Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

Bv wn stoic k JlirtiocAtc, DAVIS A SHORT, PUBLISHERS. VOLUME X. The Brunswick •Advocate , Is published every Thlrskay Morning, in the city of Brunswick, Glynn County, Georgia, at ‘SCI per annum, in advance, or .$4 at the end of the year. No subscriptions received for a less term than six months and no paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid except at the option of the publishers. (O’All h'tOSts and communications to the Editor or Publishers in relation to the paper, •must be POST PAID to ensure attention. O-ADVERTISEMENTS conspicuously in serted at One Dollar per one hundred words, for the first insertion, and Fifty Cents for ev ery subsequent continuance—Rule and figure work always double price. Twenty-live per cent, added, if not paid in advance, or during the continuance of thq advertisement. Those sent without a specification of the number of insertions will be published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. Legal Advertisements published at the usual rates. (LpN. B. Salesof Land, by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the Court-house in the county in which the property is situate.— Notice of these sales must be given in a public gazette, Sixty Days previous to the day of sale. Sales of Negroes must bo at public auction, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual hours of sale, at the place of public sales in the county where the letters testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, first giving sixty days notice thereof, in one of the public gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court-house, where such sales are to be held. Notice for the sale of Personal Property, must be given in like manner, Forty days previous to the day' of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Es tate must be published for Forty days. Notice that application will he made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must be published for Four Months. Notice T>r leave to sell Negroes, must be published for Four Months, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. ?i i ss: 8a l, i i* v. MONOS Ai\p DAEMON OS. A LEGEND RY BCLWER. I ant English by birth, and iny early years were passed in * * * * *. I had neither brothenUnor sisters; mv mother died when I was in the cradle ; and 1 found my sole companion, tutor, and play mate in my father. He was a younger brother of a noble and ancient house: what induced him to forsake his country and his friends, to adjure all society, and to live on a rock, is a story in itself, which has nothing to do with mine. As the Lord liveth, I believe the tale that I shall tell you will hate sufficient claim on your attention, without calling in the history of another to preface its most exquisite details, or to give interest to its most amusing events. I said my father lived on a rock—the whole country round seemed nothing but rock ! —waste, bleak, blank, dreary; trees stunted, herbage blasted; caverns, through which some black and wild stream (that never knew star or sunlight, but through rare and hideous chasms of the huge stones above it) went dashing and howling on its blcsstd course: vast cliffs, covered with eternal snows, where the birds of prey lived, and sent, in scream sand discordance, a grate ful and meet music to the heavens, which seemed too cold and barren to wear even clouds upon their wan, gry.y co'.ifortle.-s expanse : those made- the character oftliat country where the spring of my life sick ened itsell away. The climate which, in the milder parts of ***** relieves the nine months ot winter with three months of an abrupt and nutumnlcss summer, never seemed t.,> vary in the gentle and sweet re gion in which my home was placed, l’er h.ips, for a brief interval, the snow in the valleys melted, and the streams swelled, and a blue, ghastly, unnatural kind of vegetation seemed here and there to mix with the rude lichen, or scatter a grim smile over minute particles of the univer sal rock ; hut to these witnesses of the changing season were tlie summers of my boyhood confined. My father was addict- cd to the sciences—the physical sciences —and possessed but a moderate share of learning in anything else: he taught me all he knew ; and the rest of my educa tion, Nature, in a savage and stern guise, instilled in my heart by silent but dee]) lessons. She taught my feet to bound, and my arm to smite; she breathed life into my passions, and shed darkness over my temper; she taught me tooling toiler, even in her most rugged ami uiialluring form, and to shrink from all else—from the companionship of man, and the soft smiles of woman, and the shrill voice of childhood ; and the ties, and hopes, and socialities, and objects of human exis tence, as from a torture and a curse.— Even in that sullen rock, and beneath that ungenial sky, I had luxuries unknown to the palled tastes of cities, or to those who woo delight iu an air of odours and in a land of roses! What were those luxuries? They had a myriad of varie ties and shades and enjoyment —they had but a common name. What were those luxuries 1 Solitude ' My father died when I was eighteen: I wasteansferred to my uncle’s protection, and I repaired to London. 