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WESTERN j
Rome, February 57, 1838*
Umois Candadatesfor Congress.
In almost every paper published in the State ;
attached to the cause of the Union party, we
see recommendations of gentlemen a# suitaole
candidates before the people, to represent ou<
State in the next Congress. Many of the pro
posed tickets contain the names of individuals
who rank in their immediate neighborhoods, as
men of good moral character, and high menial
attainments. Some of them arc, however,
unknown either in person or character to a
large majority of the citizens of Georgia,
crisis with the Union party has arrived winch
calls upon them to be prudent in their selec
tion of a ticket. Formerly, our strength was ,
sufficient to elect almost any Union man; the '
case is now otherwise. Il we expect to sue- ;
coed, wo must nominate men, riot only of tai- 1
ent, but of some public notoriety, calculated to
recommend them to public notice. Above all, '
we should seek to nominate candidates whose ,
former course will insure a firm and undevia
ling adherence to the interests of the South.
The Cbmkeei.
Wo understand that Gen. Smith, the Cher
okee emigrating agent, lias appointed a special
agent to visit the Indians, and ascertain whe
ther they intend to emigrate or not, and their
feclingson the subject, his understood here i
(from rumor) that the head chiefs of the prin
cipal settlements or towns, as they are termed,
have received letters from Ross recently.—
The purport of those letters is not known; but,
it is also rumored that the Indians are advised
to remain; not to resist the Whites, but not to
leave the country. The truth is, that the con- ‘
duct ofthe Indians will be regulated by the 1
conduct of Ross. lie may not advise them to
proceed to extremities; but, unless he uses his
influence to suppress their discontent, we have
no doubt but there will be some difficulty.
Cherokee Afifaias.
It is impossible to conceive the feelings with
which the citizens of Georgia will receive the
news ofthe action of the I louse ol Representa
tives on this subject. \\ e had hoped that the
treaty of’3s would be regarded as the “su
preme law of the land.” After it was sanc
tioned and ratified by the treaty making pow
er, our citizens wore induced to entertain the
well grounded hope, that it would be carried
into effect, and our State relieved oi the pres
ence ofthe Indians. Present indications how- J
ever, seem'? show that v.e are io be disnp
pointed. After John Ross had received such
distinct intimations from the Government, that
the recent treaty with the Cherokees would be
, enforced—that it was imperious upon the Exe-
cutive to use every means to carry it into ex
ecution, is it not astonishing that the Represen
tatives of th: people will gravely insist on “re.
considering, ” the original ground of the treaty
rind thereby involve the country in all its for
merdifficulties? 1 lave we again to enter the
lists with Mr. Everett. Mr. Adams and, their
insignificant adjunct, Mr. W ise, and re vindi
cate the rights of our State, so often and so
triumphantly maintained? lias the compact
of ISOa become a “by.word and a hissing,” or
has it been determined that the pledges of the
Government to Georgia are not and shall not
be binding? In charity we would believe that
the opponents of the treaty in Congress arc
ignorant of the actual situation of things iiere.
Mr. Everett asserts that the Cherokees have
advanced to a Ligh state ofcivil'/.at-on, at least
us much so as the citizens of the vicinity. This .
is cither a most miserable delusion, or a most
wilful and malicious error. It is a most taunt
ing and unjustifiable insult to rhe citizens of,
Georgia, South Carolina, North Can-lin ’, Ala
bama and Tennessee. Is nut the whole coun
try aware that this rn/rrf.iLi i.rut if Mr. Ross
at Washington—this “reecnsideration * ol' the .
treaty of’3s if persisted in, will most inevita- j
Idy lead to violent consequences’ The Cher
okee country in Georgia, is settling rapidly; |
thriving and flourishing villages are springing
'P in every direction. From a solitary wasu.
tt las almost every where, the ap
I''-'ranee of industrious cultivation. The ad
-Iration v s u l.olesi me laws is lecogt.izid
■ ruuiicing i s effect; end yet. i:
the face of such facts docs Mr. Everett and his ;
I co-adjutors contend, before the country, that)
J we are no better than the Indians, in the scale
of civilization. The just indignation which
I the conduct of a majority of the i louse of Rep
resentatives is calculated to inspire in the bos
oms ofthe Cherokee ci’izens may be/eZZ-it may
hereafter be vented in retributive vengeance
upon the calumniators —but it cannot be ex- 1
pressed. The course pursued on the meraori- i
al of Ross, will, we believe, result in a serious
.difficulty, unless it is soon abandoned. Not
I onlv do the citizens of Georgia believe that
; their rights have been disputed, which of itself
is calculated to create excitement, but their
character has been slandered, their motives
have been impugned, and their policy execra- '
1
tod. An universal feeling of resentment has I
thus been created; and an universal determin- '
alien to remove the Indians when the stipula- I
, ted lime has expired, is the consequence of.
