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utikevn “ The ferment of n free, is preferable to the torpor of a despotic, Government.” ■ --.J.L-MJP VOfj. I. ATHENS, GEORGIA, AUGUST 10, 1832. NO. 21. From Badger's Weekly Messenger. LOVE, Is like a garden, all fragrance and flowers, Apparelled in roses and jesaamine bowers 7 Though gorgeous exotics reach proudly above, Ob. sweeter limn all is the Lily of Love. Do troubles come o’er us like clouds of the night, To shade the mild heaven of peace and delight 7 How calmly,—how soothing, it beums from afar, Undimmed by this tempest, Love’s beautiful nar. When hope is forgotten,-when burden’d with care, The heart is o’erwholmcd hi the sea of despair,— How bold and undaunted it floats on the wave, The barque of Affection,—to rescuo and save. Pure, noble Affection,—a charm to allay, The fever that wasteth tho spirit away, A vision of gladness—its wo to destroy: To lighten its sadness—to temper Us joy : It fillcih creation—unbounded by earth, Eternal its nature—immotlal its birth. Ay: hark! Mia the chorus of Angel’s above, Forever, and ever—Jelinah is f are! —— Extract from Knowles’ new play—“ The Hunchback.” TOWN AND COUNTRV. Julia. This rural life of mine, Enjoined me by an unknown father’s will, |’ve led from infancy. Debarr’d from hope Of change, I ne'er have sighed for change. The town For mo was like tho inoon, fur any thought I o’er should visit it—nor was I school’d To think It half so fair. Have your town palaces a hall like this 7 Couches so fragrant 7 alls so high adorned 7 Casements with such festoons, and such look out, As these fair vistas have 7 Your Kings and Queens! Sec me a May-day Queen I I’m wedded to a country life I Oh I did you hear what Master V\ alter says 7 Nine limes in ten the town’s a hollow thing, \\ here what things ore is nought to wlmt they shew j Whero moiit’s name laughs merit’s self to scorn ; Where friendship and esteem, they ought to bo The tenants of men’s hearts, lodge in their looks And tongues alone. Where folly taketh offhiscapand bells Toclap on Wisdom, which must bear thejest ; W icrc to pass current, you must seem the thing, The pasiive thing, that others think, and not Your Simple, honest, independent self. JKtgrcUam Tho extreme delicacy of mind and high breeding indicated hy the following story, oun- noi foil of rendering it acceptable to every tea- tier—while the judicious hints it contains il lustrate a style of domestic life that strongly commends itself to nil lovers of home and quiet hy its simplicity, elegance, and refine ment.—Spirit of the Times. THE MARRIED MAN’S STORY. I had tho pleasure, a few days ago, to meet unexpectedly a friend, from whom I was many years separated. We had been mostly educa ted together, having past our boyhood at the same school, our youth at the same universi ty ; but our fortunes were different. Ho, bom to wetillh, left college to mix with tho world at home and abroad; while I turned to tho profession t had long since made choice of, and began to lag my weary way towards inde pendence. Wo were both n good deal changed. My friend li«d lost w'tcii of tho eav ^;,yaney of manner, much of tho merry, happy, careless SiJvv of spirits for which he had once been re markable. I was less grave than I had been reckoued during our former acquaintance: yet I am n man of business and married. Wo hud much to soy of different rhanens that had occurred to us; und I found, that though al tered in maimer, in habits, and in character, wo met the samo to each other as wo had par ted. It was getting late in the day, and I asked my friend if lie would go homo to tho small house I occupied, mid dine quietly with my wife and mo. He agreed instantly, shook hands with me in his own lively way, as he thanked roe for asking him, nnd we turned in to the street in which I lived. I must own I felt some little uneasiness at the thought of introducing tny wife. I had oflen spoken of him to her, oral I dreaded, lest she should not find tho portrait faithful. In fact, I mistrusted my own judgment till it should he confirmed by hers; not that in words she would tell me that we differed, but 1 knew loo well in look and manner to bo deceived. 1 did not feel quite easy either at the iden of pre-enting my friend. Ills admiration would in no degree oiler my sentiments town'Mt her: but I fell I should be ill satisfied unless he thought her, in the course of one short evening, nil I had found her during the three happy vears of our # union. My heart heal as I ran up the steps. 