Brunswick advocate. (Brunswick, Ga.) 1837-1839, November 09, 1837, Image 1
Bvunsluich JUjtiocatc.
DAVIS Ai. SHORT, PUBLISHERS.
volume: i.
The Brunswick •Advocate ,
|i published every Thursday Morning, in the
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Legal Advertisements published at the
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[j'r’N. 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 ol
sale.
Sales of Negroes must be 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 be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must
be published for Four Months.
Notice for leave to sell Negroes, must be
published for Four Months, before any order
absolute shall lie made thereon by the Court.
PROSPECTUS
A yveekly paper,
PUBLISHED AT BRUNSWICK, GLYNN
COUNTY, GEORGIA.
The causes which render necessary the es
-1 ablishment of this Press, and its claims to the
support of the public, can best be presented by
the statement of a few facts.
Brunswick possesses a harbor, which for ac
cessibility, spaciousness and security, is une
qualled on the Southern Coast. This, of itself
would bo sufficient to render its growth rapid,
and its importance permanent; for the best
port South of the Potomac must become the
site of a great commercial city. But when to
this is added the singular salubrity of the cli
mate, free from those noxious exhalations gen
erated by the union of salt and river Yvaters,
and which are indeed “charnel airs” to a white
population, it must be admitted that Brunswick
contains all the requisites for a healthy and
populous city. Thus much has been the work
of Nature ; but already Art has begun to lend
her aid to this favored spot, and the industry of
man bids fair to increase its capacities, and
add to its importance a hundred fold. In a
few months, a canal will open to the harbor of
BrunsYvick the vast and fertile country through
Yvhicli flow the Altamaha, and its great tribu
uries. A Rail Road will shortly be commenc
ed, terminating at Pensacola, thus uniting the
waters of the Gulf of Mexico Yvith the Atlantic
Ocean. Other Rail Roads intersecting the
State in various directions, will make Bruns
wick their depot, and a large portion of the
hade from the Valley of the Mississippi will
yet find its way to her wharves. Such, in a
feYv words, are the principal causes which will
operate in rendering Brunswick the principal
city of the South. But xvhile its advantages
are so numerous and obvious, there have been
found individuals and presses prompted by sel
fish fears and interested motives, to oppose an
undertaking which must add so much to the
importance and prosperity of the State. Their
united powers are noYv applied to thwart in
every possible manner, this great public bene
fit. Misrepresentation and ridicule, invective
and denunciation have been heaped on Bruns-
Yvick and its friends. To counteract these ef
forts by the publication and Yvide dissemination
of the facts—to present the claims of Bruns-
Yvick to the confidence and favor of the public,
to furnish information relating to all the
great works of Internal Improvement noYv go
ing on through the State, and to aid in devel
oping the resources of Georgia, will be the
leading objects of this Press.
Such being its end and aim, any interfer
ence in die party politics of the day would be
improper and impolitic. Brunswick has re
ceived benefits from—it has friends in all par
ties, and every consideration is opposed to
rendering its Press the organ of a party. To
the citizens of Georgia—and not to die mem
bers of a party—to die friends of Brunswick—
to the advocates of Internal Improvement— to
the considerate and ' reflectiug—do we apply
lor aid and support
Terms —Three dollars per annum in ad
vance, or four dollars at die end of the year
J. W. FROST, Editor.
DAVIS & SHORT, Publishers.
BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, NOYEMEER 9, 1837.
r « E '3' 15 I .
A LYRIC FOR LOVERS.
Love launch'd a gallant little craft,
Complete Yvith every rope:
In golden Yvords Yvas painted aft—
“ The Cupid, Captain Hope. ’
Pleasure was rated second mate,
And Passion made to steer;
The guns were handed o'er to Fate,
To Impulse, sailing-gear.
Merrily roY’ed the thoughtless crew
Amidst the billows’ strife ;
But soon a sail bore doYvn, —all knew
’Tyytis Captain Reason's ‘-Life,”
And Pleasure left, though Passion said
He’d guard her safe from all harms,
’Twas vain ; for Fate ratnm’d home the lead
While Love prepared the small-arms.
A storm arose ! The canvass iioyv
Escaped from Impulse’ hand,
While heads.trong Passion dashed the prow
Stvift on a rocky strand.
’•All’s lost!” each trembling sailor cried ;
“Bid Captain Hope adieu!”
But in his life boat Reason hied
To save the silly creYY’.