; that resentment. On the other hand, the time
i
•serving policy adopted is deluding, but not be
i nefitiing the Cherokees. They, by it, are
taught to look to Washington for relief. And
so certain are they that Ross will finally effect 1
a rescinding of the treaty, that many of them
, are now actually clearing land dp building new
huts with every appearance of an intention to
remain permanently. '1 hat this intention to
remain was originally produced by the tardi
ness ofthe Secretary of the War Department
in rejecting the overtures of Ross, and confir- |
med by the recent action ofthe I louse of Re- ■
presentatives, cannot admit of a doubt.
The estimation ofthe number ofthe Chero- |
kce Indians, previous to any emigration, was
between 17 & 18,000. The emigration has
been two thousand at farthest. If they make
that resistance to a removal West which the
1 present policy clearly acknowledges as matter
of right with them, we may prepare ourselves
; for a second and improved edition of the late
Creek war. And, if the word ofthe citizens
’of this country can possibly pass current with
the magnanimous fi i< nds of the Indians, they
I ” 1
may rest assured thatlheir sufferings will not
Ibe alleviated by refusing to emigrate. They ‘
must leave (he country at the time stipulated, and
the Government must sec to it promptly, ortho
citizens of the Cherokee counties in Georgia
i will do it themselves. “They know their
rights, and knowing will defend then*.”
For the Western Georgian.
WILLIAM BROOKLYN,
Or the '.k ii i or circvmsfax tial tesfi-
?ION V.
I
(( ONTINI ED.)
Brooklyn immediately returned to the vil
lage, and found his worst fears realized. Em- ,
eluic was indeed very ill when ho arrived.— •
Iler spirit seemed hoveling between lite and
death; and as their approaching nuptials was
a matter of notoriety, no impropriety con'd be
inferred from ILooklyn’s spending most of his
time with her.
Turn we now, to another scene in the act.
Mrs. Wells felt no alarm at her husband’s not
returning even at twilight; but when 9 o’clock
arrived, and she could hear nothing of him,
she began to be seriously uneasy. Servants
were despatched in every direction, but with
their return came no relief. Morning came
and Wells had not returned, and .Mrs. Wells
had just determined on a more accurate and
extensive search, when the name of Barry, a
near neighbor was announced as having par
ticular business with the lady of the house.
Barry was a plain but a kind man. lie had
that morning, in seeking some stray stock, dis
covered the body of \\ ells, and having ascer
tained that he was certainly dead, hurried th
the widow’s lions • to inform her of the fict.
I he servants of the family, with Barry ami a
neighboring justice of the peace by the name
of M esl, who hud been summon d, immediate
ly procecdcl to the -pot to survey the body.
Ihe body was critically examined and the
cau eo! de: th was manifi st. There were
. three wounds in the breast and a fourth one in
the left side, either of w..;ch was calculated to
produce immediate death. During the exami
nation the magistrate discovered the dirk with •
which the wounds had been inflicted, lying on
j the ground a lew feet from the loiy, where it
wilt be rccolie •cd Well's had dropped it. It
was some time before either he or Bur«y no.
ticed the mscrip’i. us on the blade, obscured ns
they were by bh--'. Wie n they did, how, v
' .t. a let ling of the m. st profound distnav and
J astonishment Jook poss« ssion of their bosoms. <
’T .c name of “Brooklt n’’on the dirk, co; p-
I lad wph the fact (of which they had bet n m-
I formed) that We Is was last seen in the com
pany oiW i’liain as above lelated, poin’ed al
or’re, as they b>- ve ,to he murderer. For
the s; kc the f< tags <fMs. W t ’,s howev
e., and to prevent any pre judgment m ti e I
public tr.L Jas to her s< n’s cm ’, th-, y d tern.- >
incd on kee; mg t'm irs.r.im nt, as weu us their I
t:sp cioES, for a w !::!<■ sten ?.
