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by CHARLES DAVIS.]
VOIUME 2.
BRUNSWICK ADVOCATE.
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CHARLES ALEXANDER,
Athenian Buildings,Franklin Place, I’hiladel a
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, IN THE CITY OF BRUNSWICK, GLYNN COUNTY, GEORGIA
BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, AUGUST 16, 1838.
POETRY.
ON LEAVING A SCENE IN BAVARIA
BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.
Adieu to the woods and water's side,
Imperial Danube’s rich domain;
Adieu the grotto wild and wide,
The rocks abrupt and glassy plain!
For pallid autumn once again
Hath swelled each torrent of the hill;
Her clouds collect, her shadows sail,
And watery winds that sweep the vale
Grow louder and louder still.
But not the storm, dethroning fast
Yon monarch oak of massy pile;
Nor river roaring to the blast
Around its dark and desert isle;
Nor church-bell tolling to beguile
The cloud-born thunder passing by,
Can sound in discord to my soul;
Roll on, ye mighty waters, roll!
And rage, thou darkened sky!
Oh! heart-effusions, that arose
From nightly wanderings cherished here,
To him who flies from many woes,
Even homeless deserts can be dear!
The last and solitary cheer
Os those that earn no earthly home;
Say, is it not, ye banished race,
In such a loved and lonely place
Companionless to roam?
Yes! I have loved thy wild abode,
Unknown, unploughed, untrodden shore,
Where scarce a woodman finds a road,
And scarce the fisher plies an oar;
For man's neglect 1 love thee more;
That art nor avarice intrude
To tame thy torrent’s thunder shock,
Or prune thy vintage of the rock,
Magnificently rude.
Unheeded spreads thy blossom’s bud
Its milky bosom to the bee;
Unheeded fans along the flood
Thy desolate and aged tree;
Forsaken scene, how like to thee
The fate of unbefriended worth!
Like thine her fruit dishonored falls,
Like thee in solitude she calls
A thousand treasures forth.
71 I H V E L Mj A A V .
THE BRIDE.
A SKETCH.
Emma had wheeled the sofa in front of
the fire, and as Charles seated himself be
side her he was certainly a happy fellow.
AI as, lie had as yet only drunk the bub
bles on the cup. Emma looked lovely,
for the glow of the warm fire, had given
a bloom to her usually pale cheek which
heightened the lustre of her dark eyes.
But there came a shade of thought over
Emma’s brow, and her husband instantly
remarked it. It is strange how soon
husbands see clouds over their leiges brow.
It was the first that Charles ever saw
there, and it excited his tenderest enquir
ies. Was she unwell? did she wish for
any thing? Emma hesitated, she blushed
and looked. Charles pressed to know
what had cast such a shadow over her
spirits. ‘I fear you will think me very
silly: but Mary French has been sitting
with me this afternoon/ ‘Not that cer
tainly,’ said Charles, smiling. ‘Oh! 1
did not mean that, but you know that we
began to keep house nearly the same
time, only they sent by Brent to New
York for carpeting. Mary would have
me walk down to Brent’s store this even
ing with her, and he has brought two —
and they are such loves.’ Charles bit his
lip. ‘Mary,’ she continued, ‘said you
were doing a first rate business, and she
was sure you would never let that odious ;
Wilton lay in the parlor, if you once saw |
that splendid Brussels; so rich,and so cheap
—only 75 dollars.”
Now, the ‘odjous Wilton’ had been se-i
lected by Charles’ mother, and presented
to them, and the color deepened on his
cheek, as his animated bride continued,
‘Suppose we go down to Brent’s and look
at it, there are only two, audit is a pity
not to secure it.’—‘Emma,’ said Charles
gravely, ‘you are mistaken if you suppose
my business will justify extravagance. It
will be useless to look at the carpet, as
we have one which will answer very well,
and it is perfectly new'.’ Emma’s vivaci
ty fled, and she sat awkwardly picking
her nails. Charles felt embarrassed—he
drew out his watch and put it back, whis
tled, and finally spying a periodical on
Emma’s table, began to read aloud some
beautiful verses. Ilis voice was well ton
ed, and he soon entered into the spirit of
the writer, and forgot his embarrassment;
w’hen looking into Emma’s eyes, how he
was surprised, instead of the glow of sym
pathetic feeling he expected to meet, to
see her head bent on her hand—evident
I displeasure on her brow, and a tear trick
ling slowly down her cheeks.
