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TE Vol. I. PUBLISHED EVEHY TUESDAY MORNING BY SAHIEL S JACK. Terms. Tnr.ES Dollars per annum,in six months or four Doi. tars at tho expiration of the year. Subscribers living out of the State, will be expcctcdin ailcaeesto pay in advance. No subscription received for less than ono year, unless the money is paid in advance; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrearges are paid, ex ccpt at the option of the Publisher. Persons request ing a discontinuance of their Papers, are requested to bear in mind a settlement of tb iir accounts. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual ra.es; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered out. O’All Letters to the Editor or Publisher, on matters connected with the establishment, must oe Post Paio :u order to secure attention. 83" Notice of the salo of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, must bo pub lished sixty days previous to the day of sale. O* Tho .le of Personal Property, in like manner, must bo published forty days previous to the day of sale. 3J" Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must bo published forty days. O' Notice that Application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for Leave to sell Land and Ncgfoes, must be published four months. [LT Notice that Application will be made for Let ters of Administration, must be published thirty days and Letters of Dismission, six months. 3j* For Advertising—Letters of Citation, 2<5 (T-TNoticc to Debtors and Creditors, (40 days,) 3 25 Four Pvlcnth Notices, 4 00 Sale -: of Personal Property by Executors, Adminis trators or Guafdiens, 3 25 ’ Sales of Land or Negroes by do. 4 75 Application for Letters of Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cents for every tcirtecn lines of small typo, (or space equi valent,) first insertion, and 50 cents for each weekly continuance, ff published every other week, 62J cts. for each continuance. If published onco a month it will be charged each time as a new advertisement, i’or a single insertion one Dollar per square. w in ■> ■ ■ .'I sJ! ■. _UL-...1LL ■■"".'■HU. 'The fool hath said in hit lieart there in laG Ch>«l. — Psalm 11th. "Nd CJjtP. jVo GW!” The simplest flower That on tho wild is found, Shrinks as it drinks its cup of dew, And trembles nt the sound: “No God!” astonished Echo cries From out her cavern ho-:, And every wandering bird that flies Reproves the Atheist lore. The solemn forest lifts his head, Tho Almighty to proclaim. The brooklet, on its vrystiid urn, Doth leap to grave his name, High swells the deep and vengeful sea, Along his billowy track, And red Vesuvius opt s hio mouth, To hurl the falsehood back. The palnviroo with its princely crest, The cocoa’s leafy shade, The brand fruit bonding to its lord, In yon far island glade; Tho w inged seeds, that borne by winds, Tho melon, on the desert sands, Confute tho ecorner’s creed. “.Vo GW!" With indignation high Tho fervent soul is stirr’d. And tho pale Moon turns paler still, At such an impious word. And from the burning throner, tho Stars Lockdown with angry eye, That thus a worm of dust should mock Eternal Majesty. L. IL S. J 1111 1 • - HI I JI C K L D A Ml. • THE SOLDERS RETURN. Seven or eight years I was travelling between Berwick and Selkirk, and, having started at the crowing of tho cock, I had left I Melrose before four in tho afternoon. On ar. riving at Abbotsford, I perceived a Highland soldier, apparently fatigued as myself, leaning upon a walking slick, and gazing intensely on tho fairy palace of the magician, whose wand is since broken, but whose magic stiff re. mains. I ant no particular disciple of Lava ter's, yet the man carried his soul upon his thee, and we wore friends at the first glance. He wore a plain Highland bonnet and coarse S ray great eoat, buttoned to tho throat. His rest bespoke him to belong to only the ranks; but there was a dignity in his manner, and a fire, a glowing language, in his eye, worthy of a chieftain. His height might exceed five feet nine, and his age be about thirty. The paces of manly beauty were still upon his ItOffi FLOYD COUNTY, GEORGIA. OCTOBER 16, 1838- cheeks; but the sun of a western hemisphere’ had tinged them with a sallow hue and imprint ed untimely furrows. Our conversation related chiefly to the clas sic scenery around us; and we had plensanly journeyed together for two or ' <ree n;:; when we arrived ata little sequester'd burial ground by the way side, near v/hicn there was neither church nor dwelling. Its low wall was thinly covered with turf, and we sat down upon it to rest. My companion became silent and melancholy, and his eyes wandered anx iously among the graves. '“Here,” said he, “sleep some of my father’s children, who died Li infancy.” lie picked up a small stone from the ground, and throwing it gently