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—— Hi#!? 4 “The ferment of a free, is preferable to the torpor of a despotic, Government.» ■ ' • VOL. fit. Alims, GEORGIA*,'JCkB-lii* & '9 NO. 13. Woe tv». From Blackwood’* Magazine. THE EVENING STAR. Oh ! sweetly shines the summer 6un, When heivon from clouds is free ; And bngntJy gleams the moonlight on Fiold, rock and forest tree. But to tins pensive heart of love, Oh, sweeter than these by far, It is with devious step to rove, Beneath the evening Btar ! • To others give the festal hall, Where wino cups shine in light; The music of the crowded ball, With beauty’s lustre bright: But give to me the lonely dell, Oh, sweeter than these by far; Where pine trees wave and waters swell, Beneath the evening star. The d;.ys arc past that I have seen, And ne’er again sli ill see, When nature with a brighter green, O ersproad the field and tree. Though joyless not the presont day, Yet sweeter than it oy far, ’Tis on the past to muse and stray Beneath the evening star. For all the future cannot give What spareless time has left, And, oh ! sh.ee thou hast ceased to live, A vac in ..’orlu is left. 1 turn mu to iny days of love, The sweetest on eartli by far, And oft in thought with thee I rove Beneath the evening stir. i a c c U a u s>. From Ike New York Constellation. DARBY DOYLE’S VOYAGE TO QUEBEC. 1) ,rh\ Do. Ii: w.is as likely a lad us any withii. til’.y miles of the Lilly. He had lived i:i tae cabin which his father left him, .or 2 or 3 years ; indeed from bis birih he had no other ii.nne. 1) irby w is industrious, honest and quick tempereu, “ hut repeated misfor tunes,” as they are termed, thou-ii sometimes arising from our own mismanagement or nog- lect, will sometimes sour the best of tempers, and unsettle those who have been thought the most contented, and such was the case with D. rhv. To the enterprising, however, the darkest hour yields some hope ; and Darby’s spirit was of too buoyant a nature to continue lung under tnis state oi things. Accordingly, lie sold oti‘ tae rem.dns of his little stock, and with the br«..ss in his pocket, he started for the Cove of Cork io look out for a passage to America, across the nig waters.” . On the quay he met with an old playmate, one Med limn, who then held the office of ••mate” onboard one of the Quebec vessels. Ned desired him to “leave it all to him,” and Darby accordingly spent all his passage mon ey in treating his friend. The day came— Darby bad no cash, and, after much entrea ty, he prevailed on Ned to stutT him down be low in un empty barrel, where he lay snug for a month, Ned supplying him with neces saries ut stolen intervals. The ship w.is now within three day’s sail of Quehec; and Dar by desired Ned to lurnisli him with an empty meal hag, a. bottle, and a bare ham bone, and splash he went into the sea. We shall now leave our hero to relate his adventures in his own style : “ Well, to he sure, down in the sea I dropt without us much as a slush. Ned roared out with the hourscncss of a brayin’ ass—“ A man in the sea, a man in the sea.” Every man, woman and child came running up out of the holes, the captain among the rest; who put u long red barrel like a gun to his eye ; gibbet me hut 1 thought he was for shooting me! Down 1 dived; when I got my head over the water agen, what should I see but a boat rowiu to me as fast as a tnrout after a piukeen. When it came up close enough to he heard, I roared out, Bad end to yees, for a set ov spalpeen rascals, did you hear me at last ? The bo i iniw ran ’pon the top ov me; uovvi. i • .nil ,,i. I like a emit afl« r a. frog, but the mu.iui my 'skull tuine over the weath er 1 was giipt by the scruff ov the neck and dhr.igged into the boat. To be sure I didn’t kick up a row. Let go iny hear, ye blue dev ils, 1 roared, it’s well ye have me in your marcy i» this dissilute place, or by the pow- thers I’d mike you feel the strength of my bones. What hard work I had to follow ye’s at all at all—which ov ye is the masther ? As 1 sed thie, every mother’s son began to stare at me, with my bag round my neck, and my bottle by my sine, and the bare bone in my list. 4 “There he is,” sid they, point- in to a little yellow man in the comer of the boat. May the raise blisters on you rapinhook shins, siz I, ye yellow looking monkey, put it’s most time for you to think of letten me into your ship—I’m here plown and plungin this month und a great many days to boot, avic-—I did’nt care a thraween, was it not that you have my best Sunday clothes in the ship, and my name, in your books. For three sthraws, if I do not know how to write, I’d leave ray mark, and that on