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* WOT Bvunstoi t fe tf t.i oc^tc> VOJLUME Z. BY DAVIS & SHORT. The Brunswick Advocate, L published every Thursday Morning, in the city of Brunswick, Glynn County, Georgia, at $:l 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 üblishers. All letters and communications to the Editor or Publishers in relation to the paper, must be POST PAID to ensure attention. IET” A DVERTI SEME NTS conspicuously in serted at One Doi.lar per one hundred words, fox the first insertion, and Fifty Cents for ev ery subsequent continuance—Rule and figure work always double price. Twenty-five per cent, added, if not paid in advance, or during the continuance of the 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 nsual rates. gi J N . B. Sales of 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 14a ys previous to the day ot sale. Sales of Negroes must be at public auejion, 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 daj's 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 be made thereon by the Court. General Newspaper and Col lection Agency. THE undersigned, late editor and proprietor of the Augusta Chronicle, having the ex tensive business of that establishment to close, and conscious from long experience, how much such a facility is needed, at least hy the Cress, is disposed to connect with it a General Agen cy for the collection of .Xnrspaper and other Debts, in this and the neighboring Southern States, and will travel almost continually to present them himself. Should the business of sered be sufficient., the agency will be made a permanent one—and while his long connexion with the Cress and consequent knowledge of its peculiar requisitions and benefits from such sn Agency, and his extensive personal acquain tance with the localities and people of the coun try, aft’ord peculiar facilities lor the perform ance of its duties, he trusts that suitable en quiries will leave no doubt of prompt and faith ful attention to them. A. 11. PEMBERTON. Mr. Pemberton will commence a trip through Barnwell and Beaufort Districts, to Savannah, thence through Bryan, Liberty, Mclntosh, Glynn and Camden counties, and back through Wayne, &c. to Savannah; and thence through Lftingham, Seriven, Burke, Jefferson, Wash ington and Warren, to Augusta. Alter which, he will travel through most of the ncighborind districts of South Carolina, and the middle ang upper counties of Georgia: and through the States of Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, IS'. Carolina. Virginia, &c. He will receive, for collection, claims of any kind. Terms as follows : JXeicspttprr accounts, r. (including these of Periodicals.) when to he made out by hint, from general lists, forwarded by mail, «.Vc. 15 per ct. JVeus subscribers, with payment in advance, tlo per cent; without payment in advance, 1-g percent. He has been offered more in some instances, but cannot consent to take more- from one than another, or than he himself would willingly puij; and now fixes on these rates as those he has paid , and as being as low as can be afforded, or as he has ever known paid— trusting for remuneration, more to the probable extent of business he lnay receive, than to the rates themselves, together with the considera tion of travelling for his health, and to collect for himself. Mercantile accounts, 5 per cent, more or less according to amount, Ac. Remittances will be made according to igstruc tion, and at the risk of those to whom they are addressed—he furnishing the Postmaster's cer tificate of the amount deposited, and description of money, whenever a miscarriage occurs.— When left to his discretion, as often as circum stances, amount collected, safety, economy, Sec. may seem to justify, and checks, dratls, or suitable notes in size, currency where sent, Sec can be obtained—and at the risk of those ad dressed to him in this city, will be immediately forwarded to him, when absent. Reference to any one who knows him ; and there are few who do not in this city or section. He is now Agent for the following Neswpa pers and Periodicals, and authorized to receive subscriptions or payments therefor: Chronicle and Sentinel, Augusta. Constitutionalist, do. Southern Medical and Surgical Journal do. Georgian, Savannah, Advocate, Brunswick, Ga. Mercury, Charleston. Southern Patriot, do. Southern Literary Journal do. Southern Agriculturalist, do. Western Carolinian, Salisbury, N. C. Farmers' Register, Petersburg, Va. Southern Literary Messenger, Richmond,Va Merchant, Baltimore. Reformer, Washington City. Augusta, June SR*. O’Publishers of Newspapers, See., who may think proper to engage his services, will