about ten yards, “That,” added he, “is the very spot. But, thank God! no grave stone has been raised during my absence! It is a token ,1 shall find my parents living—and,” continued he, with a sigh, “may I also find their love. It is hard, sir, when the heart of a parent is turned a gainst his own child.” He dropped his head upon his breast for a few moments and was silent, and, hastily rais ing liis fore finger to bis eyes, seemed to dash away a solitary tear. Then turning to me, he continued: “You may think, sir, this is weakness in a soldier; but human hearts beat beneath u red cord. My father whoso name is Campbell, and who was brought from Ar gyleshire while young, is a wealthy farmer in this neighborhood. Twelve years ago, Mov ed a being gentle as the light of a summer moon. We were children together, and she grew in beauty on my sight, as the star of c vening steals into glory through the twilight. But she was poor and portionless, the daught er of a mean shepherd. Our attachment of fended my father. He commanded me to leave her forever. 1 could not, and he turned me from Lis house. 1 wandered, I knew not, and I cared not, whither. But I will not de tain you with my history. In my utmost need I met a sergenn! of the forty-second, who was then upon tho recruiting service, and in a few weeks i joined that regiment of proud hearts. I was at Brussels when the invita tion'; to tho wolf and the raven rang at mid through tho streets. It was the herald of a day of glory and of death. There were three Highland regiments of us —three joined in one—; fried in rivalry, in love, and in pur [.'<• ;■?; and, thank Fate! I was present when the Scots Greys, flying to our aid, raised the elec tric shout, “Scotland forever!”—“Scotland for over!’’ returned our tartaned clansmen: “Scot land forever!” reverberated as from the hearts we had left behind us; and “Scotland forever!” re-echoed Victory!” “Heavens!” added he, starting to his feet, and grasping his staff, as the enthusiasm of the past gushed back upon his soul, “to have joined in that shout was to live an eternity in the vibration of a pendulym!’’ In a few moments the animated soul that gave eloquence to his tongue drew itself back inttßhc chambers of humanity, and resuming his seat upon the low wall, he continued, “1 left my old regiment with tho prospect of pro motion, and have since served in the West In dies; but I have heard nothing of my father — nothing of my mother—nothing of her I love.” * While ho was yet speaking, the grave dig ger, with a pick-axe and spade over his shoul der, entered the ground. He approached within a few yards of where we sat. Ile mea sured off a narrow piece of earth —it encir cled tho little stone which tho soldier had thrown to mark out the burial place of his family. Convulsion rushed over tho features of my companion; lie shivered—he grasped my arm —his lips quivered—his breathing be came short and loud—-the cold sweat trickled from his temples. He sprang over the wall— he rushed towards the spot. “Man!” he exclaimed in agony, “whose grave is that?” “Hoo? awa’ wi* ye,” said the grave digger, starting back at his manner; “whatua away is that togliff a body!—arc yc dal ?” “Answer me,” cried the soldier, seizing his hand; “whose grave—whose grave is that?” “Mercy me!” replied tho man of death, “ye are surely ut o’ your head—it's an auid body that ca’d Adam Campbell's grave—now are you ony thing the wiser for spierin?” “My father!” cried my comrade as I ap- I preached him; and clasping his hands togeth er, ho bent his head upon my shoulder, and wept aloud. I will not dwell ujion the painful scene.— During his absence, adversity’? l !ad given the fortunes of his father to the wmd; and he had died in an humble cottage unlamcnted and un noticed by tho friends of his prosperity. At the request of my fellow traveller, I ac conipanied him to the house of mourning.— Two or three poor cottagers sat around the fire. The coffin, with the lid open, lay across tho table near the window. A few white hairs fell over the whiter face of the deceased which seemed to indicate lhat he died from sorrow rather than from age. The son pressed his lips to his father’s cheek. He groaned in spirit, and was troubled. He raised his head in agony, and, with a voice almost inarticu- W isdom,jMs«icc, and operation. late with grief, exclaimed, inquiringly, “My ■ mother?” 