your skull; ? T _ 1 _ _ 1- 4 Kim uriflutkn t- and not take me up, I’d be in Quebec before you, only my purvisions were out, an the few rags of bank notes I had all melted into paste in my pocket, for I had’nt time to get them changed. But stay, wait till I get my foot on shore, there’s ne’re a cottoner in Cork iv you don’t pay for leavin me to the marcy of the waves. All this time the blue chaps were pushin the boat with sticks through the wather, till at last she came close to the ship. Every one on board saw me at the Cove, hut didn’t see me on the voyage ; to be sure, every one’s mouth was open crying, D..rl>) Doyle. Oh ! stop you throats, siz I, it’s now ye can tell me loud enough ; ye would’nt shout that way when ye saw me rowlin like a tub in a mill- race the other day fornenst your faces— When they heard ine say that, some of them grew pale as a sheet. But, my jewell, the captain does no more than run to the book, an calls out the names that paid, an them wasn’t paid; to be sure I was ov them that didn’t pay. If the captain looked at me before with wondhcrnicnt, he now looked with astonish ment ! Nothin was tawk’d ov for the other three days but Darby Doyle’s great shwim from the Cove to Quebec. One sod, ‘I al ways knew Darby to be a great shwiinmer.’ “ De ye remimber,” siz another, “ when Dar by’s dog was nigh been drowned in the great duck hunt, when he pealed off an brought in his dog, a..d made if:cr the duck imself, and swam for two hours edgewais; and do yc rcmiinber when all the dogs gather round the duck at onetime, when it wiut down how Dar by dived aft her it, an stoil down almos an hour —and stoil below while the crathur was eat ing a few i rogs, for see was weak .und hun gry ; and when every one thought he w.is lost, up he came with the duck by the leg in his kithogue, (left hand.) Faith, I agreed to all they sed, till at last we got to Amcrrykay. I was now in a quare way; the captain would’nt let me go till a friend of his would sec me. Bv this time not only his friends came, but swarms starin at poor Darby. At las! I called Ned, Ned avic, siz 1, I want to go about my business. “ Be izy, Darby,” siz he, “ hnv’ut you your fill of good atin, and the cuptin’s got mighty fond ov ye entirely,” «Is he, Ned,” siz I, “ but tell us, Ned, are all them crowds of people goin to sea ?” “ Augh, ye omadhaum,” (Muhara- medan) siz Ned, “ shure they are come to look at you.” Just as he said this, a tall yellow man, with a black curly head, comes und stares ine full in the face. “ You’ll know metagen,” siz I, “ bad luck to your manners, and the schoolmaster that taught ye.” But I thought he was goin to shake hands with me, when he tuck hould of my fist and open ed every finger one by one, then opened my shirt an looked at my breast. “ Pull away, mabouchal,” siz I, “ I’m iio disarthur at any rate.” But never an answer lie med me, but walk’d down in the hole where the captain lived. “This is more ov it, siz I, Ned, what could that tallah-faced man mean ?”' « Why,” siz Ned, « he was lookin to see iv your fingers were webb d, or had ye scales oil your breast. «• His impidence is grate,” siz I, “ did he take me for a duck or a bream ? But Ned, so saying, I made a lick at him witfothe ham bone, but I was near tumblin into the sea agen. ‘ An pray, what’s your name, my hid,’ says the captain. “ What’s my name! Faith, then it’s Darby Doyle, that urns never afraid ft. nnl.Mw.MJ An ....... I. .1 knmA Al* Jl!’ ■ or ashamed to own It at home or abroad. “An Mr. Doyle,” siz he, if do you mean to Persuade ns that you swum from Cork to this •after us T* This is more pf ycur ignorance, I; ay, on if you'sted three day# longer, what’s the mcanin ov the boonis acruss the stick the people walk on, and the big white boord up there ?” “ Why come over and read,” siz Ned. But, my jewell, I didn’t know whether I was stannin on my head or on my heels, when I saw in great big black letters —“ The greatest wonder in the world! To be seen here a man that beats Nicholas the Diver!! He swum from Cork to Arnerry- kuy!!! Proved on oath by ten' of the crew and twenty passengers. Admittance half a dollar.” « Oh lioilder” siz I, “ does this mane your humbly sarvint ?” “ Divil another,” siz he— then I jutiipt over, to the captain, who was near us. ** Why Darby,” siz he, “ I am af ter houlding a wager last nignt with this gin- tleman, for all the worth ov my- si:ip, that you’ll shwim against any shwiinmer i 1 me world ; and Darby, if* you don’t do that, I’m a j gone -man.” “ Augh, give us your fist, siz I, did you ever hear of Paddy’s dishavin any man in the European worl 1 yet —barring themselves?” “ Well Darby”, siz he, “I’ll ive \ on a hundred doll .rs; but Darby you must be to your Word, and you shall have ail- other hundred.” So sayin, he brought me down into the cellar; but, my jewell, I did’nt think for the life of me to see such a wonder ful place, nothing but goold every way I turn ed, and Darby’s own sweet face in twenty places. I was almost asham’d to ax the gin- tlcmnn for his dollars; but siz I to myself agen, the gintleiriah has too much money, I suppose he does be throwin it into the sea, for I often heard the sea was richer than the hind, so I may as well lake it any how * Now, Daiby,’ siz he, * here’s the dollars for ye.’ But it w.:s only a bit of paper he was handin me. * Arrah, none of yer tricks upon thravellers,’ siz-1, ‘ l had betther nor that, and many more ov them melted in the sea, give me what wont wash out ov my pocket.’ «Why, Darby,’ siz he, ‘ this is an ordher dn a merchant far the amount.’ * Pho, pho,’ siz I, • I’d sooner take your word nor his oath,* lookin round mighty respectful at ‘ thc gbold walls. * Well, well, Darby,* siz he, * ytfu must have the real thing ;* so, by the powers of war, he reckoned me out a hundred dollars siz he, ‘the deck is crowded, I had to block up the gangway to prevint any more from comin to see Darby. Bring him up, or blow me iv liie ship wont be sunk.’ ‘ Come up, Darby,’ siz the captin, looking roguish pleas ant at myself. So he handed me up through the hall as tendher as iv I was a lady, or a pound of fresh butthcr in the dog-days. When I got up, shure enough I couldn’t help* starin ; such crowds of fine ladies and gintlemen never was seen before in any ship. One of them, a littly rosy cheek’d beauty, whispered the captain somethin, but he siiuk his head and came over to me. ‘ Darby,’ siz he, < I know an Irishman would do any tiling to please a lady.’ ‘ In troth you may say that with your own mouth,’ siz I. ‘ Well then, Darby,’ siz he, ‘ the ladies would wish to see you give a few strokes in the sea.’— ‘ Och an they shall have them in welcome,’ siz I. ‘ That’s a good fellow,’ siz he'. So I made one race, and jumpt ten yards into the wather to get out ov their sight. Shure enough every one’s eyes danced in their head while they look’t on the spot where I went down. A thought came into my head while I was below, how I’d show them a little divar- sioo, as I could use a great many thricks on the wather. So I didn’t rise at all till I got to the other side, and every one ran to that side, then I took a hoult ov my two big toes, and making a ring ov myself, rowled like a hoop oi- the top of the wather all round the ship. I lulceve 1 opened their eyes! Then I yarded back, swum and dived, till at last the captain made signs to me to come out, so I got into the boat und threw on my duds.— The vpry ladies were breakin their necks run- ning to siiake hands with me. «Shure,’ says they, ‘ you are the greatest man in the world!’ So for three dais I showed off to crouds ov people. At last the day came when I was to stand the tug. 1 saw the captain looking very of- ten at me. At last, « Darby,’ siz he, * are you any way cow’d ? the fellow you have to swim against can swim down w itlierfalls an catheracts.’ Can he, avic, said I; but can he shwim up against them? Wow wow,Dar by for that! But captain, is all my provision ready ? don’t lqt me fall short of a dhrop.ov the rale stuff* above all things.—An who should come up while I was talkin to the cap tain, but the chap I was to shwim with an heard all I sed. By dads! his eyes grew big as oyster shells. Then the captain call’d me aside. “ Darby, siz he “ do you put on this green jacket an’ white trowsers, that the people may better distinguish you from the other chap.” With all my hearts, avic, siz I, green for ever—Darby’s own favorite col or the world over; hut where am I going to captain. * To the shwimming place to be shure,’ siz he. Devil shoot the failers a’ take the hindmost siz I, here’s at you. I was then introjuced to the shwimmer. I look- ed at him from head to foot. He was so tall that he could eat bread and butter over my head—with a face as yellow as a kite’s foot. Tip you mitten, mabouchal, siz I. (But by dad! I was puzzled. Siz I to myself I’m done. Cheer up, Darby ! if I’m not able to kill him, I’ll frighten the life ov him out.)