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*• Ji3 *• 3SL From the Amulet. WOMAN AND FAME. BY MBS. ICEMANS. Hapnv—happier far than thou. With ti»« laur*1 on thy hrow, >>h? that makes the humblest hearth, Z . ely but toons on earth. * ; )iv; hast a eharmed cup, O Fame! A r.au*ht that mantles high, A >'i ' ’ ’ms to lift this earthly frame lhave mortality, A .vv! to me—a woman—bring Sweet water* from affection’s spring. Thou hast green laurel-leaves that twine Into so proud a wreath; for that resplendent gift of thine, Herops have smiled in death, G.ve me from sonv* kind hand a (lower, The record of one happy hour! Tlnu hast a voice, whose thrilling tone Can bid each life-pulse heat; A ' when a trumpet’s note hath blown, Calling the brave to meet: B it min", let mini—a woman’s breast, B v wards of home-born love be blessed. A hollow sound is in thv song, A mockery in ♦hme or**, To the sick heart that doth but long For aid, for sympathy; F ir kindly looks to cheer it on, For tender accents that are gone, Fa n ! Fame! thou can«t not be the stay Unto the drooping reed, The cool fresh fountain, in the day Of the sou’’s r evertsli need; Where must the lone one turn or flee? Not unto thee, oh! not to thee! MX80 'a.y.T, A3TEOTJS. From Walsh’s Narrative. THE BATTLE OF DRAGESCHAN. You have been in the habit of (les- ising this people [the Greeks,] and believe them so sunk and degraded from their former name, as hardly to be recognized as the same nation: but certainly my experience of them for several years would induce me to a- d.v.t a different opinion; their strong moral features, ia.« those of their language, though debased by some re cent barbarisms, remain essentially the same—the character of both be ing but little altered. As far ,09 they h ' - burl option‘.nuiies, they have e- vinced the industry, activity, genius, lov > of literature, enterprise, talent and intrepidity; shaded at the same time, with the levity, fickleness, per sonal jealousies, cruelty and want of faith, which occasionally distinguished IV.sir ancesters; and assuredly they are not inferior to them in an ardent and une uinguisliable love, of liberty, and their country, for which they have perilled as much, and fought as brave ly, in the dayyofthe Turks, as their ancestors in the days of the Persians. To their domestic virtues I should he very unjust if I did not pay them the tribute iliey deserve. 1 have no where met more kind and cordial pco, pie lo strangers; or, who perform the relative duties in their own families with stronger affections, in which I am disposed to think they exceed their progenitors. If, in addition to this, xve consider the obligations we owe thei > nation, our sympathy will not be confined to mere respect for their un changed character. We acknowl edge them as our masters in literature, and the arts and sciences, and the source from whence wo derive what ever is estimable in those attainments; and so they are endeared to us by all the recollect ions‘connected with such Interesting subjects; but we do not snem to remember that they are our instructors in religion also; that their language was the medium thnugh which the Gospel was first conveyed, and their cities were among the first where it was preached and adopted. And when Providence, for its own wise purposes, permitted to Mahom etanism a Temporary triumph in Eu rope, no inducement or intimidation could prevail on the modern Greeks to abandon the cause of Christianity; but. for four centuries, they cherish ed and kept alive the sacred flame, in the centre of the Turkish empire. \s we are now in the vicinity of Rimnik. rendered so interesting by the battle of Drageschan, fought In its vicinity, I felt I could not pass the spot without visiting it, and sending you «ome local details of one of the most affecting incidents of modern times; and, considering the youth and circumstances of the parties engaged, rivalling in intrepidity and self-devo tion, n*w : .hing we read of in the histo ry of aneienf Greece. Ypselante so, t finding in the pro vinces the support he expected, was Compelled to retire before the Turks, I and up o position at Tcrgov»sv, me ancient capital of W allachia. From bonce he was obliged to retreat through the upper country, crossed the river Oil, and established lnuiseli at Rimnik, a small lovui near that river* and not far from the Carpa thian Mountains, which separate this province from Transylvania and the Austrian territories. A large body of Turks, infinitely superior in numbers, here advanced against him; ami it was debated in me Greek, army, whether they should wait for rein forcements, or immediately meet the Turks. The position they had taken up was very favorable to the first. There stood near it the large monas tery of Drageschan, which it was proposed to occupy. 