'Fhe wondering peasants started to their feet and in silence pointed to a lowly bed. He hastened forward—he fell upon his knees by tho bed-side. “My mother! —O my mother!” he exclaim ed, “do not you, too, leave me? Look at me I am your own son—your own Willie— have you, too, forgot me, mother? ’ She too, lay upon her death bed, and the tide of life was fast ebbing; but the remember cd voice of her beloved son drove it back for a moment. She opened her eyes—she at tempted to raise her feeble hands, and it fell upon his head- She spoke, but he alone knew the words that she uttered; they seemed ac cents of mingled anguish, of joy, and of bles sing. For several minutes he bent over the bed, and wept bitterly, lie held her withered hand in his; he started; and as wo approached him, the hand he held was stiff and lifeless. — He wept no longer—he gazed from the dead body of his father to that of hi-; neither —his eyes wandered wildly from the. one to the other, he smote his hand upon his brow, and threw himself upon a chair, while misery transfixed him, as ts a thunderbolt had enter ed his soul. I will not give a description of the melan choly funeral, and the solitary father’s obsequies were delayed, and the son laid both his parents in the same grave. Several months passed away before I gained information respecting the sequel of my little story. After his parents were laid in the dust, William Campbell with a sad and anxious heart, made inquiries, after Jeanie Leslie, the object of his early affections, to whom we have already alluded. For several weeks his search was fruitless; but at length he learned that property had been left to her father by a distant relative, and that he now resided some where in Dumfricshire. In tho same garb which I have already de scribed the soldier, he set out upon his journey. With little difficulty he discovered the house. It resembled such as are occupied by the high er class of farmers. The front door stood open. He knocked, but no one answered. — He approached along the passage —he heard voices in an apartment on his right—again he knocked but wyis unheeded. A group was standing in the middle of the floor, and among them a minister commencing tho marriage service of the Church cf Scotland. The bride hung her head sorrowfully, and tears were stealing down her checks—she was his own Jeanie Leslie.' The clergyman paused. The bride’s father stopped forward angrily, and inquired, “What do you want, sir?” but in stantly recognizing bis features, he seized him by the breast, and in a voice half-choked with passion, continued —“Sorrow take yc for n scoundrel! what’s brought ye here—and the mair especially at a time like this? Get out o’ my house, sir! I say Willie Campbell get out o’ my house and never darken my door again wi’ your ne’er do well countenance!” A sudden shriek followed the mention of his name, and Jeanie Leslie fit’ll into the arms of her brides-maid. “Peace, Mr. Leslie!” said the soldier, push ing tho old man aside; “since matters are thus I will only stop to say farewell—for auld lang syne—you cannot deny me that.” He passed towards the object of his young love. She spoke not—she moved not —he took her hand, but she scorned unconscious of what ho did. And, as he again gazed upon her beautiful countenance, absence became as a dream upon her lace. Tho very language he had acquired during their separation was laid aside. Nature tiiumphed over art, and he addressed her in tho accents in which he had first breathed love, and won her heart. “Jeanie!" su'd ho, pressing her hand be tween his, “it’s a sair thing to say farewell, but nt present I maun say it. This is a scene 1 never expected to see, for oh Jeanie! I could have trusted to your truth and to your love, ns far as the farmer trust to seed time and to har vest, and is not disappointed. Oh! Jeanie, woman’ this is like separating the flesh from the bones, and burning the marrow? But ye maun be anither’s now—farewell’ farewell!!” “No 1 no!—my a n Willie!’’ she exclaimed, recovering from the agony of a stuperfaction, “my hand is still free, and my heart has been yours—save Willie! save me!” and she threw herself into his arms. The bridegroom looked from one to another, imploring them to commence an attack upon the intruder, but ho looked in vain. Tho fa ther again seized the old grey coat of the sol dier, and almost rending it in twain, discover ed underneath, to the astonished company the richly laced uniform of a British officer. He dropped the fragment of the outer garment in wonder, and at the same time dropped his wrath, exclaimed, “Mr. Campbell!—or what are ye?—will you explain yourself?