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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