1 coloured as 1 pulled the bell. The doer was opened by our only man servant, and I myself ushered my friend up stairs. My wifo was dressed with extreme neatness, though she expected we wero to dine ulone; and she was sitting, as usual, at her work ta ble, when the sound of my stops upon the stairs made her raise her head. She came for ward to meet me; and when I named my friend, she turned to welcome him with a grace and gayely that mBde him sure of his recep- tion. She placed him beside her on the sofa, and I was soon at ense as to first impressions. AVe hnd not far to go to dinner. The lower part of the house being occupied by mv cham bers of business, oor public room on the first floor, and a atill smaller library opening out of if. In this library we dined. The dinner was ordered with neatness and taste, and ser ved without display in an apartment simply furnished. Mv wife is not one of those who, to make parade upon occasions, lesson the comforts of our every day life. She has nev er, since we were murried, set before me a din ner I might not have brought a friend to partake of; nor has she ever appeared before me in a dress she could not hove worn on occasions of ceremony. Yet our expenses do not hy any means, come up to nur limited income. It is Iruo our wants are faw • but wo increase our [usuries as we go on. We do not live in the world, but we live much in society ; society that we like, nnd that likes us and assimilates with us. All this, and mnre, in tho warmth of my heart, I told my friend over a bottle of mv host wine, when my wife rose and loft; and we were still upon the same theme when we joined her again at the tea table. lie be gan to rally us upon our way of life and he tried to persuade her that, in former days, I had played the inconstant among nur circle of beauties, being fond to admire, and fickle fo change. I saw that in his then mood it were in vain for me to dispute his assertions to divert the time, and, may be, to prevent my wife from thinking of any other, I pleaded guilty to one serious attachment, and offered to tell my story. “ Some years ago,” said I, “ when it first became the fashion to take shooting quarters in Ihe Highlands, I formed one of a large par ty who had engaged an extensive trart of moorland for the season. The gamekeeper and the dogs were sent off early in July, and it was settled we tvoro all to dine together at tho fnrm house we rented with the ground, upon the 10th of Augost. My friends agreed to proceed northward in a body : but as I dis like exceedingly travelling in that sort of com pany, I declined forming one of it, and set out by myself, some weeks before, on a tour through a range of my native country 1 had never yet seen.” At this part of my story my wife laid down her work, and looked up anxiously in my face : I smiled and proceeded :— “ Alter an interesting and somewhat fati guing journey, 1 arrived early on the morning of the 10th of August, at one ol the principal towns of the north Highlands. It was mar- ket-duy, and the streots were filled with crowds of well-dressed people, throngiog in every di rection. Several handsome equipages were driving along the crowd, whilo gentlemen on horseback and foot passengers picked their way carefully through tho groups of country people uod their wares, who stopped every reg ular passage. I alighted at a very comfortable inn, nnd having ordered some refreshment, I set down very contentedly to took over a newspaper which lay upon tho tablo of the parlor 1 had been shown into, when chancing to raise my head, my eyo fell upon a mirror, which hung upon tlio opposite wall, between Ihe portraits of General Washington and Mr. Till, 1 was struck with horror at my own up- peurunec. Hastily tinging for the waiter, 1 inquired whether there were any lmir-drcsscrs in towu upon whom 1 might rely. 1 was told 1 was within a lew doors of the first artist in iiiv C’.'uutry. A man don’t like to trust his lieud to u bunglor; but the first step in Mr. Blank’s shop convinced me that the waiter lind mu hf-1-n wroll-J •'* his *' were fixed nn mine. In another moment she was gone. I drew my head in haslily, flung my hands before my face, to cxdudo all light, anil again in fancy, those beautifol eyes beam ed brightly upon me. After a few minutes I looked up. Crowds of gay passengers still moved on the pavement below and talked, and laughed, und looked as they passed me. Will she come again ? .1 took out my watch : it was only three o’clock. Again 1 glanced at the projseiu.g wall, and I followed, eagerly, each succeeding group, as they emerged from behind it. Many a voice deceived me :.s it approached. Many a parly turned the corner to disappoint me. Four o’clock: she will not come. I rose from the window in despair.