— Where are we going to shwim to? But nev er a word he answered. Are you bothered neighbor ? ‘ I rccou I’m not,’ siz he,'mighty cliutf. Well then, siz I, why did’nt you an swer your betthers? What id ye think if we swum to Keep Cleer or the Keep ov Good Hope ? ‘ I reckon neither,’ siz he ageu, eye- in me us iv I was goin to pick his pockets. Well then, have jd any favorite place? siz I. Now, I’ve heard a great deal about the place where poor Bouey died; I’d any one to-show me the place : suppose, we wint their. Not a taste of a word could I gci out of him, good or bad. Off we set through the crowds ov ladies and gentlemen, vinov hats was never seen at Dan’s er,th an then the row or* prut' giris iaugi.in an/rub- in up against me, that i- could bar’ly get on. To be sure no one could be lookin to the ground an not be lookin at them, till at last I was tript up by a big loomp ov irjn stuck fast in the eroun !. with a hi : ring in it. « Whoo! D irby siz l, m akin u hop an a crack o’ my lingers, ‘you’re not down yet.’ I turned round to look at what thript me.—‘ What d’ye call tiiat ?’ siz I, to the captain, who was at my elbow. ‘ Why, Darby,’ siz he, ‘that’s half an anchor.’ ‘Have ye any use for it?’ siz I. «Not in the least,’ siz he,«it’s only to fasten boats to.’ ‘ May be you’d give it to a body,’ siz I. ‘ An welkim, Daiby,’ siz he, ‘it’s yours.’ ‘God bless your honor,’ siz I, it’s my poor father that would pray tor you if he was living; but any how it will serve me, as I can tie the horse to the nii'g wiiile I forge on the other part. • Will ye obleege me by gettin a couple ov chaps to lay it ou my shoul der when I get into the wather, and I won’t have to be coinin for it afther a shake hands with this fellow.’ By dad, the chap turn’d irom yallow to wliite when he heard me say this. And siz he to the gintlemen who was walkin by his side, ‘ I reckon I’m not fit for the 8hwiiumiu to-day—I don’t, feel myself. * An murdher an Irish, if year your brother, can’t you send him for yourself, an I’ll wait here till he comes. Here man, take a drop ! of‘this before ye go. Here’s to your better ' tifihlth, an your brother’s into the bargain; So I took oil* mjr-glass and handed him anoth- shook hands and purled. The poor fellow went home—tpok the fever—then began to rave. * Sliwim up cathuracts!—Shwim to the Cape of Good Hope !—Shwim to St. Hel ena !—Sliwim to Cape Clear!—Shwim with an anchor oil his back !—Oh ! oh !’ I now thought it best to be on the move ; so I gath er up -my winners and here I sit under my own "hickory threes, as independent as any Yankee.” • tn goold. »Now Darby,’ siz he, ‘ you are a rich man, an you are worthy of it all—sit down, Darliy, an take a bottle of wine.’ So, topleose tne gintlcman, I sat down. After a shwim, avic, siz I, mighty ,complis;uit. ’ reckon in another' u-ontr * o. bit, who comes down but Ned. « Captain,* er; but the ucver a dhrop ov it he’d take. * No force,’ siz I,«avic, may bee you think HOCK BRIDGE IN VIRGINIA. On a lovely morning, towards the close of spring, I found myself in a verv beautiful part of the Great Valley of Virginia. Spur red onward by impatience, I beheld the sun rising in splendor, and changing the blue tints on the tops of the lofty Alleghany mountains, into streaks of purest gold, and nature seem ed to smile in the freshness of beauty. A rids of about fifteen miles, and a pleasant woodland ramble of about two, brought my self and companion to the great Natural Bridge. Although I had been anxiously looking for- ward to this time, and my mind had been Considerably excited by expectation, yet I was not altogether prepared for this visit. This great work of nature is considcied by many as the second great curiosity in our country, Niagara falls being the first. I do not expect to convey a very correct idea of this bridge; for no description can do this. The Natural Bridge 13 entirely the work of God. It is of solid lime stone, and connects two huge mountains together by a most beau- • tiful arch, over which there is a great wag on road. Its length from one mountain to the other, is nearly 80 feet, its width about 35, its thickness 45, and its perpendicular height over the water is not far from 220 feet. A few bushes grow on its top, by which the traveller may hold himself as he looks over. On each side of the stream, and near the bridge,* ;.re rocks projecting ten or fifteen feet over ihe water, and from two to three hundred feet from its surface, all of lime stone. The visitor cannot give so good a des cription of this bridge, as he can of his fee lings at the time. He softly creeps out on a shaggy projecting rack, and looking down a chasm from forty to sixty feet wide, he sees nearly three hundred feet below, a wild stream foaming and dashing against the rocks be neath, as if terrified at the rocks above. The stream is called Coder Creek. The visitor here sees trees under the arch whose height is 70 feet; and yet, to look down upon them, they appear like small bushes of perhaps two or three feet