1 arrived there, gaunt and stern, a giant in limbs and strength, and to t lie tastes of those about me, a savage in hearing and in mood. — They would have laughed, hut I awed them; tiiey would have altered me, hut 1 changed them ; I threw a damp over their enjoyment,and a cloud over their meetings. Though I said little, though I sat with them, estranged, and silent, and passive, they seemed to wither beneath my pres ence. Nobody could live with me and be happy, or at ease! I felt it, and 1 hated them that they could not love me. Three years passed—l was of age —I demanded my fortune—and scorning social life, and pining once more for loneliness, I resolv ed to journey into those unpeopled and far lands, which if any have pierced, none have returned to describe. So 1 took my leave of them all, cousin and aunt—and when 1 came to my old uncle, who had liked me less than any, lie grasped his hand witii so friendly a gripe, that, well I ween, the dainty and nice member was hut little inclined to its ordinary functions in future. I commenced my pilgrimage—l pierced the burning sands—l traversed the vast deserts—l came into the enormous woods of Africa, where human step never trod, nor human voice ever startled the thrilling and intense solemnity that broods over the great solitudes, as it brooded over chaos before the world was! There the primeval nature springs and perishes, un disturbed and unvaried by the convulsions ol the surrounding world; the leaf be comes the tree, lives through its uncount ed ages, fulls and moulders, and rots and vanishes, unwitnessed in its mighty and mute changes, save by the wandering lion, or the wild ostrich, or that huge serpent —a hundred times more vast than the puny boa that the cold limners of Europe have painted, and whose hones the vain student has preserved as a miracle and marvel. There, too, as beneath.the heavy and dense shade I couched in the scorching noon, 1 heard the trampling as of an army, and the crush and fall of the strong trees, and beheld through the mat ted houghs the behemoth pass on its ter rible way, with its eyes burning as a sun, and its white teeth glistening in the rabid jaw, as pillars of spar glitter in a cavern ; the monster to whom only those waters are a home, and who never, since the wa ters rolled from the Daidal earth, has been given to human gaze and wonder hut my own! Seasons glided on, hut 1 counted them not ; they were not doled to me by the tokens of man, nor made sick to me by the changes of his base life, and the evidence of his sordid labour. Sea sons glided on, and my youth ripened in to manhood, and manhood grew gray with the first roseot age : and then a vague and restless spirit fell upon me, and 1 said in my foolish heart, ‘1 will look upon the countenances of my race once more !’ 1 retraced my steps—l recrossed the wastes —1 re-entered the cities—l took again the garb of man; for 1 had been hitherto naked in the wilderness, and hair had grown over me as a garment. I repaired to a se: 'port, and took ship for England. in the vessel there was one man, and only one, who neither avoided my com panionship nor recoiled at my frown.— lie was an idle and curious being, full of the frivolities, and egotisms, and impor- j tancc of them to whom towns are homes, ! and talk has become a mental ailment.— He was one pervading, irritating, otli nsive tissue of little and low thoughts. The ou ■ly meanness he had not was fear. It was | impossible to awe, to sfiencc, or to shun him. lie sought me for ever; he was as ! a blister to me, which no force could tear | away : my soul grew faint when my eves j met his. He was to my sight as those | creatures which from their very loathsonie- I ness are fearful as well as despicable to us. J longed and yearned to strangle him when he addressed me ! Often I would have laid my hand on him, aud hurled him into the sea to the sharks, which, lynx-eyed and cagcr-jawcd, swam night and day around our ship ; but the gaze of many was on us, and I curbed myself, and turn ed away, and shut my eyes in very sick ness ; and when 1 opened them again, lo ! he was by my side, and bis sharp, quick ; voice grated, in its prying, and asking, i and torturing accents, on my loathing and ; repugnant ear ! One night I was roused from my sleep by the screams and oaths iof men, and 1 hastened on deck: we had I struck upon a rock. It was a ghastly, but ]oh Christ! how glorious a sight! Moon light still and calm—the sea sleeping in saphires; and in the midst of the silent 1 and soft repose of all things, three hun dred and fifty souls were to perish from 'the world! I sat apart, and looked on, and aided not. A voice crept like an ! adder’s hiss upon my ear; I turned, and j saw my tormentor; the moonlight fell on | his face, and it grinned with the maudlin i r rin of intoxication, and his pale blue eye glistened, and he said, ‘We will not part ! even here !’ My blood ran coldly througli BRUNSWZCK, GEORGIA, TSiURSUAY WORSTING, JULY 6, 1337. !my veins, and I would have thrown him j into the sea, which now came fast upon ; us ; but the moonlight was on him and I did not dare to kill him. But I would ! not stay to perish with the herd, and I j threw myself alone from the vessel and j swam towards a rock. Isawa shark dart j alter me, but I shunned him, and the nio i ment after lie had plenty to sate his maw. I heard a crash, and mingled with a wild 1 burst of anguish, the v.nguish of three hun dred and fifty hearts that a minute after ' ward were stilled, and 1 said in my own \ heart, with a deep joy, ‘His voice is with the rest, and we have parted!’ I gained 'the shore, and lay down to sleep. The next morning ny eyes opened upon | a land more beautiful than a Grecian’s j dreams. The sun had just risen, and i laughed over streams of silver, and trees j bending with golden and purple fruits, | and the diamond dew sparkled from a sod j covered with ilowers, whose faintest breath was a delight. Ten thousand birds with j all the lines of a northern rainbow blend ed in their glorious and growing wings, j rose from turf and tree, and loaded the | air with melody and gladness; the sea, | without a vestige of the past destruction ; upon its glassy brow, murmured at my feet; the heavens without a cloud, and bathed in a liquid and radiant light, sent their breezes as a blessing to my cheek. I rose with a refreshed and light heart; 1 traversed the new home 1 had found ; I climbed upon a high mountain, and saw that 1 was on a small island—it had no trace of man—and my heart swelled as I gazed around and cried aloud in my exul tation, ‘I shall be alone again!’ I de | scended the hill: I had not yet reached its foot, when I saw the figure of a man ap proaching towards me. I looked at him, | and my heart misgave me. lie drew near | or, and 1 saw that my despicable persecu j tor had escaped the waters, and now stood ; before me. He came up with a hideous I grin and his twinkling eye; and he Hung : his arms round me, —I would sooner have | felt the slimy folds of the serpent, —and j said, with his grating and harsh voice, |‘ila! ha! my friend, we shall be together | still!’ ,1 looked at him, but I said not a j word. There was a great cave by the shore, and I walked down and entered it, and the man followed me. ‘We shall live so happily here,’ said lie, ‘we will never separate!’ And my lip trembled, and my hand clenched of its own accord, it was now noon, and hunger came upon me; 1 j went forth and killed a deer,and 1 brought it | home and broiled part of it on a lire offra | grant wood : and the man eat, and crunch -1 ed,and laughed,aud I wished that the bones j had clinked him ; and he said, when we had ; done, *We shall have rare cheer here!’— ! But I still held my peace. At last lie [stretched himself in a corner of the cave | and slept. I looked at him, and saw that the slumber was heavy, and 1 went out and .rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the ‘ cavern, and took my way to the opposite 'part of the island ; it was my turn to lau- h then! I found out another cavern; and J 1 wrought a table of wood, and 1 looked out j from the mouth of the . .ivern and saw the wide .seas before me, and said ‘Now 1 shall | be alone!’ W hen the next day came, I again went ! out and caught a kid, and brought it in, and I prepared it as before; but J was not hun- Jgercd, and could not cat; so 1 roamed forth, and wandered over the Island : the sun had* nearly set when 1 returned. 1 entered tho cavern, and sitting on my bed and by my table was that man whom 1 i thought 1 had left buried alive in the other leave, lie laughed when lie saw me, and [laid down the bone he was gnawing. “11a! ha!” said he, “you would have served me a rare trick; -but them was a hole in the cave which you did not see, j and 1 got out to seek you. It was not a difficult matter, for the island is so small; j and now we have met, and we will part j no more!” I said to the man, “Rise and follow ( me!” So lie rose, and Is iw that of all j iny food he had left only the bones.— | “Shall this thing reap and 1 sow !” thought I !, and my heart felt to me like iron. 1 ascended a tall ciiff: “Look round,” I said I, “you see that stream which divides | the island: yon shall dwell on one side, I and l on the other; but the same spot I shall not hold us, nor the same feast sup ply !” “Tint may never be!” quoth the man; “for 1 cannot catch the deer, nor spring upon the mountain kid : and if you feed me not, 1 shall starve !” “Are there not fruits,” said I, “and birds that you may snare, and fishes which the sea throws up ?” “But I like them not,” quoth the man, and laughed, “so well as the flesh of kid.? and deer !” “Look then,” said I, “look: by that gray stone, upon the opposite side of the stream, 1 will lay a deer or a kid daily, so that you may have ihe food you covet; but if ever you cross the stream, and come in to my kingdom, .so sure as the sea mur murs, and the bird flies, 1 will kill you!” I descended the cliff, and led the man “HEAR ME FOR MY CAUSE." to the side of the stream. “I cannot swim, said he; so I took him on my shoulders and crossed the brook, and J found him out a cave, and I made him a bed and a table like my own, and left him. W hen 1 was on my own side of the stream again, I bounded with joy, and lifted up imy voice: “i shall be alone now,” said I. j fco two days passed and I was alone.