Charles was a sensible young man—(l
wish there were more of them) —and he
reflected a moment before he said, ‘Em
ma, my love, get your bonnet and cloak
on, and walk with me, if you please.’
Emma looked as if tshe would like to
poutja 1 ittlc longer but Charles said ‘come,’
with sucli serious gravity on his counte
nance, that Emma thought proper to ac
cede, and nothing doubting but that it
was to purchase the carpet, took his arm
with a smile of triumph. They crossed
several streets in the direction of Brent’s,
until they at last stood before the door of
a miserable tenement on a back street.
‘Where in the world are you taking me?’
inquired Emma, shrinking back. Charles
quietly led her forward, and lifting a latch
they stood a little room, around the
grate of which three small children were
hovering closer, and closer, as the cold
wind swept through the crevices in the
decayed walls. An emaciated being,
whose shrunk features, sparkling eye, and
flushed cheek spoke a deadly consump
tion, lay on a wretched, low bed, the
slight covering of which barely sufficed to
keep her from freezing,—while a spectral
babe, whose black eyes looked unnatur
ally large from its extreme thinness, was j
endeavoring to draw sustenance from the
dying mother.
‘llow are you, Mrs. Wright?’ quietly
inquired Charles. The woman feebly
raised herself on her arm. ‘is that you
Mr. West? Oh how glad lam you are
come—your mother?’—‘Has not been at
home for a month, and the lady wlio
promised her to look after you in her ab
sence, only informed me to day of your i
increased illness.’ ‘I have been very ill,’ j
she faintly replied, sinking back on lier |
straw bed. Emma drew near, she arraug- j
ed the pillow and the bed clothes orer j
the feeble sufferer but her heart was too
full to speak—Charles observed it and
felt satisfied. ‘ls that beautiful girl your
bride? I heard you were married.’ 'Yes,
and in my mother’s absense she will not
see—you suffer.’ ‘Bless you Charles
West—bless you for the good sou of a
goodjnother; may your young wife de
serve you, and that is wishing a great deal
for her. You are very good to think of
me,’ she said, looking at Emma, ‘and you
are just married.’ Charles saw that Em
ma could not speak and hurried her home,
promising’to send the poor woman coal
that night. The moment they reached
home, Minima burst into tears. ‘My dear
Emma,’ said Charles soothingly, ‘1 hope
I have not given you too severe a shock.
It is sometimes salutary to look on the
miseries of others, that we may properly
appreciate our own happiness. Here is
a puise containing seventy-five dollars,
you may spend it as you please.’
It is unnecessary to say, that the ‘odi
ous Wilton’ kept its place, but the shiver
ing children of want were taught to bless
the name of Emma West, and formed the
last articulate murmur on the lips of the
dying sufferer.
The interestin'!* Yocno Lady. The
following is an extract from a late work
entitled ‘Sketches by Quiz:’
VVI toever is at all in the habit of going
to evening parties must have frequently
observed sitting on the sofa by the fire
side, with an air of the most profound
melancholy, the interesting young lady.
She is generally jammed in between two
fat old ladies, who talk aefoss her, but in
whose conversation she never bears a part.
Her face is unusually long, something be
tween tallow and spermaceti in complex
ion. A long cork-screw ringlet dangles
down at each side, round which she oc
casionally twists her fore finger in a sol
emn melo-dramatic style. Evidently her
thoughts are ‘far away.’ She never utters
a syllable to any one. Now and then she
wrinkles her forehead, just to denote the
intense misery that is passing within. Her
posture, so far as cap be contrived be
tween two fat old ladies, is essentially pic
turesque; her head thrown back in a de
lightfully negligent manner, her eyes
turned up to the ceiling; her legs crossed
with the toe slanting downwards as straight
as a Tuler, and one of her hands thrown
carelessly on her lap upside down.
At each introduction she bows in the
most elegant style imaginable A gra
cious smile lights up her features for a mo
ment, after which she relapses into her
former unconscious state of profound
thoughtfulness. Blue, diversified with
white, is her constant dress; not an orna
ment is to be seen, except that little sim
ple black cross, which gives the final
touch to her interesting appearance, mak
ing her look like the most touching of all
beings, a persecuted Roman Catholic
young lady.
‘What an interesting young creature,’
says every one to every one. ‘Poor thing’
how melancholy she looks! What can
be her name?’ ‘Eliza de Lacy,’ replies
| the lady of the house, highly delighted.
‘Eliza de Lacy; what a pretty name!’ says
j each young lady who hears the discourse,
, and straightway retires into a corner with
! some other young lady, to talk over the
interesting pale unknown.