in height. I saw several birds fly under the arch, and they looked like in sects. I tiirew down a stone, and counted 34 before it reached the water. All hear of heights and of depths, but they here sec what is high, and they tremble, and feel it to be deep. The awful rocks present their ever lasting hutments, the water murmurs and foams far below, and the two mountains rear their proud head,s on each side, separated by a channel of sublimity. Those who view the sun, the moon and the stars, and allow that noue but God could make them, will here be impressed, that none but an Almighty God could build a bridge like this. The view of the bridge from below, is as pleasing as the top view is awful. The arch from beneath, would seem to be about two feet in thickness. Some idea of the distance from the top to the bottom may be formed from the fact, that as I stood on the bridge and my companion beneath, neither of us could speak with sufficient loudness to be heard by the other. A man from either view docs not appear more than four or five inches in height. As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw the place whore visiters have often ta- Such cheerio an' w;u ken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here Washington climbed lip 25 feet and carved his own name, where it still re mains. Some, wishing to immortalize their names, have ejigraven them deep and large while others have tried to climb up and in sen them high in the book of fame. A few years since, a young man, bcin, ambitious to place his name above all others came very near losing his life in the attempt After much fatigue he! climbed up as high as possible, but found that the person who had before occupied his place, waritallerthui him self, and consequently had placed his name above his reach. But he was not thus to be discou raged. He opens a large jack knife and in the soft lime stone, began to cut places for his hands and feet. With much patience and industry he < worked his way upwards, and succeeded in carving his name higher than the most ambitious had done before him He.could now triumph, but his triumph, was short, for he was placed in such a situation that it was impossible'to descend, unless he fell upon the rugged rocks beneath him. There was np house near, from whence his com panions could get assistance. He could not loug remain in that condition, aud what was worse, his friends were too much frightened to do any thing for his relief. They looked upon him as already dead, ejecting every moment to see him precipitated upon the rocks below and dashed to pieces. Not sc With himself. His determine Jio ascend. Ac cordiugly, he plied himself with his knife, cut ting places for liis hands and feet, and gradu ally ascended with incredible labor. He ex erted every muscle. His life was at stake and all the terrors of death'rose before him. He dared not look downwards, lest ft* 3 ft ea ^ should become dizzy; and perhaps on this panions stood at the top of the rock, exhor. i ting and encouraging him. Iiis strength was almost exhausted ; but a bare possibility ot saving his life still remuiued, and hope, the hist friend of the distressed, had uot yet forsa ken him. His course upwards, was rather obliquely than perpendicularly. His most critical moment was now urtved. He had ascended considerably more than 200 feet, and had still farther to rise, when he felt him self fast growing weak. He thought of his friends and all his earthly joys, and he could not leave them. He thought of the grave, and dared not meet it. He now made his lust el and succeeded. He had cut his way not far from 250 feet from the water, iu a course al- most perpendicular; and in -,i little less than two hours, his companions reached him a pole from the top, and drew him up. They received him with shouts of joy ; but he himself was completely exhausted. He. immediately fain ted away on reaching the spot, and it was some time before he could be recovered. It was interesting to see the path up these awful rocks, and to follow in imagination this bold youth as • he thus saved his life. His name stands far above all the rest, a monu ment of hardihood, of rashness, and folly. political. Absorption of the Sxin. Many facts testify the action of cutaneous or external ab sorption. It is proved by direct experiment that tiie human hand, is capable of imbibing, in a quarter of an hour, an ounc^ and a half oi warm .water, which for the whole body, is at the rate of six or seven pounds per hour. An interesting narrative is on record ofa ship’s crew who were exposed at sea for sev eral days in an open boat ; they had consum ed all their water ; they