'The Greek monasteries are well adapted for such a purpose: they consist generally of a large quadrangular edifice, surround ing an open area inside, and entered only by a small door through the body of the building. The walls are very strong and massive, and the windows narrow, exactly resembling embra sures. for which they are well calcu lated. The accommodations inside are extensive: and hence every mon astery is. in fact, a fortress; protect ing inmates from piratts on the sea coast, and robbeis in the interior; and affording the Greeks a shelter, when hard pressed by their enemies. As this slood among the extreme bram li es of the mountains, which here ad vance considerably into the plain, and was encircled with woods and diffi cult ground, it would he easy lor light troops to advance under caver, and completely harass any army who should surround it. It was, there fore, proposed by Georgaki, a distin guished officer in Ypselantes’ army, to occupy the monastery and woods, and wait the coming of the expected re inforcements. This advice, however, was opposed by Karavia, another offi cer of influence, whose motive was evinced by liis subsequent conduct, such, however, was the enthusiasm of the troops that nis advice was unfor tunately adopted. The forces of Ypselantes consisted of 9000 effective men, Arnatus, I’an- dours, Servians, Bulgngarians, Wal- u.u-.u.w, — 1 Moldavians—generally animated in the cause, „..a „n by the common bond of professing the same religion of the Greek Churoli* but from the very nature of their for mer services, the total relaxation of military discipline, and, above all, their being of different nations, and having no bond of personal and local attachment, they were not much to be relied pn in a general attack. There was, however, one body whose former character gave them, the highest claim to confidence. • It had been laterly the pratice of the Greeks in general but particular ly those of the provinces, to send then- young men of respectable families, for education to different Universities in Europe; generally to those of Italy and Germany: such as were intended for the learned professions, studied medicine and law: and such as were intended for business, mathemati s. The first generally returned and prac tised at home; the last were usually placed in the different mercantile houses which the Greeks had now established in every capital on the continent. When the Society of the lietairia extended itself, these young men enrolled themselves as members of it wherever it had ramifications, and when the plan of revolution was resolved on, they were the first to of fer themselves as soldiers to support it. Every man provided himself with a case of pistols, a sword, and a mus ket with a screwed bayonet, after the European manner, and a uniform suit of black; and thus equipped, to Ypse lantes’ standard. It was a singular and interesting spectacle, to see these young gentlemen voluntary, and by a simultaneous movement, abandoning their colleges and offices’ in different places in Italy, Russia and Germany; marching forward either singly or in small bodies, from the remotest parts of Europe, and meeting at one com mon centre, to form an army. They enrolled themselves into a corps call ed icros loclias, or the sacred band; and they evinced by their conduct, that they merited the appellation as much as the Thebans in the days of Epaminondas; they inscribed on their standard thanates eluthuria, death or freedom: and the inscription of the Spartan shield e tan e epi tan, either this or upon it. The greater part of them had never felt hardship, or handled a military weapon before yet they eadured fatigue, privation llllu I j/ M>< W J •• I Ati u liii UuU fortitude—setting an example to the rest which was badly followed. There weie of this corps, now with Ypselan tes about five hundred men: & on these he justly placed his chief reliance. The little array, originally so small, had been further weakened by the ab sence of Prince Caulucuzcue, who had taken a stiong detachment to op pose the Pasha of Ibrail on the Dan ube. What remained, did not consist of more than live thousand men, who had with them a small body of Arnaut cavalry, and a few iron field pieces that had been ships’ guns. They were opposed by nearly double the number of Turks, with 1600 well ap pointed cavalry, among whom was a corps of Delhis. 1 have already told you the nature of those troops. The battle began at ten o’clock in the morning of the 19tb June, 1821 After a few rounds of grape-shot from the small artillery of the Greeks, the Turks rushed with their usual impe tuosity on the corps of the sacreii hand, who flanked and guarded it. They were repulsed with coolness by the fixed bayouets of the corps who had a great advantage over their enc ores ina close charge, as the Turks used no bayonets, on their muskets, and their yatigans or hangers, u'ere too short to reach within their guard. 'The Turks retired in confusion, bui returned soon again to the charge, and were again driven back. Ypse- lants, now seeing the moment for dec ision, instantly ordered up the whole corps of his cavalry, to attack the Turks in the rear, as they were re tiring in confusion. Had the orders given been obeyud, they never would have rallied again, and the victory would have been as signal, as the con sequences-to the Greeks would have been momentous. The cavalry was commanded by Karavia, who had been so strenuous in advising an immediate battle. Instead of obeying the orders of the General, and attacking the Turks.in their confusion, they turned suddenly round, headed by their in famous commander, and riding furious ly through a body of their owu men, threw the whole left wing into conf.i- sion. Every effort was made to reme dy the disaster, but in vain. The panic or treason of the horse, commu nicated itself with the infantry; the