Impulse the torrents overwhelm,
Rut Pleasure ’scaped from wreck ;
Love, making Reason take the helm,
Chain’d Passion to the deck.
“ I thought you were my foe ; but noYv,”
Said Love, “yvc'll sail together;
Reason, henceforth life shalt thou
My pilot be forever !”
:?i a * c e s, a, a a v .
From the Maine Farmer.
TAMING HORSES.
The mystery of rendering horses of
the most unruly character, perfectly obe
dient and docile, seems to be satisfactori
ly unfolded in the annexed communica-l
tion, which we extract from the N. Y.
Spirit of the Times. For many years,!
this curious art has been deemed by the |
world, sometliing like a supernatural "ill,
with which few men, and these “far be- j
tween,” were endoived. According to
Mr. I ,ewis’ account of the matter, anv
person possessing a quick eye, ready
hand, active heel, and a certain portion of;
animal courage, Ify following the simple
rules of Mr Jonathan Smith, can learn
to break the most unruly horse that ever
stood upon four legs.
Llyangollen, Ky. Feb. ID, 1-537.
Dear Sir :—lt Yvas on the doth of
May, 1823, at Orange Court House, in
the Old Dominion, (God bless her !) where
1 then lived, that I first saw the late Jon
athan Smith. It was Court day, and he,
surrounded by a crowd oj gentlemen, be
gan thus :
‘Every groom and trainer, gentlemen,
has his own Yvay of bridling,and breaking
and managing horses. lam a teacher of
the art ; 1 can tame the most ungoverna
ble horse on this green in one hour. And
if any of you want to know how, I will
teach you the theory and show’ you the •
practice on this condition : If I fail, you
shall pay me nothing ; if I succeed,
and satisfy you that you can do it as well
as I, you and each of you, shall pay me
810. I will make the horse follow me
without bridle, halter or saddle, through
this croYvd ; stand quietly while I crack
this whip repeatedly over his back : make
him give me any foot at command, and
lie down if you wish it.’
‘Agreed, agreed !’ cried half a dozen
voices, of which I was one. ‘Bring up I
Madison’s mare, and if he can do half
what lie says with her, he must deal with
the devil.’
‘No, gentlemen,’ said Smith, ‘there is
no devlislnncnt in it, but plain common
sense, as you will see. Take the mare
into that house yonder ; (it yvhs a log
house, about twenty feet square) all hor- j
ses may be managed in the same way.’
The mare was a wild, skittish young |
thing, pampered withal, disposed to kick
and bite and would not let a stranger
touch her.
Come gentlemen,’ said Smith,‘let ns !
go to the stable.’
As he went along, lie examined care
fully a whip which he carried, formed,
like a wagoner’s, but lighter in the han
dle, and longer in the thong and lash.
When Yve got to the door, Smith, said no
man but himself should enter. ‘Look;
through the cracks, and see what I do,!
and how I do it. Shut the door after me, I
and fasten it.’
lii he went suddenly and very boldly,
and before the mare could survey him,
he was giving her the lash on her hind
legs and thighs, with quick, sharp strokes.
Around she went, kicking,jumping,back
ing out, and seeming as if she would
break through the side of the house,
keeping the greatest possible distance
from him. No rest, no breathing time
was given ; the sweat began to flow, and
the mare began to slacken her movements,
and occasionally to turn so as to screen
j her hind legs from the lash. When she
turned her head towards him and'ap
proached nearest, he stopped the whip,
i stretched out his hand towards her and
! said ‘Come along.’ But she yvus oflT a-
I gain instantly, and again the lash was ap
plied. Presently she stopped, turned,
looked at him, and inclined slightly
towards him. He reached,out his hand,
j stopped whipping, and touching her neck,
saying again, ‘Come along.’ But there
Yvas no come along in her ; there she
j stood sullenly. Away he leaped, and pli
;ed the lash and repeated ‘Come along.’
She soon turned, came towards him and
| stopped. He Yvas watching her, and the
| moment she began, lie did also, so that
noYv he was near her, lie patted her, stop
i ped whipping, and as he moved away,
said ‘come along.’ She beg in to move
| with him ; but as if panic struck, a mo
| meat afterwards darted olf. The lash
was poured into her. She stopped, trein
j hied, and dunged.
‘You’ll see now,” said Smith to us,
‘they generally do this when giving up.’