please give the above two or three conspicuous inser tions weekly or monthly, and forward the No’s containing it, BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 25, 1838. POETRY. A WINTER MORNING ODE. Respectfully inscribed to the author of“ Rights of Woman.” When breakfast bells peal out at seven, And sleepy clerks from bed are driven, To re-commence their cares, — When chamber maids in slipshod bustle, Their mops and brooms begin to rustle, On all the painted stairs, — How sweet to lock your chamber door, And snug in blankets calmly snore, On a cold winter's mornimr. You hear a female voice, perhaps,— And sundry inauspicious raps Break in upon your dreams, — That rises high, and shriller grows, These come to horrid kicks and blows, ‘•Like mad” the woman seems ! But oh ! how safely you are hid, Your drooping eye ne’er lifts it lid, Nor heeds the lady’s warning. Visions of smoking hot beafsteaks, And reeikng piles of buckwheat cakes May tempt you oft to rise And so you gently lift the clothes, — The air pops in and wrings your nose, And oft the tempter flies, For breakfast you had rather loose, Than one more fine refreshing snooze, While Sol the earth is wanning. And thendhere's little Jane, below, Who on the pantry shelf will stow A plate of something nice, A herring broiled—some buttered toast— Os venison saved from last night's roast. A most delicious slice, — Oh ! then sleep on, and bravely brook The angry tongue of Mrs Cook, And Madame Blowhard’s storming ! Jfl ISC EL LAY Y. ANECDOTES OF GILBERT STUART. From Herbert’s Irish Varieties, a late London Publication. When Stuart, the portrait painter, vis ited Dublin, Home had possession of all the fashionable practice; but Stuart’s works paralysed Home’s efforts, and he left Dublin and the field to Stuart. His portraits were so well reported by the cognoscenti, that a rage to possess some specimen of his pencil, took place and a dilfteulty of obtaining a finished picture became universal, so fond was he of touching the half-price. Stuart had great affectation in his manner of speaking. It was like an imitation of John Kemble, to whom he bore a great resemblance, and he was flattered whenever it was observ ed he was not only like Kemble in fea tures, but in speech. He was perfectly conscious of his pre-eminence in paint ing; and he, hy his manner, exhibited that self-opinion to his visiters: this gave him the air of a coxcomb, although lie assum ed an independence of mind, which scarcely would be endured from any oth er man. Stuart, soon after his arrival, was in vited to dine with the Artists of Dublin, on St. Luke's Day. lie accepted the in ! vitation, and was very communicative to those who sat near Him. But Mr. Pack, (one of the company) who delighted in anecdote, was relating one, where he was the hero of the tale himself, and he spoke so loud as to drown Stuart's voice, so that [the great visiter was obliged to be a mute listener, until lie silenced the story-teller. Pack was boasting of bis intimacy with Sir Joshua Reynolds being so great, that he had the freedom of going into Sir Joshua’s study, even when he was paint ing, if alone. One day he entered the study when Sir Joshua was engaged de signing with chalk a picture of the Holy Family.—“Mr. Pack, I have been puz zled with this design,—the lore shorten ing of this infant’s thigh, I must lay it by until I get a model.” Pack saw several lines stretched, and he said, “Sir Joshua, your eye is fatigued; now, I come in with my eyes fresh, and I think I could draw the line you want: will you permit me —this in a softened tone — to point out what strikes me.” Sir Joshua handed him the chalk and Pack drew the line. “I think it would come so, so.” Sir Joshua thanked him, but the free dom was rebuked; but the line was a dopted, as the picture (which has been finished) testifies. These were Pack’s words. Stuart, fired with indignation at what he heard, asked Valdre, an Italian artist, who sat beside him, and in a voice as loud as Pack’s. “Who is that person relating these stories?” “Pack! Pack!” said Stuart, “Well, I have often heard of a Pack of nonsense, but I never saw it before.” Such an involuntary burst of laughter took place, like a volley, so generally was the excitement felt, that it took some minutes to relapse into a decent silence or decorum. Pack then became mute, J and we were deprived of his entertaining qualities for the rest of that evening. We then enjoyed Stuart’s account of himself, as he was freed from interruption, lie stated that on his arrival in London from America, he was received by his friend, Benjamin West, and treated as an inmate in bis family. He saw him paint