*' A few words explained all. The bride groom. a wealthy, middle aged man without a heart, left the house, gnashing his teeth. Bad ly as our military honors are conferred, merit is not always overlooked even in this country, where money is every thing, and the Scottish soldier had obtained the promotion he deserv- ed. Jennie’s joy was like a dream of heaven. Ina few weeks she gave her hand to Captain Campbell of his Majesty’s regiment of Infantry, to whom years before she had given J her young heart. From Mr. Stephen's new 1 Incidelsr of Travel.' | THE BATTLE OF GROKOW. The battle of Grokow, the greatest in Eu rope since that of Waterloo, was fought on ■ on the twenty-fifth of February, 1831, and ■ tho place where I stood commanded a view of; the whole ground. The Russian army j was under the command of Diebitsch, and , consisted of one hundred and forty-two thou- . sand infantry, forty thousand cavalry, and i three hundred and twelve pieces of cannon, i This enormous force was arranged in two lines of combatants, and a third of reserve. Its left wing, between the Wavre and the , marshes of the Vistula, consisted of four di visions of infantry of forty.seven thousand men, three cf cavalry often thousand five hundred, and one hundred and eight pieces of cannon; the right consisted of three and a half divisions of cavalry of fifteen thousand seven hundred and fifty men, and fifty-two pieces of cannon. Upon the borders of the great forest opposite the Forest of Elders, con- i spicuous from •where 1 stood, was placed the | reserve, commanded by the Grand Duke Ccn- I stantine. Against this immense army the Poles j opposed less than fiftytthousnnd men and a | hundred pieces of cannon, under the command j of General Skrizynecki! At break -of day the whole force of the Russian right wing, with a terrible fire of sis. ty pieces of artillery and columns of infantry, charged the Polish left “with tho determination of carrying it by a single and overpowering effort. The Poles, with six thousand five bun dred men and twelve pieces of artillery, not yielding a foot of ground, and knowing they could hope for no succor, resisted this attack for several hours, until the Russians slackened their fire. About ten o’clock the plain was suddenly covered with the Russian forces, is suing from the cover of the forest, seeming one undivided mass of troops. Two hundred pieces of connon, posted on a single line, com menced a fire which made the earth tremble, and was more terrible, than the oldest officers, many of whom had sough at Marengo and Austerlitz, had ever beheld. The Russians now made an attack upon the right wing, but 1 failed in this as ujxm the left; Diebitsch direc- I ted the strength of his army against the for , cst of elders, hoping to divide the Poles into [twoparts. One hundred and twenty pieces 'of cannon were brought to bear on this one ■ point, and fifty battalions, incessantly pushed j to tho attack, kept up a scene of massacre an ; heard of in the annals of war. A Polish of. i freer who was in the battle told mo that the small streams which intersected the forest ' were so choked with dead that tho infantry I marched directly over their bodies. Tho he roic Poles, witti twelve battalions, for four hones defended the forest against the tremen dous attack. Nine times they were driven ’ out, and nine times, they repulsed the Rusians ' with immense loss. Butteries now conccntra ! ted in one point, were in a moment hurried to and tho artillery advanced to the ' charge like cavalry, sometimes within a him- Idred feet of the enemy’s columns, and there ' opened a murderous fire of grape. At three o’clock, the Generals, many of : whom were wounded, tho most of whom had ; their horses shot under them, and fought on ’ foot at the head of their divisions, resolved j upon a retrogade movement, so as to draw the i Russians on the open plain. 'l'ho Russian j troops then debouched from the forest, a cloud of Russian cavalry, with several regiments of heavy cuirassiers at their head, to the attack, i Colonel Pientka, who had kept up an unre j mitting fire from his battery for live hours, ’ with perfect sang froid, upon a disabled piece of cannon, to give another effective fire, then left al full gallop a post which he had so lomr t occupied under the terrible fire of the enemy’s ' artillery. This rapid movement of his batte ry animated the Russian forces. The caval ry advanced on a trot upon the line of a batte ry of rockets- A terrible discharge was pour ed into their ranks, and the horses, galled to madness by the flakes of fire, became wholy ’ ungovernable, and broke away, spreading dis order in every direction; the whole body' swept lwdplc#sly along the fire of the Polish infantry, and in a few minutes was so com ; pletely annihilated that, of a regiment of cui ‘ rassiers who bore inscribed on their helmets . the “Invincibles,” not a man escaped. The wreck of the routed cavalry, pursued by the lancers, carried along in its flight the columns of infantry. A general retreat commenced, and the cry of “Poland forever!” reached the walls of Warsaw to cheer the hearts of its anxious inhabitants. So terrible was the fire of that day, that in the Polish army there was not a Single general or staff officer who had not his horse killed or wonded under him; two.thirds of the officers, and, perhaps, of the soldiers, had their clothes pierced with balls, and more than a tenth part of '.he army were wounded. Thirty thousand Russians and ten thousand Poles were left on the field of battle; rank upon rank lay prostrate on tho earth, and the forest of