She approached ; he patted her neck,
, stopped whipping, and said ‘come along,’
inoving slowly from her. She iioyv obey
ed, following him several times round the
{ room. He patted her neck, and, as she
was following him, he suddenly darted a
! way and began with the whip, crying
j ‘come along.’ Instantly she was at his
! side, and the whip ceased to flash thro’
the air, and he was patting her neck as .
she followed him round. Whenever she !
lagged, he was away, and the whip appli-,
ed. Never after that would she remain
tYvo feet from him.
‘You see, gentlemen,’ said lie, ‘the
principle. The whip never touches her to
hurt, when near me ; nothing that I bring
i to her, is to hurt her, so much as her fear
of me, or any thing in contact with me.’
He then took off his glove, thrust his
list into his armpit, and then rubbed it on
and in her nostrils. After walking a few
more times round, the room, the mare fol
lowing close to him he said, ‘open the
door.’ The door was opened, and the
mare followed close to him off to the
crowd, and through it and back again to
the stable.
He came out, closed the jloor and said,
this, gentlemen, is always the first lesson,
and never has to be repeated. Alter a
horse follows in the stable, it is but to
make him do it in a small lot, where he
cannot escape you. —It has taken about
thirty minutes. On the whole, it is hu
mane, for it prevents all future conten
tion. On entering her stable hereafter,
she would be reminded by a single touch
of the whip, and ‘come along.’ She will
now follow the smallest boy, who will go
in alone, give her the hint with the whip,
and say,‘come along,’ for a treaty has
been formed Yvith her to this effect, that
when near you, she is never to lie struck;
but it at a distance and disobedient, she
suffers not after the fault, but during its
commission. By this treatment her whole
nature will he changed, and she may he
taught, by the rational application of the
principle, to do any thing that a horse can
do. 1 will now show you that she will
let me handle her feet, &.c., as soon as
I teach her what I want her to do.’
He went in and closed the door. She
came up to him ; lie patted her shoulder,
then her arm, arid carried his hand down
the foreleg ; she drew hack and trembled.
In an instant he was away from her, and
the lash applied with ‘come along.’ Up
she came, and he began again ; she now
stood fast, Yvhile he ran his hand over
her leg, patting and soothing her.
‘She is now satisfied, you see, that she
is not to he hurt when I touch her.’
lie then went from leg to leg, till she
stood perfectly quiet while he handled
them, lie then slightly tapped the in
side of the foreleg, and said ‘foot, foot.’
She raised it on the toe ; he took hold
of it gently, but firmly, raised it from
the ground, and patted her, then stopped
a few moments, and repeated it, till when
he tapped it she raised the foot olf the
ground for him. This he did repeatedly
to every foot.
‘>She now understands,’ said he, ‘that
when 1 slightly tap her leg, and say‘foot,’
1 want her to give it to me, and she will
doit, for if she docs not, she will know
the consequence. I will oir yonder,
and the lash will take my place ; I'm the
most agreeable of the two. Horses
taught this, will never kick you ; they
are not only not afraid, hut from the asso
ciation of ideas, take pleasure in your
touch; it is the sign of peace. I will
now put her confidence in me to the se
verest test.
He raised the whip, laid it on her back,
rubbed her with it ; she trembled like a
leaf till she stood nearer to him, as if for
protection. He patted her; shook the
whip over her, then increased its motion
i parallel to her back, till it whizzed in
the air, without even touching her, louder
and louder it sounded, till he began to
crack it over her ; once only did she
|retire, and back again instantly, for the,
moment she was off, she felt the lash. As-1
"HEAR ME FOR MT ('A USE.”
j ter this, he suddenly receded raised the
Uvhip, and said, ‘come along.’ Up she
came; then lie cracked it over her very
| often, and she never moved from him.
I You see now, gentlemen, that the
j cracking the Yvhip is also a sign of peace
j She will come to it if she sees me, al
though a quarter of a mile olf Suppose
your horse is afraid of an umbrella, or
any thing else: take it to the stable,make
him follow you with it on \our arm ; then
on his hack, and then take him into a lot
so small that he cannot escape you, and
make him follow there, in like manner.