ing every day, and he took such an inter est in the art, that he determined to be come a painter. After some time spent as a looker-on, Mr. West asked him, what profession he meant to follow, lie said he had not yet made up his mind that he could he a musician. West shook his head, and said, “Though you can play on every instrument, do you suppose you could vie with men here. I think you must fix upon sonic particular instrument, practise under a first rate teacher, and then you may reckon on success.” “Well, a few days after this conversa tion, Stuart happened to pass St. Cathe rine's Church, in the Strand. He had observed a crowd at the church door, and crossed to ask what caused the peo ple to assemble. lie was told it was a competiou for organist. lie asked if a stranger might become a competitor.— “Yes,” was the answer. He was accor dingly brought to the organ loft, and, in his turn, played on the organ. 11c was asked for his address, which he gave; and was told a note would be sent to him reporting on his performance. On the next day lip received a note ac quainting him that he had been elected organist, and if he would attend at one o’clock that day at the church, the par ticulars of the duty would be made known to him, and the salary, &.c. He handed the note to Mr. West,-saying, he had now a proof of being able to support himself by music. Mr. West was sur-; prised so much, he doubted that the note was genuine; in fact, that it was hut a joke; but Stuart assured of the truth of; it, and that he should be the witness him self if he chose to go with him to the church. Mr. West then believed him; yet doubted his perseverance in the duty, that he would throw it up in a month.; He assured him he would attend regular ly for three months, then resign; giving Uuc notire of his intention to change to another pursuit. “And, what,” said West, “will you: take up in its stead?” “Portrait-painting.” “Why, you can’t draw?” “Ul paint, though.” “What, without practising drawing?” “Yes.” “i shall be glad to see your works.” j | “You shall see them, and that soon. 1 | j am resolved on giving up one art to take I | up the other; therefore let me Leg you to I set a pallet to* me, and this day 1 mean Ito commence practice. I mean to paint j that piece of white satin that hangs' on I the back of that chair.” j Mr. West set the pallet; then Stuart took it and the satin to his room, and in three days produced his work, which as | touished West, but not more than it pleas-; |ed him. He then said, he should like to I see a portrait of a head from life. Stuart j began a bead. His plan was of his own contriving, lie got two looking glasses, placed them opposite to each other, put his subject with his back to one, his face to the other: the reflection of the face was repeated (by managing and shilling the glass) three or four times in grada tions of effect less perfect in each. Hr i painted first from tile least perfect, whose j faatures were confounded in masses of i shadow, hill he got the character of the ! head exactly. His next sitting requir ! ed more making out of the subject; he j then looked to the next and nearer reilee • lion. The next sitting be was able to dis cern more particularizing; he tlien came I to the first reflection, and then introdac ' ed the eyes: the very spaces left for the eyes | showed where they should be placed.— Then at his last sitting he faced his sitter and hud all his niaskings so perfectly dis tinct, his task was easily accomplished. His first head was as like as he ever painted; and Mr. West could scarcely be lieve it was lus work. Stuart, however, showed him bis mechanical invention, and West saw him at work, —he was then ; convinced. Here ended Stuart’s account of his j first essays in bis art; by practice lie was, enabled to lay aside the use of looking glasses, as boys lay by cork when they become familiar with the action of swim ming. The company were greatly amus-j ed; and that night’s enjoyment was mem orable for years, with those who were pres ent at Stuart’s narration. Stuart was struck with some remarks 1 made on bis account of himself, and lie requested Valdre to introduce me. Tbis being complied with, lie called upon me. ! and frequently came and partook of a | dinner, in the family way, when perhaps he had been asked to a great house and j splendid fare; but lie was whimsical, and bis attachment to me often surprised me. I There was certainly one point in his dis- j position that ho certainly never deviated I from. He had all the equalizing spirit of tiie American, —and lie looked contempt uously upon titled rank. I had an exam ple of that not long after; the Archbish op of Dublin bad his daughter’s portrait painted by Stuart,but had made some re mark upon it th.rt was not complimentary to the arti>t. His Grace called on Stu art and sent up his name that he wished to speak to Mr. Stuart. 