At an early hour the interesting young
i lady’s papa comes from his rubber, puts a
| shawl of some unusual pattern around
her very carefully, and marches her away.
: Every one feels relieved at her depart-
ure, and yet the interesting young lady
has gained her end. She has produced a
sensation. No sooner is she outside the
door than she becomes perfectly natural
| and merry—satirizes the two old ladies
most unmercifully—retails all their scan
dal in the most piquant manner—quizzes
the mistress of the house till her father
splits his sides—and finally goes to bed
with the delightful conviction that all the
neighborhood will be talking of her more
or less, for the next week to come.
THE LATEST YANKEE TRICK.
'Three French Officers and six Men captured by
Three American Tars.
The town was all agog the w hole of yes
terday afternoon, in consequence of the
arrival of the schooner Lone, Capt. Clark,
of this port, from Matamoras, having on
board, in apparent captivity, three French
Naval officers and six men. Every body
we met had such a droll chuckle and grin
on his countenance, that it was sometime
before we could understand what it all
meant. —However, we went aboard, saw
the mate and received from him the par
ticulars of the affair as follows :
The Lone left this city some time since
with a valuable cargo for Metamoras. She
succeeded in getting into the port despite
of the blockade; but in attempting to re
turn was captured by the boats of a French
brig of war; the four sailors and a passenger
were placed on board the vJ. S. sloop of
war Vandalia; and Capt. Clark, the mate
and steward, were allowed to remain on
board. A prize crew took charge of her,
consisting of a lieutenant, quarter master,
captain of the foretop and six sailors,
nine in all—and thus rigged out, the
prize was despatched to the French admi
ral at Vera Cruz. This capture, &.c. took
place on the 25th or 28th of June—the
mate does not remember which, as he had
not the log convenient when we saw him.
After getting every thing in readiness
they proceeded on their way to Vera Cruz.
The French were strangers, not acquaint
ed with the currents, the coast, the North
ers, &c. and the Yankee prisoners blarney
ed them so, that they struck rmic.h farther
to the eastward than was necessary, and
actually made a mistake of three degrees
in their reckoning. The Yankees, how
ever, knew where they were and what
they were about, and kept dark.
At length on the morning of the 4th of
July, about 4 o’clock, the three American
tars commenced their celebration by a
bold stroke for independence, when they
were only 30 miles from Sacrificios, where
the French squadron lay. Capt. Clark,
j the mate and steward were all on deck.
They first took the precaution to lock the
door of the cabin, thus fastening in the
lieutenant commandant, and put the hatch
over the forecastle—the captain then went
up to the man at the wheel, and placing
his linger in such a way as to resemble a
pistol, swore he would blow his brains
out if he did not instantly put the helm
down. The fellow' obeyed, and was tied.
Three others who were oil deck, were
j also “lit on,” tied down and secured.
The other four who were in the forecas
tle, were ordered up, and as they came up
i one by one, they also were tied. The
tri-colored flag was taken down, the stars
and stripes were again hoisted, and Capt.
Clark, after thus so completely re-taking
this veseel without bloodshed, with a force
|of three rnen against nine, resumed the
! command and shaped his course for this
port, with his prisoners strung together
like so many dried apples, where he ar
rived yesterday at two o’clock.
| These three gallant fellows appear to
j have met with but little resistance. They
j were determined to have possession of the
vessel. This, we presume, the Frenchmen
I perceived at the commencement of hos
tilities, and concluded tliat it would be
as well to submit with the best grace
possible. The prize was worth about
825,000 of which 815,000 was specie
and the remainder in hides. This was
too paltry a matter to fight for, and we
think it was well enough that the blocka
ders disdained to shed blood for such
a trifle.
The Lieut. Commandant, we under
| stand, retained possession of the papers
! of the Lone, but whether he has yet given
j them up to the Custom House officers,
Iwe have not learned. At all events, we
I cannot think that any national difficulty
will grow out of the affair. Our French
1 friends should forget it all, or only laugh
|at it as»..cut.e trick—of a nature which
| the Yankees are always up to. It is in
| deed a most laughable joke to think of
i three men capturing nine!—[N. O. Pica
yune.
; Scene.—The Castle on Fire. —Hob
Handy —Where’s your famous prepara
tion sor s extinguishing flames?
Sir Abel. —Tis’nt mixed.
Bob. —Where’s ypur fire escape?
Sir A. —Tis’nt fixed.