whole dashed headlong into the Olt, and passed to the other side, leaving the sacred band almost alone in the midst of the plain. It w' s now that the Turkish cavalry, seeing them a- bnndoned to their late, rushed on them, and surrounded their little body on all sides with their squadrons. In this awful situation, these young men, utterly unused to discipline, kept fr mly together, and repelled for some time every offort to break them; the Delhis, particularly, rushed on them, but was received so steadily, on the cheeeux defrize which their bayonets presented, that their horses were al ways thrown hack in confusion. At length the pistols of the cavalry ef fected what the sabres could not; they made repeated discharges on them beyond the reach of their bayo nets; they were gradually thinned and weakened by this firing, and then the Turks rushing in with their sabres, cut down every man that remained, on the spot where he stood. More than four hundred perished side by side; and of the few what escaped almost all died of their wounds, so that hardly an individual of this admir able band, the pride and flower of the Greek nation, survived this dreadful day. I cannot describe to you the feelings of respect and regret with which I walked over the ground that covered the remains of th^se young heroes. I had not long before visited the field of Marathon, and the rei ollectioq of it and I)r. Johnson’s effusion, were fresh in my mind; but the impressions of both were cold snd feeble, compared with those of Drageschan. Here was an act of courage end self-devotion a- mong modern Greeks, that rivalled any thing similar, in the best days of their ancestors; and I was on the spot while the event was yet recent, and their bodies if I may so say, scarce cold in the clay that covered them. No one has hitherto dared to erect a tomb to designate the place where thev lie. but they live imnerishably in the memory of their country; and when Eu bind and her allies shall re place it in its due rank among the na tions of Christian Europe, a raoi.'!* ment on the field of Drageschan will not be forgotten. There is not two other words in the language that call back a more fruit ful train ot past remembrances of fiieiidsiup than these. Look through your iiuiury, and when you cast your eye upon a volume that contains the name ot an old compauiou, it will say —remember me. Have you an ancient Album, the repository of the mement os of early affection? turn over the leaves, stained by the finger of time, sit down and ponder upon the names enrolled 011 them; each speaks, each says, remember me. Go into the crowded church-yard, among the mar ble tombs, read the brief inscriptions that perpetuate the memory of de parted ones; they too have a voice that speaks to the hearts of the living, and says, remember me. Walk in the scenes of early rambles: the well knowni paths ot the winding streams, the over-spreading trees, the green and gently-sloping hanks will recall the dreaniS of juvenile pleasure, and .lie recollections of youthful compan ions; they too bear the treasured in- 1 unctions—remember me. And this ‘is all that is left at Inst of the wide circle of out earthly friends. Scatter ed by fortune, or called av\ ay by death or thrown without our band by the c hanges of circumstances or ot char acter; in time, we find ourselves left alone with the recollection of what they were. Some were our bene,fac tors; and won us by their favor; oth ers, again, w ere models of virtue, and shared our praises and admiration.— It was thus a little while, and then the c hanc es of the w orld broke in up on the delightful intercourse—it ceas ed Yet still, w e do all we can to discharge the one sacred, and hon est, and honorable debt—we can remember them. 1 be tribute too, of remembrance whtah. we delight to pay to others, we desire for ouiselves 'The wish tor applause; the thirst for fame; the desire that our names would shine down to future posterity in the glory of recorded deeds, is a feverish, unhappy passion, compared with the unambitious desire to retain, even beyond the span of hie, th* a flections of the warm-heart ed few who shared our joys and sor rows in the world. I once >ead the brief inscription, ‘remember me,’ on a tomb-stone in a country church-yard, with a tear, that the grave of Bona parte would not have called iorth.-— But whom do we always remember with affection? The virtuous, the kind, the warm-hearti d; those who have endeared themselves to us by the ainiahlencss of their characters. It is the mind, the disposition, the habits, the feelings of our friends,* which at tach us to them most strongly; which form the only lasting bond ot affection; which alone can secure our affection ate remembrance. Then, if we would he r» membered with ti c kind liest feelings; if we would be em balmed in the.memory of those we love; if we desire that when fortune or late shall separate us from our friends, they may long think of us, we must possess ourselves the same char acter we ' love in others Never was a moie noble line written in the history of man than this— “The first emotion of pain he ever caused—was on his departure.” - — 1 PROBABLE COLLISION OF THE EARTH AND A COMET. Never removing from the sun to a greater distance than Pallas, &. cross ing the track of the earth, as well as that of every other planet