1 happened to be conversing with Stuart at the time and I rose to depart; but he said, —“No, you must stay and witness a novel scene.” He sent down an excuse, that he was not accustomed to attend carriages,—that if his Grace would honor Him in bis paint ing room, be would tend on Him. The Archbishop sent back to say that gout prevented his coming up. Stuart replied he was extremely sorrv; for two reasons —one, for his Grace’s sufferings, the oth er that he had got the rheumatism him self; hut that he would endeavor to meet his Grace half way. So slipping his foot out of his shoe, lie put down the hind quarter, then, slip-shod, he tied a silk handkerchief round the foot, and pro ceeded to the stairs, and literally met the Archbishop half way. “Well, 1 have contrived to hobble up, | you see, Mr. Stuart—sorry to see your foot tied up.” “Ha ! oh dear!” “Do you suffer much with your foot ?" “Oil, very much, my lord.” “Well, Mr. Stuart, I came about my daughter’s potrait ; I am not quite recon ciled to the picture. Now, she is not a bad subject, and I expected she would have made an interesting picture. Now, all these potraits, as far as I know the o riginals, are not only striking likeness, but pleasing pictures. I candidly own, I cannot say so much for my daughter’s picture.” Stuart then placed the picture on an easel, with a large brush began, on a sky Hack ground to lay in a dark neutral col or. He went on until lie bad covered to the head. The archbishop conceived lie would let the face and figure remain ; but lie covered all. Then his grace exclaimed, — “Now, what are you doing ? are you painting out ?” “Yes, i am putting your ..<* pain, as much as I can, I shall return the li dfprice, and am sorry I could not please your grace.” “I wished you to alter the face.” “That I could not, I make it a rule never to alter, but rub out.” “But I don’t wish it rubbed out. “Oh, don’t you; 1 have, then, only to restore it.” Then taking some tow and dipping it in turpentine, he removed the dark color.! The archbishop desired Him to send it home at three o'clock, remarking, that lie was the first lie h id met with to refuse al tering a picture to please. “’[’hat’s not to be done ; and 1 have long since proved that point, which made me adopt, as a rule, that of painting from my own vision and conception : a dress-ma ker may alter a dress ; a milliner a cap ; a tailor a coat ; hut a painter may give up his art, if lie attempts to alter to please ; it cannot be done.” The archbishop bowed obsequiously,! hobbled down ; Stuart attending him ball-' way, and, bowing hnv, returned, to his j painting-room, enjoying his victory. He asked me how i liked the scene. 1 said ! could not have i; lievod it, bad I not been a witness to it. He remarked, that the archbishop was arbitrary,—therefore lie was resolved not to yield to his rude anil overbearing temper. He ordered his i servant to take the picture home at three! o’clock, and get fifteen guineas, or bring the picture buck. i A Pki.nti; amo\<; Buim.-tits. With jvery few exceptions, all the London heg i gars live up to their means: and what they earn, or rather swindle, out of a be nevolent or confiding public, is spent in jeating and drinking. Gin is the great thing with most of them. I knew one, and only one, who spent a considerable portion of 1 1 is professional proceeds in the article of dress. This man, who us ed to he seen daily in the neighborhood of; jllolborn, decrepit in appearance, and with the most ragged wardrobe that was] ever fastened about the human body,! regularly gave up bis vocation at six in ; the evening, and in about an hour after-1 wards was to be seen in the parlor of.a! public house in Gwy’s Inn Lane, where] he remained till eleven at night, smoking j his pipe and drinking his brandy and wu-j ter, and dressed in a suit of clothes, w ith ! his legs encased in top boots which no gentleman would be ashamed to wear. Not more partial is an alderman to bis turtle soup than are these gentry to the good tilings of this life. There are sev eral of them who “spit” their goose or duck at least three times a week. There are also numbers who bold regular con vivial meetings, at which some remarka ble gastronomic feats are performed. On koine special occasions they regularly ' elect their chairman, and have their series jof toasts, their speeches, and songs, as lon great public occasions. It is known to several persons that George the Fourth when