— As I stood, the sound of a voice I had heard before arrested my etlenlioq. There was n laugh, and a stamp, and u jingling noise, and then the end of a sword scabbard pointed out beyond the wall. It was the recruiting officer Did he come ulone I The little child run for ward ; the lady in gray pot out a fool; and again the eyes from the pink bonnet sought the window. We blushed crimson. The young lady turned to her never failing resource, the recruiting officer; I darted forward, seized my hat, rushed down stairs, and followed her. They had reached Ihe h nr dresser’s shop, und stopped before it to examine some of the curi ositios. The older Indy in gray look the little child by tho hand and walked on. Tho young lady prepared to follow her. but as she moved away, she cast ono glance towards the window of Ihe inn; it was quite deserted- I neither stirred nor spoke; but I saw from her height ened color she was aware who stood beside her. She held a small nosegay iu her hand. She began to pull to pieces the flowers which composed it, and scatter the leaves upon the pavement. A carriage was in wailing at the end of the street; it drew up us the party ap proached. A footman opened the door and let down the steps, and the re-'ruiling officer Imn ded the ladies into it. Me laid his arms upon the door, and stood and talked for some minutes. It was an open carriage; the young lady was leaning thoughtfully against the cushions. The officer talked longer; at length ho bowed, and they drove away. I had not been wrong o non the operation was over, I surveyed myself with much satisfaction in a hand glass, obli gmgly held to mo for the purpose; but not feeling myself at liberty to indulge my contem plation so publicly, 1 returned us quickly as possible to my hotel, to consult at leisure the mirror which hung upon tho opposite wall be tween tho portraits of General Washington and Mr. Pitt- 1 was perfectly enchanted with the good mien. 1 was cut aud curled in the most becoming manner. Here m> wife laughed aloud: my friend, too, smiled ; but 1 took no nutice of their in terruption. “ The inn stood back from the street, in a large court-yard, the projecting walls ol which on each side prevented uny view boyond.— Across this court-yard uumbers of people were constantly passing. 1 sot down ut tho open window of tny parlor to watch the vurious groups thus flitting belorc me. One, in pur- ttculur, ut once engaged my ullontion : it con sisted ol un elderly lady in gray, a child in a frock und irowsers, u young lutly iu white, with piuk upou her bonnet, und a captain of a recruiting company quartered in the town.— He was apparently saying something extreme ly amusing, lor the lady was laughing violent ly ; aud broking up m her mirth, she threw on me, us i sat perched ut my window, a pair of the must beauitlul black eyes 1 had ever then sceu. 1 fancy mine must have told her so, for she hud not gone many steps before sbe raised these eyes again. Again they met mine, and this tunc, we both blushed- She withdrew hers quickly, and turned to the re cruiting officer: lie buwed as in the act of speukiug. The lady iu gray appeared to join in tho con- veriutlon ; and they all walked leisurely on towards the projecting wall. W ill she look up ogam ! 1 pushed tny well curled head os far us 1 could out of the window. She holds hers 1 thought resolutely down. 1 followed them with my eyes, us they Btepped along across the pavement. They reached the wall. The little child run quickly out of sight. The lady in gray was hall concealed. The young lady returned reply to aunio gallantry of the rectuiiing officer, nod onco more her eyes was standing before a druggist’s shop, suppor ting myself on the brass railing that protected As the carriage whirled rapidly past, I ventured one last glance upon the pink bon net. Site was still leaning back agumst the cushions, and the remains oflicr nosegay were beside her. As she passed she extended the hand, whiter than snow, which held it, over the, side of the open rarriage, pressed it for un inslunl to her breast, her lips, and dropped it gently til my feel. I started forward to re ceive the precious gift—” “ Oh don’t believe him,” cried my wife, in terrupting me; “ it id ull a romance, it is in deed ; I never looked—l never meant—I—’’ I interrupted her in my turn, and seizing tho hand she had extended in the energy of the moment, I pressed it, as site bad dune the nosegay she gave ntc- The following strange and mournful story is in an ted fur lire Albion, from the Mtrnnirif of a celebrated French woman : Miss G lived with Lord Byron near ly a year, pogo in the da}’, woman at night.