elders was so strewed with bodies that it received from that day tho name of the “forest of the dead.” The Czar heard with dismay, and all Europe with aston. ishment, that the crosscr of the Balkan had been foiled under the walls of Warsaw. All day my companions said, the cannonad. ing was terrible. Crowds of citizens, of both sexes and ullages, were assembled on the spot where we stood, earnestly watching tho progress of the battle, sharing in all it vicissitudes, in the highest state of excitement as the-clearing up of the columns of smoke showed when the Russians or Poles had fled; and he described the entry of the remnant of the Polish army into War saw as sublime and terrible; their hair and fa ces were begrimmed with powder and.blood-, their armor shattered and broken; and all, ev en dying men, were singing patriotic songs; and when the forth regiment, among whom was a brotlisrof my companion, had particularly distinguishe 1 themselves in the battle, crossed the bridge and filed slowly through the streets, their lances shivered a. gainst the cuirasses of the guards, their hel mets broken, their faces black and spotted with blood, some erect, some tottering-, and some barely able to sustain thcmselvesTn the saddle, above the din of the chorus of patriot ic songs rose the distracted cries of nTothcr% wives, daughters, and lovers, seeking among this broken band for forms dearer than life’, many of whom were then sleeping on the bat tle-field. My companion told me that he was then a lad ol seventeen, and had begged jj ith tears to be allowed to-accompany his brother; but his widowed mother extorted from him a promise that he would not attempt. All day he had stood with his mother on the very spot where we did, his handin hers, which'she grasped convulsively, as every peal of cannon seem cd the knell ol her son; and when the lancers passed, she sprang from his side as she recog nised in the drooping figure of an officer, with his spear broken in his hand, the figure of the gallant boy. lie was then reeling in his sad dle, his eve was glazed and vacant, and he died that night in their arms. | Life in the Southwest.—-A friend itt Louisiana writes, under date of the 31st ult. that a fight took place a few days ago iri Madison parish, 66 miles below Lake Provi dence, between a Mr. Nevils and a Mr. Hnr per, which terminated fatally. The Police Jury had ordered a road on the right bank‘of the Mississippi, and the neighboring planters were out with their forces to open it. For some offence, Nevils, the superintendent of operations, flogged two of Harper’s negroes.' I he next day the parties met on horseback when Harper dismounted and proceeded to cowskin Nevils for the chastisement inflicted on the negroes. Nevils immediately drew a pistol and shot his assailant dead on’the spot. Both were gentlemen of the highest rc’ncc'a* bility. ’ / An affray also came off recently, as the ’ same correspondent writes us, in Ravmend, II i nds conn ,y, Mississippi which, for a serious one, was rather amusing. The Sheriff had a process to serve on a man of the name’of Bright, and, in consequence of some diflieultv ! and intemperate language, thought proper to commence the service by the application 'of h’s cowskin to the defendant. Bright thereupen floored his adversary, and, wresting his cow hide from him, applied it to its owner to tho extent ot at least live hundred lashes, mean while threatening to shoot the first bystander who attempted to interfere. The Sheriff was carried home in a state of insensibility, and his life has been despaired of. The ’Mayor of the place, however, issued his warrant and startedthree of the Sheriffs deputies in pur suit of the delinquent, but the latter, after kee • ping them at bay till they found it impossible to arrest him, surrendered himself to the mag istrate, by whom he was. bound over to tlio next Circuit Court. From the Mayor’s office,, his honor and the parties litigant proceeded to the tavern to take a drink byway of ending hostilities- But the civil functionary refused to sign articles of peace by touching glasses with Bright, whereupon lhe latter made a fu rious Jassault upon him. and then turned and flogged “mine host” within an inch of his lifo because he interfered’ Satisfied with his day’s work, Bright retired. Can we show any such specimens of chivalry and refinement in Ken tucky?—Louisville Journal. First Departure of a Steam Vessel for St. Petersburgh.— On the Ist of August, the steam ship Sirius, recently trading between London and New Yopk, sailed from east lane stairs, Bermondsey, for St. Petersburg This is the first steam ship that has left the Thames for the Russian capital. She had a number of passengers—principally merchants, ‘ Bennett of the New York Herald, says t lat the English surpass us in many things, but in women and horses we beat them out and out. IVO, 20*