— .On the third 1 went after my prey; the | noon was hot and I was wearied when I returned. I entered my cavern, and bc ■ hold flic man lay stretched on my bed.— “Ha! ha!’ said he, “here l am: 1 was wo lonely at home that 1 have come to live j with yon again !” J frowned on the man with a dark brow, ; *ttid I said, “Mo sure as the sea murmurs, and the bird Hies, I will kill you!” 1 j seized him in my arms; i plucked him from my bed; I took him out in the open air: and we stood together on the smooth sand and by the great sea. A fear came sud denly upon me; 1 was struck by the awe ol the still Spirit which reigns over soli tude. Had a thousand been round us, 1 would have slain him before them all. 1 feared now because we were alone in the .desert, with silence anil God! 1 relaxed !my hold. ‘Swear,’ I said, “never to mo lest me again ; swear, to preserve unpass- Jed the boundary of our several homes, [and I will not kill you!” “I cannot I swear,” said the man, “i would sooner die than foreswear the blessed human face— even though that face he nit enemy’s!” “At these words iny rage returned; 1 dashed the man to the ground, and 1 put iny foot upon his breast, and my baud up on his neck ; and lie struggled for a mo ment—and was dead! 1 was startled : and as l looked upon his (ace 1 thought it seemed to revive; J thought the cold blue eje fixed upon me, aud the vdc gnu re turned to the livid mouth, and the hands which in the death-pang had grasped the sand, stretched themselves out to me. So I stamped on the breast again, and I dug a hole in the shore, and 1 buried the body. “And now,” said I, “I am alone at last!” And then the sense of tonrliness, the vague, vast, comfortless, objectless sense of des olation passed into me. And I shook— shook in every limb of mv giant frame, as il I had been «t child that trembles in ; flic dark; and my hair rose, and mv i blood crept, am! i would not have staid in I that spot a moment more il l had been made [young again for it. I turned away and i lied—lied round the whole island: and | gnashed my teeth when I came to the sea, land longed to be cast into some ilimitalde desert that 1 might Hee on for ever. At 'sunset 1 returned - to mv cave—l sat my j self down on one corner of the bed, and ; covered my face with my hands—l thought I heard a noise : 1 raised my eyes, and, as ' i live, I saw on the other end of the bed the man whom 1 had slain and buried.— i 1 here lie sat, six feet, from me, and nod- J ded to me, and looked at me with Ids wan | -“yes and laughed. J rushed from the 1 cave—l entered a wood—l threw myself I down—there opposite lo me, six feet from I :.iy lace, was the face of that man! And my courage rose, and I spoke, hut lie an swered not. 1 attempted to seize him, he I glided from my grasp, and was still op posite, six feet from me as before. 1 | flung myself on the ground, and pressed j my head to the sod, and would not look jup 'hi night came on, and darkness was !ow r the earth. 1 then rose and returned .to the cave: I laid down on the bed, and the man lay down !>v me; and 1 [ frowned, and 1 tried to seize him as before, (but 1 could not, and 1 closed my eyes, and the man-day in/ me. Day pa. sed on jikv, and it was the same. At hoard, at ; fed, at. home and abroad, in mv up-rising land down-sitting, by day and at night, ithere, by my bed-side, and six feet from line, and no more, was that ghastly tiling. | And 1 said, as I looked upon the beautiful I land and still heavens, and then .turned to ]that fearful comrade, “1 shall never he 1 alone again?” And the man laughed. At last a ship came, and i hailed it— lit took me up, and i thought, as 1 put my j foot on the deck, “I shall escape my tor- I incuter !” As 1 thought so, 1 saw him climb the deck too, 1 strove to push him down into the sea, but in vain; he was |by my side,.oar/ he fed and slept with me .as before! I came home to my native i land! I forced myself into crowds—l j went to the feast, and 1 heard music—and ! 1 made thirty men sit with me, and watch [by day and by night. So 1 had tliirt v-orti companions, and one more social than all , the re.-t. At last I said to myself, “This is a de lusion-, and a cheat of the.external senses, and the tiling is not, save in my mind. 1 ! will consult those skilled in such disorders, and 1 will be alone again !” \ I summoned one celebrated in purging | from the mind’s eye its flints and deceits— I bound him by an oath to secrecy—and I told him my tale. Ho was a bold man and a learned, and lie promised me relief and ! release. j “Where is the figure now,” said he, (smiling; “I see it not.” | And I answered, “It is six feet from II Q I'* 1 “I see it not,” said he again; and if it j were real, my senses would not receive the image less palpably than yours.” And lie spoke to me as schoolmen speak. I did not argue or reply, but I ordered mv servants to prepare a room, and to cover the floor wi*li a thick layer of sand.