it was :gr cd to ffifoim t c coroner iinrre-
I
V ...
diately of the fact and let a jury decide it.—
This was effected in the afternoon, and Barry
hims'lf rode to the village and called at the of
i lice of voting Brooklyn, and siriiply informed
him ofthe fact that Wdls had been murdered ;
jin his own woods, and when—and while he
spoke he fixed his eye keenly on the supposed
criminal’s face. At first it assumed surprise
and astonishment. That expression however,!
soon gave way to a deadly paleness. The !
suspicions of Burry were confirmed; but he!
! concealed it for the present, and merely inqui
j red of Biooklyn if he should have his compa
ny at the inquest. He was answered in the
affirmative. In the meantime the news had
'spread rapidly, and by the time the jury had
; assembled, -jany-of the citizens of the village
arrived upon the ground where the body had
been found. There was a feeling of awe over
that little assembly—a silence and a serious
ness of aspect not common on occasions of the
j kind. Suspicions were indeed whispered now
and then, and it was observed that the eye of
| the listener, when his informer concluded inva
riably rested on the troubled countenance of
young Brooklyn. And was it astonishing that
: In’s countenance should seem troubled? No,
it is not in human nature to resist the dark
; and gloomy fears which oppressed bis mind.
He saw that he avus suspected, and he rapidly
revolved in his mind every circumstance which .
seemed to implicate him, with which he was i
then acquainted. He had had a public diffi
cultv with the deceased, and judging of the l
! time the murder was committed, he was prob-1
ably the last person seen with Wells. He had |
one hook however, on which he hung a hope. |
His mother knew when he left her residence'
i for the village, and possibly she might have
seen her husband afterwards; if so, he had a
chance. The inquest was organized and pro
ceeded to strip the body and examine the
i wounds. Mrs. Wells had been sent for, and
though the picture ofthe keenest anguish, was
I sworn bv the coroner. She stated that, the
j last ti ne she had seen Wells, was early in the
! morning of the preceding day, when he l< f
i the house apparently to hunt. “Was any one
' incompanv with him,” gravely demanded the
cc romer.
The bosom of Mrs. Wells throbbed as
though her heart would burst. She essayed
to speak, but she only gave utterance to inar
ticulate sounds, and she fainted on the ground.
The effort she had made was too powerful foi
her. Her husband had been murdered am:
i the mother believed her son to be the assassin.
The eycsofjurors and spectators were now
fixed upon the face of Brooklyn, in undisguised
suspicion; and he felt the necessity of doim
; something for himself. He appr< ach. d th<
■ coroner and said;
“I see that I am an object of the dark' st sns
picion, and justice to myself calls on me to
state every thing I know relative to this tragic
! affair.—l was a few days ago invited to spend
a short time here with my mother and hei
. husband. The morning on which it seems
that the crime was committed, 1 was invited by
the deceased to join him in a little hunting ex- 1
ciirsion, and reluctantly complied. We had j
not proceeded far before it was agreed to sepa
, rate and meet again at a given point on the!
! public road hard by. 1 arrived at the appoin- ’
' ted place, and while waiting for Wells, a
;ft iend rode up and informed me that a person
in whom 1 feel a deep interest was dangerous,
ly ill. Not considering my engagement with
the deceased as paramount to the duty then de- ■
'waiving on me, I immediately proceeded to |
the house, infomied my mother of the facts,
and left for the vilage, where I have remained !
' until now.”
“1 am sorry, Mr. Brooklyn, to believe that
suspicion icsts upon you,” said the coroner,“l
I have been put in possession of that, which will
perhaps throw some light upon the subject. I
This dirk was picked up near the spot, where;
the body of our neighbor was found; and from 1
an examination ofthe wounds and the blood
on the instrument, were doubtless inflicted!
withit. Doyon A/tow and he handed the!
weapon to Brooklyn.