He will soon cease to fear any thing,when
you thus prove to him that it will not hurt
him ; or it he is afraid, the great fear of
distance, and the lash \viil cast out the
least fear of any thing in contact with
you. Break your colts and fillies in-ac
cordance with these principles, applied
by common sense, and they will play no
tricks. Give your colt a first lesson ; at
the next, make him come up, lay the bri
dle on his head : when used to it, put it
on, make him follow with the bridle on,
without bolding it, then lead him. Han
dle his leg, and feel as you have seen
done to day.—Teach him "also to bear
the crack ol the whip near him, and over
his buck. These several teachings should
occupy fifteen or twenty minutes, twice
a day, for three or four days, then you
may bring your blanket and circingle to
him; goon as witli the umbrella. When
■ lie is used to them, girt the blanket on ;
make him follow with it on; do this sev
; oral times ; after- that, bring in your saddle,
use him to it in the same manner. Put
it on, and make him follow ; after he is
used to it, layover it along, narrow hag,
with thirty pounds in eacii end, and let
him follow with these on in the stable,
and in the lot, Yvitli the bridle drawn as
tight as when in the hands of a rider.
: Repeat this several times, and yon may
put on your boy in the stable ; ’still lot
j him follow you ; then in the lot several
times. After a day or tYvo you may in
crease your distance from him, towards
the centre of the circle in which he walks.
He will soon walk around the lot, obey
ing the bridle of the hoy. You may now
bring in another gentle horse, with a ri
der on, to walk with him, but before him
at first. Alter a few walks thus in the
lot, you may take them out, and with or
dm ary care, your colt is broken and gen
tle, without having injured himself or his
rider.— I o teach him to lie down, is quite
easy, after the foot lesson. Take a fore
foot from the ground, hold it firmly ; tap
the other fore leg, and ask for it. He
will necessarily come on his knees. Per
haps lie will bounce up, alarmed at his
new position. But you must have pa
tience to teach a horse what you want
him to do. Begin again, bring him in
I thfi same manner as at first, on his knees,
j till h« will remain quiet in that attitude,
permitting you to walk round him witli
out attempting to rise. Do this until lie
|is used to it ; then, when he is on his
knees, go to a hind foot, and make him
ghe that to you. \\ hen in that position,
ask lor the other hind loot; and down he
: comes on lus side. Perhaps (if he is a
timid animal) he will he alarmed at his
new position, and rise up instantly ; hut
lake care to pat him as lie goes down,
and while he is on the ground ; hut as he
rises ) and is firmly on his feet, you must
retire, and give him a slight admonition
with the lash, that Ik* is doing wrong to
net up so soon. Go again and again
through the same routine, he will soon
understand what you want him to do.
! And a horse taught thus, will do for you
any tiring that he can do when lie under
stands you ; and, gentlemen, lie is not
slow ol understanding. The horse is
; naturally a very observing, sagacious and
sensible animal, docile and obedient,
when once thoroughly convinced of the
superior powers of man. And his intel
lectual powers, it 1 may say so without
’ offence, are like those of man, much im
proved by proper exercise or education,
with this remarkable difference:
‘■A man convinced against his will,
Is of the same opinion still.”
Not so with the horse. He never is of
the same opinion, after argumentum ad
njiium has once convinced him. The
lesson ot punishment at a distance from
you, and teaching that near you is the
place of safety and peace, with the con
sequent following you in the stable and
out of it, is the first step always,- and the!
key of the whole system. This first les-'
son must be more effectual, by persever
ance and courage. I say courage, for:
some horses fight bravely in the first les-i
son; never afterwards, if subdued. If!
they merely kick and back towards you, |
the size of the room enables you by keep-;
ing your eye constantly on them, and si
deling round, to avoid their heels, as you
apply the lash. The horse will soon be
tired of- presenting his hind legs to you.
But if the horse be a strong, high-spirited
stallion of some age, who, badly managed
by some timid groom, has had his own
way, when he turns his head towards you,
then comes the tug of war. In such ca-
ses, gentlemen, I make myself a little ug
ly and outlandish in my appearance, be
fore I enter his presence: and 1 enter in
a very hold and dashing style, (for horses
arc very subject to panic from sudden un
usual appearances.) Before he recovers
his self-possession, and can wonder at my
audacious impudence, 1 fall aboard of
him like five and forty wild cats and be
fore he is sufficiently self-possessed to
front you, he is inspired with some con
siderable respect for his new customer’s
courage and prowess. But after a while,
lie begins to think the joke is carrying
• too far. lie turns and gives you a look,
which plainly says, ‘who the devil are
you V lam sorry to make the noble
horse swear, on even so provoking an oc
casion ; But I assure you he is not so
much addicted to it as jackasses, and some
other animals, and he may at least plead
the excuse of—‘evil communications cor
rupt good manners,’ for this bad habit.