below Pal* las, more than sixty times in a centu ry, it is from the comet of Encke c hiefly that we have to apprehend the risk of a collision. It is found to he particularly liable to suffer perturba tion from the attraction of Mercury, which it sometimes approaches so near as 360,000 miles. This circum stance has led some to apprehend that at a future period a collision may take place between this comet and Mer cury; at all events, their frequent proximity will afford to astonomers the means of determining that planet’s mass, which is not yet very accurate ly known. Concerning its approach to our own planet, Olhers has commut ed, that in the courso of 88,600 years this comet will come as near to us ns the moon; that in four millions of years it will pass at the distance of about 7,WO geographical miles, when, if its attraction should equal that of the earth, the waters of the ocean will Jie elevated 13,000 Cert, that is above all the European mountains except Mount Blanc. The inhabitants of the Andes & Himalaymouritains. therefore • would alone be able to escape such a a... ..irtini, propaoiy. lea,© upon our glotie records ot iis occur rence, similar lo those discoveiai.de, at the present day. After a lapse of two hundred and nineteen millions' of years, according to the calculations of the same astronomer, an actual collision will take place between this comet and the earth, severe enough to shatter its external crust, alter toe elements of its orbit and annihilate the various species of animated beings dwelling on its surface., lienee re may conc lude that iu the course of two hundred and nineteen millions of years, our globe will certainly be smashed by a comet. I have remark ed that Encke s comet approaches nearer the earth’s orbit than any oth er yet •discovered; and hence the probability is, that the fate which is thus demonstrated to be reserved for our globe, will he fulfilled by means, of this particular comet. But such speculations however striking the re sults, conduce to. no practical advan tage, and contribute little to the ad vancement of science. They affo efc astonishing proofs of the energy of man’s intellectual power, by which he extends his vision to the horizon; of the most distant futurity^ and looks forward, it may be, with a feeling of complacent assurance to those mo mentous events, which, from his | knowledge of nature, he is enabled to foresee. But let him not rest too, confidently on the verity of such anti cipations. Astronomers have proph esied, it is true, the collision on a comet with the earth, an event that will at once destroy the greater part of the human sjiecies; hut any slight attraction, which, in calculating the movements of this comet, they have chanced to overlook, must invalidate all their conclusions, and render the prediction at once vain and futile: while, perhaps- some other comet, among the many thousands travel sing the system, and following an orbit to us unknown, may. in the meanwhile, come in contact with our globe, and thus, without any warning of its ap proach, produce the same terrible ef fects, long before the expected period have arrived.—Milne's Essay on Com- , ets. TURNING DOLLARS INTO PI9TAREENS. A Latin student in one of our Aca-' demies, had some how or other taken it into his head that hard study was not easy, and wn9 therefore in the habit of applying to his fellow students to help him out with his lessons.—It was on one of these occasions, that coming to the passage of Virgil, where ./Eneas, about to relate bis adventures and sufferings at the enrnest desire of Queen Dido, tells her that she com mands him to renew unutterable grief? the idle student got as far ns renovare, and there he stuck fast. It was al* most the hour of rcritatiou, and not having a minute to lose, he applied to the person' nearest at hand for assis tance. The latter happening to bd rather of a waggish turn, told him to translate the passage thus— lt Rcgina, 0 Queen—jutes, you order me—reno vate. to turn—dclorem. dollars—infan- dum, into pislareens!” The idle fel low swallowed the hoax, and hastened to his recitation, flattering himself that he was well prepared to give a good account of his lesson—and coming to the knotty passage, he read in a fall voice and with more than usual confi dence. pre isely in the words of hia wajrgisb comrade—and at the same time assumed a look and tY>n“, as rum. h ns to say, beat that my boys if you can. The burst of laughter that followed at his expense, may he easily imagined; he was. besides, reproved by the mas ter, in no very measured terms, for turning the sacred words of Virgil into' ridicule; and htf was not likely soon tq hear the last of the matter from his feljow students.—This put him upon a resolution to retaliate, and nn op portunity was not long wanting. Find ing the roguish translator lying on his back one day, asleep, lie poured a tincture of red pepper upon his eyes, which insinuated itself between the lids, and soon put an end to his slum* hers. Feeling his eyes smart intolera bly, and seeing his latp dupe standing over him, with the direful bottle in his hand, he bawled out, “What are you about here you scoundrel?’* “why,,’ replied the other, “I’m only turning dollars into pistareens.” CHEROKEE CONSTITUTION, Printed in both lan^uaee* in parallil columns, for sale at this Clfficpi