— Attentive, tender, and sincere in her love olid attachment, she perhaps hoped that wedlock might some day restore her to the world.— This secretly-entertained illusion, combined with a character naturally gay, completely blinded this young lady to the real slate of her case. She had left in London a father in but middling circumstances, and to whom eve ry fortnight she ufforded pecuniary assistance. At length some indiscreet friend wrote to her to say that this forsaken father, in a moment of despair, had shot himself. Gould it bo the consequence of his omburrnssed affairs, or on urenun! of Ins dishonored daughter! Miss G. unfortunately harbored thu lutler idea, bin she said nothing to Lord Byron, who remark ing that she now often uvoided Inin, und occu pied herself in wrung, at length succeeded in surprising her and discovered her secret. Miss G ——— had determined to poison herself,, and had written her declaration io that effect, in order thut after her death no one might be accused or implicated therein. Lore.* Byron now causes her to bn watched,and Lov ing possessed himself of the poisonous pow der she had produced, substituted in its place one completely of innocent nature. One eve ning Miss G. affected moro than usual gaiety, und pretended to sleep calmly by tire side of her lover, who, being uwuro that she thought that uhu hud swallowed that very day the draught which was to consign her to the other world, was hoping to laugh llm next morning at her unexpected awakening after u sleep which she fully expected to be her last. Lord Byron, however, had no reason for indulging in sleep himself; but what was hia anxiety and distress of mind at dawn of morning, to be uble no where to find Miss G —■ ! The letter which announced her fatal determination was upon the (able. Doubtless, thought Ins lordship, convinced that the fatal fluid is circu lating in her veins, she must have absented herself to avoid shocking me with tho first eight of her as a corpse—but she will return restored even by her own attempt; and with this hope Lord Dyron became more rompo- «cd. Nevertheless, Miss G ■ returned no more, and every possible inquiry proved useless. It was mu till oiler Ihe lapse ol u whole week that this misguided and unfortu nate ludy was found, in the last agonies of death, hi tho sepulchral tomb of the Byrona, where she had shut herself in so ns to he quite unable to get out again. What must have been her anguish of mind during eight long days of agony, suffering the tortures of hunger instead of poison ! “ This melancholy catastrophe,” said Lord Byron, “ has worked more upon my mind and imagination than any of tho vain motives to which persons have wished to attribroe the cu- prico of my disposition ; my natural gaiety of mind being dried up iu its fountain-spring, I henceforward sought the reputation of an as sumed gaiety to drive away intrusive melan choly. You may now understand whence arises the bitterness of my smile.” A Test.—Wo have hoard n story ufu Cath olic Priest, which is too good to ho lost. We know not whether a has ever appeared in print before or not. A jolly friar who was to read a homily to a congregation on a certain occasion, was, while wailing for Ihe lime for him to officiate, play, ing cards in an apartment adjoining tho Church He stationed a lad at tho door to give him no- lice when he was wanted—but at the moment that he was called he had just “dealt.” His own bund wus an excellent one and determin ed not to lose it, lie ugreed with his comrades, that ouch should keep his cards and continue the game alter service. Clapping tho cards up the sleeve of Ins surplice, ho walked into the desk, holding the end of his sleeve with his fingers. 