Now he surveys you, notwithstanding the
sharp lasii incessantly applied to tiie hind
legs, fixes his gaze on you, lays his ears
close to Iris head, draws back his lips, dis
closing his teeth, opens his mouth, raises
his fore feet and dashes right at you. Woe
to the timid braggart, who, with wand
ering eye or daunted breast, is not ready
with hand, and heart, and heels,and eyes,
for this crisis. Perhaps his time is come !
‘Poor Johnny Raw, what madness could impel
So rum a ilat to face so prime a swell.’
Let none such presume to exercise the
art of mastering even, much less the no
ble science of subduing the horse. But
the fearless and practised horse teacher is
ready for the encounter. His eye was fix
ed upon* him, he foresaw tin? coming
storm, and as the open mouth and lrigii
raised hoof of the indignant and enraged
animal approach, lie seems to meet them :
•But when this shadow's o'er his brow, lie slips
aside,
So nimbly slips, that the vain robber past
Through empty air. and lie so high, so vast,
Who dealt the stroke, came thundering to the
ground;
Nor rest. nor pause, nor breathing time is given,
lint rapid as the rattling hail from heaven,
Beats on the house-top, showers of-horseman's
shot,’
Around the ‘Stallion’s legs fly peppering hot.'
From this to the finish is all-tweedle dee.’
You now have my secret—so hand mo the fee.” '
\Vc did hand Jonathan his fee, arid 1
have no reason to repent it, for 1 believe
that this method has more than once sa
ved my life, although I am no Jack Mvt
ton, to throw myself under a horse’s heel's
or ride full tilt over a rabbit warren.
JOHN LEWIS,
Late of Spottsylvania Cos. Virginia.
Extract from a work entitled “ The
Rat Trap; or, Cogitations of a Convict
in the House of Correction,” by William
J. Snelling, of Boston. In the following
extract the writer gives a description of
his first night in a cell:
“I expected to return to the receiving
rooms at night, but Yvas agreeably disap
pointed, being ordered to join the fourth
division, and placed in safety in a cell on
the third floor of the prison, under the
immediate charge of the officer I have al
ready mentioned as my unprovoked ene
my. Hero, being locked up for the night,
1 lor the first time had leisure for reflec
tion, and u sorrowful privilege it was.—
“llcre, ’ thought I, ‘‘l am a man: who
was once beloved by some, respected, and
even honored, by many, a fellow common
er with vagabonds and felons, wearing
their uniform, eating of their loaf and
drinking of their cup, degraded to their
level, and deserving to be so. Hence
forth 1 can never call myself a gentleman,
scarce even a man. My foes rejoice, and
my friends, if I have any, weep. They
will be my friends no more. I have for
feited their good opinion, and, what is
worse, ;ny own also—ay, there’s the rub!
With talents equal to great things, and
opportunities conformable to them, I have
abused the one and wilfully thrown away
the other. I have made some noise in the
world; I have been a hot friend and a
bitter enemy. .
‘•I foully hoped to write on high
A name with those who cannot die.”
But I have only raised myself to fall the
lower and the harder. What comfort re
mains? I never had any religion, nor
was any ever taught me, for my mother
died early, and the toils of war left my
gallant father no time to attend to me ;
and 1 have no saving faith in its promis
es. Ido remember, indeed, that, when 1
was a very little boy, one of my aunts
taught me the Lord’s prayer, the ten com
mandments and the catechism, but I have
forgotten the latter long ago. I have read
the Bible, particularly Job, Isaiah, the
Proverbs, and the Psalms, till I have them
almost by rote. I have read the eviden
ces of God’s existence, goodness, great
ness and power, written by his own migh
ty ha4r on the forest and the limitless
prairie, in the lake and the thundering
cataract, in every part of the rolling earth
beneath and the star-studded vault above :
and it has filled me with wonder and'ad-
J. W. FROST, EDITOR.
NUMBER 23.