The eyes of Brooklyn and his mother, (who !
had recovered) fell simultaneously on the dag
ger. The mother raised, and regarding her
sou with an eye of tearless agony, and in a.
voice which amounted almost to a shriek, “()! j
William! William’ you have ruined both vour- '
sell and me! 1 he feelings of'Brooklyn can
not be described. His case now seemed help
less, for he was compelled to admit that the
dirk was his; but the faultcring manner in
which he asserted his having lost it accident
ally, only served to confirm his guilt iu the
minds of the jury. A further description of
the scene is unnecessary. The verdict ofthe
inquest was “Wilful murder by William Brook
1\ n.”
Iho intern ediate proceedings of warrant '
and commitment were gone through with, and
Brooklyn—the noble and promising—was
consigned to a dungeon. He reflected deeply
on his situation, and the more he reflected the
h< tier he was convinced that his escape fiom
nn ignominious death was hardly possible bv ;
mortal agency;—and thes’ronger this convic
tion L’ew the more he felt the necessity of pla
cing Lis Iras' in Providence. What a change
was here! W hat a commentary on the fickle
ness ol the world—the imperfections ofthe hu
man min i! Yesterday, he was loved, honour
ed and respected—hs imagination glancing
tbr’ U-lh the vista offituri'y, recognised «oih
ing sombre in the prospect. —Throughout the
wide range of youthful anticipation, nought
was seen to cheek fora moment the flight of
youth, il hope. But to d ty, private enemies
became ?is public accusers, and his best
friends, though mmirning his unhappy fine,
were stiT comp- 11. I not only tn admit lii.s guil’,
bit the jusi.ee of the punishment which awai
ted him.
d ;,t- first o; j •■rtu- i‘y which oecu red, he de- i
spatched a note to Emcline, briefly stating his
situation, and protesting his I’nlirc innocence.
The shock which she received at the intelli
gence was such as might, have beeti expected.
This was succeeded by the appearance of her
father, who set about convincing her that
Brooklyn was no longer worthy of her regard,
lie recapitulated the circumstances above re
' lated, and ended by declaring himself perfectly
j satisfied that he was guilty, and tjiatthe very
! circumstances themselves showed a degree o r
; reckless depravity scarcely ever exceeded in
the history of crime. Emeline shuddered at
the facts detailed by her father: He Was an
honest, and intelligent man, and had been
I warmly attached to Brooklyn; and she rightly
conceived that if he believed in bis guilt—if
he. had forsaken him, he was indeed, forsaken
by all, and his guilt more Ilian probable.
It is well known that mental agitation in
diseased frames, often produces serious and
sometimes fatal consequences. Thus it was
with Emeline. From a state of comparative
convalescence, she was thrown back by a re
newed attack of the original disease, and a
few days ofsufleriiig intervened and her pa
rents and friends were called on to perform
the last rights of their departed child and fav
orite.
Time passed and the court arrived which
. was to decide upon the life or death of Brook
-1 lyn Conscious of his innocence, he felt liim
! self bound to make (-very exertion to preserve
I a life which now possessed in his estimation,
! but few charms. He engaged the services of
| several eminent attorneys; but after repeated
| and lengthy consultations— after critically ex
' amining every inculpating as well as exculpa
ting circums'ancc, they could not in con
science, delude him with the prospect of a soli
tary hope. They even thought him guilty.
The day of trial at length arrived. As
might have been expected} not only the court
house, but the town was crowded to overflow
ing.
The prisoner was guarded to the bar, and
arraigned for the murder of “Josiah Wells,”
which was charged in the Bill of Indictment
with all the aggravating harshness peculiar to
such insti umen's.
The usual question of “guilty or not guilty”
was propounded, and I iooklvn, though pule
and haggard, nnswvrulin a clear tone, dis
tinctly heard throughout the Louse, “Not guil
ty ”
The plea was recorded, the jury selectee
and the trial began. The first witness intro
duced on the part of the prosecution, were sev.
'•ral respectable citizens of the village, wh<
were piesent when the difficulty occurred be
tween the prisoner and deceased.
They all stated that Biooklyn hud said tc
Wells, that the laitt r '‘should answer wi'h his
life any ill treatment to his moihcr.” The co
roner and magistrate next followed and swore
to the admissions of Brooklyn at. the inquest;
That he had gone out with Wells on thej da\
he was murdered, and every other circum
stance which he had detailed, and with which
i the reader has been made acquainted. The
magistrate, together with .Mr. Barry, also sta
j ted the finding of the dagger, the suspicions
; which then arose, and the confession of the
j prisoner that it was his property.