11 is subject was the remissnesa of parents in tho moral instruction of their children. As he proceeded in Ins discourse ho waxed warm in his gestures und motions—till forgetting the deposit in his sleeva. lie struck the pnltns of his open hands together, und out flow the spot ted telltales, to the amazement of tho congre gation. All were disconcerted hut tho friar. Lean ing over the desk ho called to u little urchin of five or six, “ Boy pick up one of those rards!” This done, the Priest demanded of the hid— Now tell me what it is.” It’s the ten of sputlcs,*aid tho boy. “ Behold hern parents,” said the Priest, “ a proof of wlmt 1 have told you. I scattered these among you to con vince the congregation that these clnldrcti un. derstood cards heller than their prayers I”— Lou ell Compend. Character ol Ihe Fly.—Imagine the cndcu. vor to fume afly! It is obvious that there is no gelling at him ; lie does not comprehend you; lie knows nothing about you; it is doubt ful, in spile of his large eyes,'whether he even sees you, or at least to any purpose of recogni tion. How capriciously and prevailingly he glides hither and thither! Wlint angles and diagrams he describes in his locomotion, seem ingly without any purpose, lie will peg away at vour sugar, hut stop him who cun when he is done. Thumping (if you could get some fairy slick that would do it with impunity) would h-YC nr, "Seel on a creature who simll bump his head half tho morning at a pane of glass, ami never learn that there is no getting through it. Solitary imprisonment would be lust on the incompiehcusiblc little wretch, who can stand still with as much perlinucily us he cun hustle about, and will slick n whole day in one posture. The best thing to be said of him is, that he is fond of cleaning himself as a cat, doing it much in tho same manner; nnd I hot lie often mbs his Imnds together with nu ap pearance of great energy nnd satisfaction. jVcte Monthly Mag. gteiftfttrl. Mr. VOKSYTII’* ^PUlilll Un Mr. Poindexter'a motion indefinitely to post• pone the bill for reducing the duties on Imports. Mr. President,—Tho Senator from Missis- sippi w ill not give a vole from which his sanc tion of this hill can ho implied, und hia motion is made to prevent misconception us to the motive which has governed his previous vote on the question of indefinite postponement, In-fore the highly objectionable amendments of the Senate, rejected by the House of Re presentatives, had been uhandoued here. In tending to vole iu the negative nn this proposi tion, tho remarks made by its uulhor, with others of a similar character, which have fall en Irom some ol the Southern Senators, make it necessary for me to say a low words in ex planation. I shall do so with tho brevity be fitting this udvunced period of the session, and lire late hour bf the night. I prefer tho bill belbie you to the act of 1828. I vote for it, bncuusn it repeals that act; proposes to reduce the rovenue to the public wonts, relieves tho people from the burthen of millions of taxation, and is an evi dence of tho desire of those who believe in the justice and policy of the protective system, so to modify the existing law, us to mako it less obnoxious to our feelings, nod less injurious to our interest. 1 nm told, Sir, that the pro tective principle is to he found hi this bill. It is. I am sorry for it. It is then against my wishes and exertions. But am I to hu told that I udopt this protective principle because my vote is given tor the hill in preference to the existing law ? Is not Ihe protective prin ciple in the act of 1628 ? Does the rejection of this bill bnnish it from our political system ? No, Sir, it stands, as before it Stood, in the mosf odious and hateful form; nnd shall I bo charged with acknowledging its justice or ad mitting its authority, because I prefer it m the modified and leas odious shape which it has been made to assume ? I repel the imputa tion. I will not retort upon those who act dif ferently, although it is in my power. Those who vote to reject this bill, if their purpose is accomplished, fix the principle as firmly upon the country, ax it will be fixed by the passage of thu hill .before us. They as clearly adopt y their negative pregnant vote, Ihe principlo if protection us those who vole for the adop tion of this modification of it. By preventing the repeal of itie act of 1828, they impliedly support all Ihutuct contains. A conclusion to their prejudice, is ns fair ns that against uu w ho will take the opposito course. I do not draw this conclusion f the purpose of the Southern Senators is avowed; they wilt not coimteiianco the principle; let them huvo croilil for it. All I ask is, that when forming conclusions on this subject, they yield to the others, lire justico exercised towards them.