| miration, but not with fear, sorrow 6r re
|pentance. I have read books of theolo
| gy, and I have heard preachmeftts; bat
I they only disgusted and perplexed me. I
know not whether I have a soul or not;
I am sure I have lived as if I had none;
and if I have, 1 certainly am very little
concerned about it. I know not whether
| there he a heaven or a hell—l hope thertrt
' are both ; this for my own sake, and that)
j for the sake of sortie others. If the for
i mer, I can only, they say, attain it by re
pentance, and that I am sure I cannot
feel, try I ever so hard; if the latter I
have no fear of it. Sooth to say, Ido not
j think I have done, or can do, anything to
I deserve fire everlasting ; and if I could, t
think God is too good and too merciful
to doom me to it. The mild principles
of Jesus breathe nothing of the horrible
malignity such a doom would imply. The
grim, ruthless God of Calvin is not the
God of my adoration ; were there indeed
such a being, I would refuse to bow
down and worship, at all risks. All that
1 have heard and read on such subjects
seems to me to be vain wisdom and ftlsc
philosophy. I may be wrong, though if
I be, so are all Unitarians, universalits, and
many other Christians. Let fiim recon
cile jarring creeds who will—l eschew
the task. Faith cannot be forced, be it
never so necessary. I believe little; I
deny nothing. I cannot mix heaven with
,my thoughts of earth, for the life of me.
Shall 1 look for comfort in the past, then?
j Save me, save me from myself! What
j man would not shudder were all his ac
(tions, all his secret thoughts t« pass in ar
ray before him? Look Ito the present?
what am I? A drunkard, a vagabond, an
outcast: the worthy companion of felons!
To the future? My name is already be
come a byword for the vulgar and the vile.
My fortunes blasted, and so is my name,
now. The high places that have known
me w ill knoYv me no more. Yet I have
robbed none, I have deceived none, I
have injured none without strong provo
cation. What are these literal bonds,
these physical hardships? Nothing. yls
my fare coarse? I have fared worse. Is
my bed hard ? He who has slept soundly
on the bare deck, on the bare ground in
summer, and the snowdrift in winter,
without complaining, need not be curi
ous about his lodging. Need I fear pun
ishment ? The worst here is but scanty
allowance of food; which is no great mat
ter. I have fasted four days, and I know
there is nothing very appalling in literal
starvation. If men bow not to me as
once, if they couple my name with evil, if
they regard my person Yvith scorn, will it
change one hair of my head from che9nut
to white, or alter the complexion of my
true character one shade? What can
they of me? I drink! Grant it, and
still I am a better man drunk than my en
emies are sober, in every sense of the
word. The worst is, I have lost all that
once sustained me, my own esteem. My
reputation is blasted, my pride crushed,
my hopes extinguished. O, for a draught
of Let lie, to forget all, myself, the past
and the present; for an early grave, that
1 might creep, for I am unworthy to
walk into it, and hide my dishonor!”—
Tims rail my thoughts till my blood gush
ed from my hitter lip in my agony, and a
troubled sleep brought no relief.
Gueat events from mttCe causes/
In the history of the world, it will be
; found, that the most important circum
stances that have taken place, and the
| mightiest convulsions that have disturbed
j mankind, have arisen apparently from the
i most trivial causes. In a late number
jof the “Southern Literary Messenger” a
j writer, who signs It. Sanders, has pub
lished a large number of extracts from
a French work, published in Dublin, in
the year 4705, and remarks “had I room,
l could copy nearly half the book, with
out fearing to tire mv readers, so true it
is that ‘truth is stranger than fiction.’ ”
We condense the following.
“In Roman history, it is found, that
the government was overthrown in conse l
qticnce of Collutinus’ praising his wife
Lucretia. The love of Appius Claudius
for Virginia, destroyed the Decemvirate-.
The jealously of a woman against her
j sister raised the Piebians to the Consular
, dignity. Fulvia’s disgust towards her lov=-
er caused the discovery of Cataline’s
, conspiracy. Anthony and OctaviaS
fought in consequence of the ugliness of
Fuivia. The quarrel of two men of the
lowest condition, the one a Genoese, the
other a Venetian, occasioned a war' be
tween those Republics,' in fcrhioh much
wealth was expended and many valuable
lives destroyed. A Genoese shoemaker,
caused the government of? the’ republic
to lie changed. -An Empress' treated her’
daughter with severity, and Attila incon
sequence ravaged Gafrl and Italy, and
laid the foundation of Venice. A game
of dice settled in Africa, ud
made them ravage Italy and sack Rofbe.;
Chilperic, King of France struck kH wife
with a switch in sport and wa»~«snMill»
ated in consequence. ■ The settlement of