The prosecuting couns- l was vigilant, and
drew from each witness every thing tending to
show the unfortunate youth’s guilt. Barry
was compelled to testify to the particulars of
; the scene between him and Brooklyn wlr n in
the office of the latter he first announced to
him the murder of Wells—his evident agitation
; not only then, but when the dagger was produ
i ced before the jury of inquest.
The prosecution closed, and an universal o
pinion prevailed among the multitude that the
! prisoner was guilty.
Brooklyn hims-.df arose and addressed the
I court and jury more calmly than could have
been expected. He stated to them that he
. was hurl by a combination of circumstances
which tended to show his guilt. lie told them
| to beware however, how they yielded implicit
ly to conclusions which might be thence deriv
i cd. He earnestly and feelingly protested his
innocence, and called on a merciful God to
, witness the truth of his declaration. He re
peated the recit-ul of his little hunting excur-
I sion with Wells—that he was solicited to do
so by him. Jhe loss ol his dagger, which he
■ had only worn in memory of a deceased parent.
The cause of his sudden return to the village,
and referred to the letter he had written both
to Wells and his mother, and their answer
thereto; which, he contended, would do away
the idea of premeditated malice or “ante
cedent grudges” towards the deceased. He
modestly referred to his past life, character
and habits, and asked i r then they could for a
moment suppose him guiltv of such a crime.
The case being thus opened by him. his
counsel offered in evidence, the letter he had
written to his mother and Wells. At first the
Attornry for the prosecution objected that it
was illegal; hut after a moments examination
he withdrew it, and it was submitted and read
to the jury It was couched in mild terms, re
gretting any misunderstanding, and hoped that
it might be forgotten and harmony r< s ored.
The letter of Wells and his mother was also
read, am] in it was found a friendly reply, and
an invitation to spend a few days uih them:
and here for lack of oil er evidence he was
compelled to rest his case. Wilson, by whom
he could have proved at least, part of his state
meat, as to the cause of his leaving the resid
ence <>f Wells so suddenly, was absent and no
one knew whether he over would re
turn. The princi; :l counsel for Brooklyn
addressed the jury, and was followed by the
counsel for the pros< cution. He, at 1< nglh
ami f ircibly, set forth the fac's in evidence es
t iL.is'i n;_ r the guilt of tite prisoner.—Thcv in
his opin on were conclusive, and no set of rea
sonable beings could doubt the inference of
guilt arising from them. He then referred to
' die letter of Brooklyn to his mother ahd Wells.
That, he contended was the most conclusive
proof of malice. He was known to beat en
mity with the deceased; and suddenly, with
out any apparent cause, he seeks a reconcilia
tion. lie is invited to the house ofthe deceas
ed they go alone into she woods—the priso-
ner returns without hiy companion—leaves alg
ru ptly —the next day the body is found, and
’ the very instrument by which, indubitably, the
death wounds Were inflicted is fittmd neAr thp
spot—the name ofthe prisoner “Brooklyn” is
Jon the blade—and “I’m (onfirmatfon vtrong as
proof of Holy Writ,” the p> isoner admits the <
dagger to ho his ~bul says he lost it. A fur
’ilher detail is useless. The jury with a slight
j charge from the Court, retired to the room,.
I and in a few minutes returned a verdict of
; “Guilty.” Though this verdict was expected
|J by all—the Court—the jury—the prisoner and
; J the spectators; yet, a universal feeling ol pity
J and regret pervaded the mufillude.
Brooklyn was then addressed by the presi
i ding judge, and asked in the usual form, why
• sentence of death should not be passed on him.
i The violence of his emotions prevented him
■ 1 from making the common prefatory remarks.
Hi: had known Brooklyn from his first udmis
i sion to the bar; he hud admired his character,
and predicted olt-times his future prosperity.