Prince of Wales, went on one occasion with his friend Major Hanger to i witness the scenes which took place nt these guzzling exhibitions of the mendi cants. Tutored as the young Prince was ■ by Sheridan and others of his boon com panions in all sorts of frolics, he enjoyed’ ! the scene tor some time. At last, how lever, a circumstance occurred which 1 somewhat disconcerted him. The beggar who presided on the occasion as chair man, after a temporary pause in the mer riment of the evening, rose, and pointing Yo the Prince, said, “With the permission 'of the company, I calls on that ere gem [manwitha clean shirt an for a song.” j A round of applause from the rest of the jolly beggars showed bow eagerly they re sponded to the appeal tints made to his Itoyal Highness, who winked significantly to Major Hanger, and then stammered ; out the expression of a hope, that as he | was no singer, the company would ex cuse him. “Not a bit of it,” said the chairman. “Veil have no denial, young man,” said another. “Perhaps, gentle linen, you’ll allow the gentleman to sing jby proxy,” interposed Major Hanger.— I “Proxy!” said several voices at once, j “vat’s proxy?” “O another person sing ling for him,” said the major. “O, cer tainly, if lie can find one,” said the | chairman, looking round for the concur -1 reuce of the company in his sentiment. | “O, there can be no objections to that,” i observed a dozen voices at once. “Come 'then, If , you must do it yourself,” 'said the Prince, addressing himself to the j major. The latter responded to the ap peal , and amidst great applause a well | known ballad—well known, I mean, among the fraternity—called “The Beg gar’s Wedding.” “GcriTuien,”said the proprietor of'a little unwashed and unshared face, and u nose of remarkable flatness, who sat op posite the chairman, “let us drink the health and song of the genTmaii vot’s just sung.” “The geuTman's health and song,” shouted a host of voices, and in an instant every glass was empty of its •••« - £ *!•« • 4 1 say, young man, vy don’t you drink to your friend?” said a round faced mendi cant who sat opposite to his Royal fligh tless, his eyes rolling in a fine frenzy through the inspiring influence of the li quor lie had so copiously quaffed. “O, I beg your pardon, Sir,” answered tlie Prince, who had been for the moment lost in surprise at the ccstacies of uproarious merriment lie witnessed every where around him; “O, I beg your pardon, Sir, for the omission; it was accidental I as sure you.” This was addressed to the person wiio had challenged him for not drinking to tlie major. “Veil, vy don’t you drink R now?” inquired the other, who was a very consequential personage in his own estimation. The Prince filled up his glass, and having drunk off the tiie contents to the health and song of Major Hanger, held it out in his hand in an inverted position. “Bravo! your’re a a trump!” “Go it, clean shirt!” shouted about a dozen voices. “Three cheers for the gentleman who lias favored us with so excellent a song!” exclaimed the Prince, beginning to feci himself more at home. As lie spoke he rose, and waved his hand with his empty glass in the air, as if to lead the plaudits of tlie others. All pres ent were on tlieir legs in an instant,and deafening and universal were the cheers with which the major vvasgreeted. The scene was kept up with great spirit and eciat until at least one half of the jolly beggars had drunk themselves asleep, and lay like so many masses of inert clay on the floor, in a horizontal position. [Sketches in London. Conflicting Creeds. Most persons are aware that if a Protestant wishes to insult a Catholic, in our sister isle, be at tains his object by using the epithet “Ro man.” Call a Catholic a “Papist,” and lie heeds you not; call him a “Roman,” and his blood is up in an instant. Two old ladies of the “conflicting creeds”—a term well known in Ireland—were re cently engaged in a controversy, which was on the eve of terminating in favor of Protestantism, when the advocate of Ca tholicism exclaimed, “Don’t you take the blessed Testament as authority?” “I do.” “Wasn’t Saint Paul inspired, raydarlint?” “That’s true, sure enough.” “Don’t you know, jewel, that he wrote an epistle to the Romans?” “Sure enough he did, njavouruecn.” “Now, can you just wa ken your memory, and tell,me if be ever took the trouble to write to Protes tants?” This was a home-stroke, and the Protestant gave in. [London Paper. Men. Men act in regard to virtue, as the British" do in regard to money; small demands are paid by both in the genuine coin —large ones with its paper represen tative. *, tL-'# ' a INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS • [From the Macon M INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS.. * We regard the subject of Internal Im provements as the most important one that can be brought to the contiideration of the people of Georgia. It deserves to be the engrossing theme, for, compared with it, every thing else we deem ephem? era! and profitless. Under the protection of qur State Con stitution and Laws, we have nothing to dread for our lives or liberties, and what ever may be our fears of the consequen ces of federal usurpation upon the rity or existemie of the Union, here at home, “under our own vine and fig tree we can enjoy life and all the privileges belongings to freemen securely reposing under the ' etgis of that all powerful and pervading sanative principle, Status Rights. What then is left for us to do? It is to make our homes as comfortable, our property as productive, and life as worth enjoying as possible. In a word, it is full time we were looking to our interest— the interest of our State and of our selves. The question is often asked, why is Georgia so far behind the other States, in her "works of Internal Improvement? Na ture has done every thing for her, she is rich in agricultural and mineral products, and she has ail intelligent, industrious and enterprising population; there are no party lines of distinction at least upon this subject, and the word will be both to credit the disreputable suspicion, by some entertained, that sectional divisions and demagogue jealousies have retarded its progress. We have invariably bad but one reply to this humiliating question. The people arc not informed upon the subject. llow many of the citizens of this State, having never seen a Rail Road for instance, are unacquainted with its mode of construction, and with its practical op erations? How many arc there of our planters, who bringing tlieir produce to market fifty and a hundred miles over bad roads, travelling twenty miles a day, have ever made an estimate of t/io saving of —*im ............... I fillip nf tlieir produce when carried to market at (dtp rate of twenty miles per hour? llow-ngG nv of our native citizens are unacquaint ed with the incalculably valuable resour ces of their own State—its rich mineral productions, its iron, coal, marble, lime, &c., and its hundred of thousands of un cultivated lands, uncultivated only on ac count of the difficulty of transporting to market? The people, have not given these mat ters due reflection; tlieir public servants —their Senators and Representatives chosen by them to subserve-the interest of their constituents fc have not done them justice. Party spirit and the selfishness of party leaders, have diverted tlieir minds from matters touching tlieir own in terest. The press can be, if its conduc tors so will it, a most powerful regenera tor of public opinion, by collating facts, giving statistical details of rail roads, &c. and disseminating every piece of infor mation that is attainable, the public mind will be enlightened, and a tone will be given to public opinio:*, so as to secure at the next meeting of the Legislature, the patronage of the State, without which, all the projects of Internal Improvements must fail. We approve of tire idea suggested Ly the Telegraph, of having meetings in ev ery county, explaining the subject, and taking the sense of tin* people upon v. hut is best to be done. The subject is one affecting the general interest of the State, implicating no party creeds; and we would advise the Telegrapf), if it be friendly to Internal Improvements, not to provoke party prejudices bv reflections upon Gov. Gilmer’s independence, or the comparative independence of the two great political parties' of the State. Upon this subject there should be no divisons. So far as regards the propriety o*f calling an extra session of the Legislature to act upon this measure, if it be practicable, and consonant to public opinion, and would be the means of accomplishing the desired end, we certainly would recom mend it. The apprehensions of the Tel egraph are groundless, and his remarks thereupon gratuitous, that Gov*. Gilmer would veto the bill, should it pass. It would be his pride to sanction such a bill. Great Minds. The only men who can make a change in tin's worHLof ours* are they who are not changed by it. The multitude cannot civilize the rnultittxlp,. any more than hounds can teach hotinfp. A thousand drops of quicksilver will (ike as many different directions, and never of themselves, unite in one mass. Luther's Protestantism, Selbritz’s Philosophy etc. were like the offspring of a queen bee* which are fed and tended by thousands of barren workers.