury 0 f i n . K
juest is?” “A jury of inquest are a body* 0 f
nen what sits down .» n a dead man to find out
whether he are dead for sartin, or am only p] a y.
ing possum.”—Nero Orleans Sun. *
The L ist. —There is said to be a pig i n o; n ,
cinnati with his ears set so far back he cannot
hear himself squeal !—Nt W Orleans Picayune.
Woman is the morning star of infancy, the day
stqr of manhood —the evening star of age. Blesi P
our stars! may we always bask in their influence I
till we are sky high. J
A new Buhoical Operation. — The ingen- S
nuity of man will, after a while, construct human
bodies entire. We read in the Louisville Gazette
that Dr. Coledon, of that city, has supplied a new
lower jaw to a carpenter, who lost his jaw by an
accidental blow from some part of a steam engine
Advertising a Wife—The editor of the Bel
fast (iMe.) Republican having received a notice
requesting him to advertise a man’s wife for one
dollar, says: “Now be it known, the world over, i
that we love women, and that we will not adver
tise them for a less sum than three dollars, and
that not on tick, bol cash in hand. We are un
willing to disgrace a man, his wife and family at
any price, but nevertheless, for three cool dollars
we can be bribed to do it.”
_
COMMERCIAL.
Latest dates from Liverpool,.... Dec. 25
Latest dates from Havre Dec. 19
AUGUSTA MARKET.
Cotton. —Since our last report on Thursday there
has been an evident decline in the prices of this
article. The decline has been about f of a cent
per lb. on prime qualities and even more on ordi
nary and middling. We now quote sto 8 cents «
extremes of the market. Buyers have been per
milted to make selections at tbe latter price. We
quote as follows.-
Ordinary, - - 5 a6]
Fair, —-- - - a7| ® J
Good, 7f a
Prime, - --T$ a 8
Arrivals continue brisk, and planters sell, bu{
with great teluctance. Indeed, nothing but the un
precedented demand for money and the impossibil
ity of getting advances, could induce one out of
ten of our planters to sell a bag at present prices.
To this may be added tbe discouraging prospects of
better price?,
Macon, February U.
Cotton —Prices of Cotton in this rm ’Yet have
continued through tjje-iveclc about the same as
qudted in curias t, viz: 5 a 7fc—-principal sales
6f a 7.
The River continues beatable —with every ap
pearance of its being so for sometime, judging from
the showery weather. Boats arriving and depart
ing every day. >' '■?
Freights —To Savannah, by boats, per bale, s3s. i
do by boxes, do 3
- " Mobile, February 6.
The Cotton market remains in the same unsettled
state as noticed yesterday. Buyers evince no de
position to take hold unless at prices considerably
lower than the current asking rates—sales for the
last three days may be computed about 2000
has been ~7 ~ ‘ ‘freight
changes for the last two days in «•
ed for some time, though there has been bufT old ' 1
ifanyaltor-ation in rates. Yesterday there was\ 1
brisk demand forNew Orleans funds and a lar*e
amount (sight checks) was disposed ol at 31 a 4 1
“ e a ; VtP day s S ht bills onN York,
f* 3 ’ days _ at a "5 per cent premium;
sales of Specie at 6 a per cent premium.
rwA™, a- . New Orleans, February 5.
Cotton-—Arrived since the 31st ultimo .- ol Lou- ,
S. a a*? K Vllssl f, 1 fP i 15 > 14 ° Tennessee and
a™ l / £ ba ™ a 11 1**.'Arkansas 212, together, 16,- \
finale 8 —cleared m the same time.- for Liverpool
6308 bales, Kavre 4222, Trieste 1431, Antwerp
250 ,N York 580, Boston 2703, Phi
t bales—making are
inclusivcnf ° bales > and leaving on hand,
mst, a stock of It 7,214 bales.
at J, be dul,ness wbic h pervaded the cotton market
hL la J ° f c,OSin g our re Poit of Saturday mom
! hit was succeeded by a more active inquiry on
Z 5 an l ab °« t 5000 were disposed of at
D n *7 ter f )lj ’ var y*iig from Uiose belore cur
rent. On Monday the demand was more moderate;
and tne .sales, which amounted to 3500 bales, were
nr.rh* V re ® u^ar and ra lher drooping prices, though ,
dAhr trap ;?P ired tha t would go to establish any
llle * 1 esterda y, notwithstanding that
Pre s ented a very tranquil appearance,
about 3200 bales changed hands ; and, as there was
no essential variation in prices, we therefore con
tinue our previous quotations. The stock oh sale
con inues pietty large, but the greater portion of it,
S ,,,f re c t ore , is composed of the lower qualities.
i io dur l n g the three days amount to neat
ly 12,000 bales.
LIVERPOOL CLASSIFICATIONS.
and Mississippi —Ordinary, 6f a 6|;
Middling, 7i a Fair, 9 a 9i ; Good fair, 10 a loj;
Goo I and fine, llfa —. Tennessee nndN. Alaba
ma—Ordinary, middling, fair, good fair, good and
fine, 6f a 10, extremes.
STATEMENT OF COTTON. “
1839. Oct. 1, stock on hand, 15824
Receipts last three days ' 16470
" previously, 438469 454939
~ 470763 j
Exports last three days, 16865
previously, 346654 363549
Stock on hand 107214
Sugar Louisiana— The receipts have been large
duimg the last three days, while the demand has
been more limited than for some time past, and the
consequence has been the accumulation of a heavy
stock on the Levee. VVe now quote 3| a 4jc as
the lair range of the market, but remark that prime
sugars are not plenty, and that, occasionally, a
small parcel of very choice commands sc. Wc un
derstand that several sales have taken place on
Plantation, but are unable to give, with certainty,
the particulars of but two, viz; 400 hhds at 4c,and
100 hhds choice at 4^c.
Molasses —The supply on the Levee continues
rather limited, and a further advance is obtained
■rt?> r barrets in good order. We now quote at 22 a
23c per gal. We are advised of but two transac
tions on plantation, since our last, viz: 25,000 gals
at 15c and 40,000 at 16c.
Flour— At the closing of our report of Saturday
last, we remarked that the holders of parcels in
good order for shipment were demanding $5 00 per
su P? rtm e- This advance caused shippers to
withdraw liom the market fora day or two.buton
Monday’ they came forward and paid that price for
some parcels. esterday the market was in a very
unsettled state, several flat boats having arrived
during the morning, with some 5000 to 6000 bbls,
receipts, since our last reports, f«Hy
*44o!»i ’ Sales were made, in some instances,
at $4 87£, while in others $5 are said to have been
refused for considerable parcels. The latter offers,
however, weie on time, far shipment, while the
sa * es a * $4 were for cash. We quote at $4
ass foe superfine, and remark that the comse.which