Brooklyn had heard the verdict, we might al. ’
■ most say, with indifference. He had made up
, his mind as to iis lesub. Hope had now de'
’ sorted him, and ho calmly replied to the ques-
I tion propounded by the court in a straifi ol
■ j melting eloquence, which filled the eyt-S even
J ofthe jury. He recapitulated the evidence
■ ‘and admitted that it was calculated to prove
■ his guilt. lie forgave the jury their error,
and concluded by raising his bands and ('yes
; to heaven, and declaring before his Creator,
t that he was innocent of the blood of Weils.
• He besaughi every one to recollect and mark
his case, and alter his sufferings were past,
I ' his innocence would be, bv some Providential
i occurrence, established. It might be set up as
t a Listing landmark foi future juries never to
) j convict upon circumstantial, testimony. He
i then listened with firmness o the sentence fee
’ ; lingly pr'-nounced, and was recon’diicted to his
a dungeon, to come forth but once more—and
■ J then as a spectacle for the un.'eeling multitude.
The day oi execution was pul oil’ rather
longer than usual, and thus greater time was
tl :;iven him to prepare for his final exit. A few,
• i very few friends, occasionally visited him;
- but they wer- short and rather irksome than
o itherwi'se. He was even denied the consola-
ion of seeing his mother; f,r she was stretch
: -d on a bed of illness, and few hopes of her re
t) covery were enteitained. Thus left alone
s iioped the few Incurs of existence which inter
. vened between the sentence and'the execution
, of William Brooklyn.
in our n r xt.}
. 1 From the Savannah Georgian, Jan. 2J.
i FROM FLORIDA.
The steam packi t Fores'er, Capt. Dillon,
arrived here this morning from Garey’s Fer
ry. From Capt. D. we derive the foil swing
I intelligence;
: Lieut. Powell with about 8") men, including
I : regulars, landed at Jupiu-r Inlet, ;m,| look a
> i squaw; she told them she would carry them
where the Indians were encamped, which was
I about 7 mihsoff Lt. P. attacked them, Mie
i Italians returned the fire with a great deal of
> spirit, when the-sailors ran, and li.-td ft not been
i for the artillery they would all have been cut
to pieces. All the office s were wounded, Dr.
Lightner was killed. The steamboats Win.
• Gaston, Cha rlcston, ami Jas Boati iuht, wen-at
5 St. John’s bar. waiting for favorable w< ath'T
to proceed to Indian river, where they were
j ordered by Gen. Jesup.
Since tlie above was in type, (and d ispatch.
• ed bv express mail yesterday.) we have, from
; ■ the friendl v attention of correspondents, recei-
i ved further particulars, which we hasten to
i lay before our readers.
j While our gallant officers are yielding eve
! ry thing, even life, at the call of flu-ir cotm
i iry, the w-zsr-acres in congrenw are seeking to
array their sympathies fur the murderous Se
minole against the necessities of our bleed.ng
troops. Is this a time for party donimciation,
when money is asked to relieve »n army sent
,’o exterminate these bloodhounds?—Let then
the wise men at Washington refrain from such
unseasonable waste of words.
A letter from “camp, near the Everglades,
and 25 miles west ofthe depot at Indian Riv
er Inlet,” dated January 18th, 1838 says—
“ You will hear, probably, before this reach
es you, that Lieut. Powell had a little brush
with the Indians near Jupiiei Inlet. It appears
that he landed with al out 80 men, sailors,
with the exception of 25 regulars. Soon nfier
i landing , he found an old squaw, who offered
to guide him to the place where the Indians
were —about 1 miles off. He followed her di
rection and came upon the Indians—some say
-16—some 60—and others 80 or more. The
fire commenced on his side, when the Indians
returned it with spirit, and soon put the sailors
into utter confusion, who fled, mid the whole
party would have been cut to pieces but for
t! e regulars, as Lieut. Powell and all acknowl
edge. Six or eight were killed and left upon
the ground, with a man who was only wound
ed, but could not retire. He was left to the
tender mercy of the Indians. Dr. Lightner of
the navy, was killed, and every officer woun
ded. The regulars behaved nobly.
Two ofthe beats were left, in one of which
were a keg of powder and a box of cartridges,
with rum, whiskey ami oth r sailor comforts.
W e arc within twenty mih-s ofFort Bassin
ger, one of the forts on Kissiu ee river. We
Slave now a cordon of posts from Charlotte
harbor to Indiar i ver, midmost ofthe Indians
are believed tv be South of us.
i