Bob. —Where’s your patent fire engine?
Sir A. —On the road. •)
Bob. —What’s to be done?
Sir A. —l don’t know. Stay Bob, I j
have it.—Perhaps it will go out of itself I
A Kentuckian’s account of a Pantherfight.
BY JAMES H. HUNT.
I nevqr was down-hearted but once in
my life, and that was seeing the death of
a faithful friend, who lost his life in trying
to save mine. The fact is, I was making
tracks homeward, after a short tramp
though one of our forests, my rifle care
lessly resting on my shoulder, when my
favorite dog, Sport, who was trotting
quickly ahead of me suddenly stop’d stock
still, gazed into a big oak tree, bristled up
his back, and fetched a loud growl. I
looked up, and saw, upon a quivering limb,
a half grown panther, crouching down
close, and in the very act of springing up
on him. With a motion quicker than
chain lightning, I levelled my rifle, blazed
away, and shot him clear thro’ the heart.
The varmint, with teeth set and claws
spread, pitched sprawling headforemost
to the ground, as dead as Julius Caisar.
That was all fair enough! But mark! a
fore I dropped my rifle, 1 found myself
thrown flat on my profile, by the old she
panther, who that moment sprang from
an opposite tree, and lit upon my shoulder,
heavier than all creation! I feel the print
of her devlish teeth there now! My dog
grew mighty loving—he jumped atop and
seized her by the neck; we all rolled and
clawed, scratched and a pretty consider
able tight scratch we had of it. I began
to think my right arm was about chawed
up: when the varmint finding the dog’s
teeth rather hurt her feelings, let go al
together and clinched him. Seeing at
once that the dog was undermost, and
there was no two ways about a chance of
choke off or let up about her, I just out
with my jack knife, and with one slash,
perhaps I didn’t cut the panther’s throat
deep enough for her to breathe the rest of
her life without norstrils. I did feel migh
ty savagerouSj and big as she was, I laid
hold of iier hide by the back with an alli
gator grip, and slung her against the near
est tree, hard enough to make every bone
in her flash fire. ‘There,’says I, ‘you in
fernal varmint, root and branch, you are
what I call used up.’
But 1 turned round to look for my dog,
and tears gushed smack into my eyes, as
I see the poor affectionate cretur —all of
a gore of blood—half raised on his fore
legs, trying to drag his mangled body to
wards me—down he dropped; I run up to
him, whistled loud, and gave him a friend
ly shake of the paws —(for I loved my
dog)—but he was too far gone —he just
had strength enough to wag his tail fee
bly—fixed his closing eyes upon me wish
fully—then he gave a gasp or two and all
was over.
We seldom laughed more heartily than
while reading the following account of
the way in which they once ‘got up’ Mac
beth in India. The Idea of Lady Macbeth
being caught shaving herself is ludicorous
in the extreme.
“Never shall I forget,” says the writer,
“the getting up of the tragedy of Macbeth,
at Madras.—The part of Lady Macbeth
was undertaken by a young gentleman
named Anstey. Every one knows how'
rapidly the beard grows in a hot climate.
Anstey’swas of the blackest tint, and it
being a warm season of the year, before
the fourth act, it had grown so long as to
render it actually necessary for Lady Mac
beth to shave before she appeared in the
fifth. It was, however, so sultry behind
the scenes, and there was so little air in
the room appropriated for dressing, that
Anstey ordered a table and looking glass
and his shaving apparatus, to be placed on
the stage where there was a strong current.
In malicious pleasantry, someone rang
the prompter’s bell which was the signal
for drawing the curtain. It was promptly
obeyed, and, to the amazement of the
whole assembled fashion of Madras, Tom
Anstey was exhibited in the costume of
Lady Macbeth, in that most unfeminine
part of his toilet. The roar, the screams
of surprise and merriment that ensued are
beyond description.”
Like Preserving Vest. —We yester
day had an opportunity to witness from the
Bunker Ilill wharf an exhibition of the
worth and power of the “Life Preserving
Vest,” the invention of Mr. W. C. Petti
bone, of this city. A full grown boy with
all his clothes on but his coat, was buoyed
up in the river by one of these vests, and
his head kept entirely out of the water,
without the least exertion on his part.
We believe all who were present were per
fectly satisfied that the invention answers
the purpose for which it is designed. It is
made like any common vest, with the ex
ception that the breast and a portion of the
back are lined with India rubber, which
can be inflated by the breath in a few mo
ments and as well in the water as out of
it.