-?^ Let them admit, thut we do not adopt, or ap prove, or countenance, the protective princi ple, by preferring this measure to tho existing law. 1 do not deny, Sir, that those who th .* that the continuance of jho act of 1828 may he produclivn of u still more favorable moitifi. cation of tho revenue system, than tho present lull, at the next session of Congress, are quito right to desiro it to remain unrepeoled. Did I entertain tlint opinion, i should act with them. That this hope is vain, must be obvioug to tho least observing. No important changes in tho character of Congress can bn expected to occur by tho next winter. The same opin ions,tho same feelings, will continue to operate upon tho same persons, aud tho results of ano ther winters discussion, will ho similar to the results of tho cffirla of tho last six months. It is possible, that, hy hearing with the act, till a now Congress is elected, under tho Into up. porlionment of representatives, and a partial cliunge in this body occurs, happier results might bn anticipated ; but Sir, this anticipa tion does not justify Ihe continuance of tho burthens of un unnecessary taxation. Arc gentlemen willing to collect ten millions ot extru revere,.', for the chance of moro enlight ened opinions in tho Congress of 1834 and ’5! In my judgment, without estimating the dan ger of suffering Ihe present public excitement to continue, without an efl'orl to nlluy it, it would bo unwise and unjust to purchase) this chance at so high a price. If, ns I hope and trust, the next Congress should bring moro correct opinions into the public councils, iliu abolition of the protective principle, ns it ap pears in this hill, will bo n work of us little dif ficulty, und as acceptable, us the banishment of it, by the repeal of the act of 1828. One word, Sir, to those who nro the friends of the protective principlo; who reully be lieve, in defiance of fact und reason, that its preservation is essentially connected with the best interest of the whole country. Do not deceive yourselves, gentlemen. This bill is no compromise—will net bn so considered.— It is received us nn evidence of your desiro to accommodate your principles, in the legisla tion of the country, to our feelings. It is not thut accommodation. You have stopped far short of the true point, upon which the south ern and northorn principles must unite. Thin is only the first step. As such I liopo il will ho considered, and so considered, that it will prevent all violent denunciations and idle itle- nuocs. But the protective principle must nnd will ho abuudouod ; reason, justice, patriotism, demand it, nnd their voice must bo sooner of later obeyed. As for myself, never buying given n voto on any question which can bu tortured, (unless by those who are ptrudelei- mined to find pretexts to complain of my con duct,) into un approbation of the principle, it will meet from me u ceaseless und uncom promising hostility, until tho fatal error of 1S1G shall bu corrected. I hud hoped, I cannot say that I confidently expected, such no adjustment of this vexed question, as would have deprived ull portion* of thu country, nnd ull parties in tho Untoti, of just motive fur again agitating it, before a now crisis in our fiscal affairs should render it absolutely necessary. In this hope I have been disappointed. Those who have the power, have most unwisely, as it regards the interest of the whole country, and especially of that class of tho community to whose bene- * lit they liavo almost exclusively looked, left the subject in such a state, that a recurrence to it is inevitable. It will ho again agitated ; under, 1 trust, happier auspices. Truth and justicu may ho evaded for a season by indue. Irious error end ever active cupidity ; but their eventual triumph is certain. The time cornea —I wail for it—confiding, that it is naldts- taut. From the Washington Clobc. The Ajterpieee.—After the debate upon tho President’s veto was doted, Mr. Clay pro. dared a scene in tho Senate which struck Ilia crowd iu tho galleries nnd Senate Chamber, collected to hear the end of a speech which Mr. Benton had begun the day before, with ustonishinent. It lias been the subject of con versation for several days in tho city, and 4*