— V. hen it was done, I hade the Leech fol low me into the room, and 1 barred the door. “Where is the figure now?” re peated he, and J answered, “Six feet iroui us ns before!” And the Leecli smiled. “Look on the floor,” said I, and I pointed to the spot: “what see yoti ?” j And the Leech shuddered, and clung to jmo that he might not fall. “Thatsand,” • said lie, “was smooth when he entered, and now I see on that spot the print of hu man feet!” And I laughed, ami dragged my living ! companion on: “See,” said I, “where we [move what follows us!” I The Leecli gasped for breath; “the print,” said he, “ofthose human feet!” “Can you not minister to me then?” cried I, in a sudden fierce agony: “and j must 1 never he alone again ?” And 1 saw the feet of the dead thing i trace one word upon the sand ; and the | word was—NEVER. From Blackwood's Magazine for March. ' BALLOON ADVENTURE AT NIGHT, j Mr. Holland, a gentleman of scientific | habits, projected the enterprise which has | strikingly signalized mrostution of our [day. On Monday, November 7, 183(J— --|at half past one in the afternoon, the bal loon rose front Vauxhall Gardens with a i moderate breeze from the Southeast. It [passed over Kent. The weather was sin j gularly line. At five minutes past four | they first saw the sea. After passing Can [ terlmry the course altered towards the [ north, which would have carried them into the German Ocean. The point was now to change the course in the direction of Paris. Ballast was now thrown out,the bal loon rose into an upper current, recovered her direction to the southeast, and cros sed the Straits of Dover in exactly an hour, about 3000 feet above the level of the sea. It was fifty minutes past five, conse quently the balloon rapidly plunged into night. The aspect of the world beneath now became curious in the extreme.— | The whole plane of the earth’s surface for j leagues round, as far and farther than the j eye could distinctly embrace, seemed ab jsolutcly teeming with the scattered fires of I the population, and exhibited astarry spec i tacle below, that almost rivalled the lus jture of the firmament above. Incessantly, i during the early portion of the night, be ; fore the inhabitants had retired to rest, large sources oflight, exhibiting the pres ence of some more extensive community, would appear just looming above the hor izon in the direction in which they were i advancing, bearing at first no faint resem -1 hluucc to some vast conflagration. By i degrees, as they drew niglier, this confu ted mass of illumination would appear to • increase in intensity, extending over a large portion of the view, and assuming a 'more distinct appearance, until at length, as the balloon passed directly over the spot, it suddenly resolved itself into streets and I squares, exhibiting a perfect model of a [ town, but diminished into curious minute ness by the height from which it was seen. In this manner they rapidly trav-j lorscd a large space of tile continent, cm-j !.racing a vast succession of towns and villages, solely distinguishable by their nightly illumination. One of those in.au i tilitl views singularly captivated their at tention. Tiiey approached a district !-which seemed actually to blaze with innumerable fires, studding the whole hor izon. As they swept along, they saw a i central city in the midst of this circle of i flame, with every line of its streets mar i ked out by its particular range of illumi nation. The theatres and other public [ buildings, the squ ires, and all the more j prominent features of the city, were indi-j : rated bv the larger accumulations of light. They could even hear the busy murmur [ of the population—the whole forming an * ; earthly picture of the most .striking con trast lo the darkness, the serenity, and i the sriJcnce of the vast region above in | which they were moving. This was the ! city of Liege, whose surrounding iron foundries formed the horizon of flame. This was the last spectacle of the kind! [ which met their eyes. Thenceforth it all was midnight, every sound was hushed, I every light died,and all was solemn and aw-j | ful obscurity. Withdrawn from the earth ' which was buried in the profimndest still ness, they looked to the heavens. There was no moon. The hue of the sky was! intensely black, but the stars redoubled j in their lusture, shone like sparks ol the j whitest silver. Occasional flashes of .lightning came from the north. I In a situation, which it was never in the power of man, to describe before, the sketch of night, given by Mr. Mason,has ! all the interest of anew source of ideas. ‘Nothing,’ says this clever describer, ! ‘could exceed the density, of night, which ! prevailed during this part of the voyage. Not a single terrestrial object could any J. W. FROST, EDITOR. NUMBER 5. where be distinguished. An unfathoma ble abyss of darkness visible seemed to encompass us on every side. And as we looked forward into its black obscurity in the. direction in which we were pro ceeding, we could scarcely resist the im pression that we were cleaving our way through an interminable mass of black marble, in which we were imbedded, and which, solid a few inches before us, seem ed to soften as we approached, in order to admit us further within the precincts ol its cold and dusky inclosure. Even the lights, which at times were lowered from the car, instead of dispelling, seem ed only to augment the intensity of the surrounding darkness, and as they descen ded deeper into its frozen bosom, abso lutely to melt their way downward.’ The oil, the water, anil the cofTee were com pletely frozen. Yet the sufferings of the aeronauts were not severe, inconsequence' of their being entirely exempt from the action of the wind. While they were thus rushing on with almost whirlwind rapidity through the ocean of darkness, yet almost unconscious of motion, an incident occurred calcula ted to alarm them in an extraordinary de gree. By the discharge of ballast the bal loon had suddenly risen to an elevation of above 12,0UU feet (about two miles.) In a few moments after they heard a violent hurst from the top of the balloon, follow ed by a loud rustling of the silk, and all the signs of its having been torn suddenly open. Immediately the car began to toss, as if severed from the ropes, and appear ed to he sinking to the earth. A second and a third explosion followed rapidly, evidently giving the voyagers the impres sion that they were upon the point of be ing dashed to pieces. But the alarm was brief. The great machine suddenly recovered its Btilhiess, and all was calnm again* The concussions were subsequently accounted for by the stretching of the network on the surface of the balloon, which had boon frozen during the night. When the machine suddenly shot up into the higher atmost phere, it swelled, and it was the resistance of the frozen network to this swelling, which produced the successive explosions. The sinking of the car was an illusion, occasioned by the surprise and suddeness of the action. When the network had been relieved and the balloon was thus suffered to take its proper shape, all was calm and regular once more. During the darkness they were some times perplexed with sounds from either earth or air, so strongly resembling the heaving of waters against some vast line of shore, that they were tempted to think themselves speeding along the shores of the German Ocean, on hovering above the Baltic. From this apprehension, how ever tiiey were relieved by the recollection that their course was unchanged. At length they saw the day, but saw it under the most novel and interesting circum stances. About six o’clock, after cros sing the Rhine the balloon rose to a con siderable elevation, and showed them a gladdening glimpse of the sun. The view was now magnificent ; the balloon occupying the centre of a horizon of 300 miles in diameter, and comprising in a single view, scarcely less than 80,000 square miles. The country that spread below, was a rich, undulating, boundless landscape, with the Rhine dividing it, and losing itself among the vapors that still clung to the hills, or covered the valleys. The ascents and descents of the balloon still more varied the prospect. A rapid descent first hid the sun from their view, and they were wrapped in the night which still shadowed the lower region of the air. Again they rose within sight of this splen did display ; again lost it. And it was not until after they had thus made the sun rise three times, and set twice that , they could regard daylight as complete on the mighty expanse below. They now thought of making thoir final descent. But the question arose—“where were they ?” They saw below them ranges of forest, wide plains, and large spaces cov ered with snow, giving the rather start ling impressions that they had passed the bounds of civilized Europe, and were hov ering over the deserts of Poland, or the Steppes of Russia. However they now resolved upon descending; and after two attempts, baffled by the failure of the wind and the nature of the ground, alighted in safety at half past seven in the morning, in the Grand Duchy of Nassau, and about two leagues from Weilburg. The voj age occupied eighteen hours, and was in extent about five hundred British miles.. Honor thy Father. In Sir J. Soane’s will, recently proved in the English Pre rogative Court, 13 a bequest to his son of a piece of paper, which is bung up, fra med and glazed, in Sir John’s parlor. This singular legacy is no other than a paragraph, cut from a newspaper, reflect* iitfr on Sir J. Soane’s knowledge of archi tecture, and which was found to-bd written some ydars since 4>y the unlucky son to « whom it is now bequeathed as his portion* [N. Y. Sun.