had no fluid of any kind which they could diink ; they soon be gan to suffer thirst ; the feeling at length be came intolerable, and the drinking of sea wa ter was found only to increase its intensity. When nearly exhausted, they were exposed during several hours to a heavy shower of rain. As soon as their clothes became through, ly wet, their thirst ivas gone. They did not fail to profit by this experience. From this time, each man, as soon as he began to feel thirsty dipped his shirt in the sea water, and wore it next his skin, which invariably had the same effect of removing his thirst, the absorbents taking up the particles of water, but rejecting the saline matter dissolved in it. —London Monthly Repository. there’s poison iu it—well, here’s another good luck to us. An when will ye be able for the iVji reckon in another* week,* siz he. So we cirteumstance his life depended. His com A very desirable Machine.—A machine was exhibited to us, two or three weeks ago, for knitting stockings, Ac. exceedingly well calculated, we think, for family use, and very desirable, as affording employment, at home, to females dependant upon it for subsistence and support of their families, for its cost, in cluding the patent right, will not exceed fif teen dollars ; it is only about one foot square, and of the weight of ten pounds ; so that it is easily transferred from plate to place, as may be required, and no more power is needed for the crank than to move that of a common hand organ—and,except when a stitch is drop ped, or required to be added, a very small de gree of care is demanded. A girl 12 or 15 years old might give motion to, anil attend three or more machines, if arranged for the purpose of being worked together, as they might easily be. Each machine will make from one to two pair of men’s long stockings a day of woollen yarn—such as is usually worn in the winter season. The machine does not appear liable to get out of order, and but lit tle instruction is necessary. The machine we saw in operation was fit ted for knitting woollen stockings, such as are above mentioned—but machines may be made for fine work in cotton, thread or silk. We are glad to learn that a skilful mechan ist, resident near Baltimore, has obtained the right of making a certain number of these knitting machines ; and it may be expected that its quality drid capacity will soon be fol ly tested. It is the invention of John M’Mul- len and Joseph Hollen, jr. of Birmingham, Huntington county, Pennsylvania. The stitch- cs ;ire made just as if common knitting nee dles were used—except that the stocking re quires to be joined at the seam.—-Niles’ Re gister. The following article is calculated to excite unusual interest on account of the apparently authentic shape in which it appears, and the particular manner in which file fact of the in vention is stated. A machine such as is here mentioned, would effect more changes in the condition of mankind, than Have been pro duced by the united agency of the three groat discoveries of printing, gun-powder and steam. Wonderful Invention.-—A watchmaker of the name of Buschmaun, living at Eiseu- berg, not far from Altenbiirg in Saxony, has contrived a piece of machinery, which, with out the assistance of steam, has been found strong enough to move a heavily laden wagon, placed in a fresh-ploughed field, with -the greatest ease, although sixteen horses could not stir it. The machine may be easily han dled, and the vehicle moved by it most safely managed. The inventor has beep offered 200,000 dollars for the secret; but as he had obtained patents from all the principal German governments, he refused all offers. Advice Gratis.—A certain Judge, after hearing a florid discourse from a young law yer, advised him to pluck out some of the 'feathers from the wings of bis imagination and put them into the tailoiT hjs judgment. SPEECH OF HR. NISBET, OF MORGAN, Opposing the plan adopted by the Convention, and now before the people for their ratification or rejection. ' Mr. President,—I came here prepared to act upon this great question, in the spirit ot compromise. To yield somethiug, and to be content with any scheme for the reduction and equalization ot the General Assembly, wliicn might even approximate towards jus- tice. I discover no uisposiuou to nmet us of the middle country, the Tax paying part of Georgia, in any such spirit. The disposition and intent of those now holding power in the Legislature, is evidently, to retain what thev have, and to acquire what they may. To yield nothiug, and exact every thing. Ap. pearanccs indicate too, that they are likely to have the power, u s well as the will to con. trol the action of this body. Things seem to be taking a course, indicative oi auy thing, but a fair adjustment ot this all absorbing ques tion. An union, upon whut terms, is not yet developed; has taken place between the Pine barren and the extreme \Vest, and strange to tell, some gentlemen, repre- seating very wealthy counties on the coast'; aim others very po,,mous counties in the up country; are falling into the arrangement; it would seem to mu, at the sacahce of the interest of their constituents. Why, Sir, is it that we have not, upon tnis quesnou, a common and identical interest ? At least a common object in foe common good. Wc are now to remodel our organic Law—to settle principles for ages, arm to legislate for the unborn of future times. Wc should not approach this subject in levity, much less in jealousy. We should bring to our deiiber- atious, forbearance and patriotism, aud the good sense of all snould rebuke the spirit oi Party, and the agitations of sectional suite. Gentlemen trom the East ask us to forbear and beg us' to yield to tbuui something of power in the general assembly. Why, Sir, tne East is already too powerful—the mihor- ity, contrary to all principle, governs. We ask that this evil should be corrected—that the people should be heard in the enactment of laws—that ail parts of the State should he equally represented. The minority as yet has yielded nothing, and upon the plan before us, gains large accession of strength, and ye* that minority (I mean of the people) cry out for concession, aud clamor for mercy. They insist upon compromise. We are willing to compromise. But is that a compromise wltich retains all present power, ami exacts more? We have conceded largely to th in, as ! shall presently show, and what sir, havy they yielded in turn ? Nothing; but ur strenuously urging a scheme which places ih wealth and population of Georgia at foe trier cy of a few counties, neither populous nor rich. What is it that gentlemen expect ? A sectional veto upon the will of the majority 7 A power to impose all taxes in the hands of those who pay comparatively none? The creation of an aristocracy, without property and without titles, yet omnipotent in the Gen-, eral Assembly ? An aristocracy of latitude T Do tiiey really demaud a distinct, irrelevant, territorial check upon the majority ? I have heard sir, of the power 01 the veto iu the mi nority, as being the only conservative prin ciple of free government. This idea may’ or may not be good, when applied to an associ ation of sovereign States, by confederation. But who sir, ever claimed it, for a part of au integral, homogenious community ? No man m his senses ever did maintain a ground so . obviously fallacious. The .people are a whole with like political interests, and identity of political character; at least, sir, wc must so consider them when in the act of making their government. Counties too are claimed by gentlemen in the argument, to have some thing like corporation rights, and should therefore be represented without regard ei ther to population or taxation. This is in deed, a strange herosy, and if practised in this State, would very speedily give rise to the worst features 6f Borough representation'. We cannot, sir, in this, body respect these county limits. We are not here as repre sentatives of counties, but as delegates of tho whole People; nor can we under the Con stitution, recoguise counties us being auy thing more than portions of the People^ divided thus for greater convenience in the actual administration of the government. It is said that the States are as such equally represen ted in the Senate of the United States, and therefore should counties be equally represen ted in our own Senate. This conclusioa is a f.iir and full non sequitur; because there is nothing like analogy between counties in their relation to State governments and States in their relation to tj>e Federal Government. States are sovereigns, and in regard to the attribute of sovereignty are equal; arid in consequence of this equality hay^, as tiiey should have, the same representative power in the Senate. Not so, of course, with coun- Tbe plan proposed by the delegate from the county of Walton, reduces the Legisla ture too little, and makes the inequality in the, distribution of power, greater than it is under foe old Constitution. The expense and un wieldy size of the Legislature, is . it is true, •an evil of some tVagnitude, but is of small moment compareit' with, that distribution of power in both branches which places the ma jority of tl;e peoplo at the mercy of the mi nority. And sir, the scheme now under dis-