It is not intended that these shall be put
on only when immediate danger threatens,
; but worn at 4t\ times when travelling on
the water, as the India rubber, when un
inflated, does not injure the appearance.
Hartford (Con.) Courier.
[TERMS $3 IN ADTjUfliii.
NUMsad*-
Strong facts in regard to Hoitt*
Racing —A writer in the Lonisville dty
Gazette, tfius tersely, prfjMnts this mat
ter:
“ Races, it is said, improve the breed
of horses. And what if they do, if they
degrade the breed of men. But I doubt
the truth of the position. Some few
startling or stubborn facta are on the,
other side. I never heard of races in Ara
bia, yet the best horses and the best blood
in the world are there. The great rac
ing stock of England and America came
from the blood of the Godolphin Arabi
an. There are no races in New England,
yet the New England horses are worth*in
this country from fifty to a hundred per
cent, more than southern horses. The
horses for the plough, dray, saddle, stage
coach, or gig, in New England, would
bring under the hammer far higher pri
ces in racing sections of the country,
than their own horses. Racing only in
proves the breed of race horses. I was
told in Virginia, by the stage drivers, that
their best horses were brought from Ver
mont and New Hampshire—the Green
Mountain horses are the best in the coun
try for symmetry, strength, fleetness and
endurance. Yet there is no racing in
New England. Racing, then, is surely
not essential to make good hoses.”
V. vs. W. ‘Villiam, I vant my|v<g.
‘Vitch vig sir?’
‘Oy, my vire vig, in the vooden vig
box, vot I vore last Vednesday vas a veek
veil I vent to vidow Vaddle’s vedding.’
‘l’m wery much wexed at your wulgur
pronunciation, Walentine. You should
say trig, not rig. But if you are going a
wisiting you had better take your wolwet
cap that you had on last meeting of the
westry.
‘Vile, you are always vorying me vMk
your criticism upon my vords. lam not
going a wisiting as you say, but am go
ing lo take a valk along the vharf, and
around Vashington street, and perhaps I
vill go as far as Lake Vimico, and see
the company’s vater vorks.’
Duelling—Answer to a Challenge.
—The eccentric H. 11. Breckenridge, one
of the Judges of the Supreme Court of
Pennsylvania,when a young man was chal
lenged to fight a duel by an English officer,
w hom he answered as follows.
“I have two objections to this due! mat
ter —the one is lest I should hurt you,
and the other is lest you should hurt me.
I do not see any good it would be to put a
ball through your body. I could make no
use of you when dead, for any culinary
purpose, as I would a rabbit, or a turkey.
lain no cannibal to feed on the flesh of
man. Why then shoot down a hutpn
creature, of whom I could make no use?
A buffalo would make better meat. For
though your flesh might be delicate and
tender, yet it wants the firmness and con
sistency which takes and retains salt. At
any rate it would not be fit for a long fc:j
voyage.
“You might make a good barbecue, it
is true, being of the nature of a Raccoon
or Oppossom; but people are! not in a hab
it of barbecuing any thing that is human
now. And as to your hide it is not worth
talking of, being little better than a two
year old colt. So much for you. As to
myself I do not like to stand in the way of
any thing that is hurtful. lam under the
impression that you might hit me. This
being the case I think it most advisable to
stand at a distance. If you want to try
your pistols, take some object, a tree or a
barn door, about my dimensions. If you
hit that send me word, and I shall ac
knowledge that if I had been in the same
place you might also have hit me.”
Obesity in Africa. —lt was a subject
of remark among us, and ocfifivoned
some amusement to see the different ef
fects of heat on different constitutions.
with the thermometer at 84,
1 felt cold in a blanket dress, aud other
times, at 75, I was oppressed with heat.
It appeared, however, to depend mud) on
the moist or dry state of the 'atmosphere,
I found that a very simple role haq al>V
erto kept me in excellent health; tfl felt
sleepy after a meal, I considered it a
gentle hint from my|stoinach that I was
over working it, and reduced gtjr fare
accordingly. In fact 1 less
one consumed the betMKJpKßiir par
ty appeared to hare a Mr iutrtcowmta
ble propensity to becpfitTlkt. I did not
eat on% half aocustonved
to do in England, and yet could not keep
myself from increasing. Dr. Briggs was
precisely in the same way: and as for Lan
der he was as broad as he was long..
[Travels in Africa.
Something New. —A writer in the
United States Gazette, says that cayenne
pepper, mixed with Indian ■*•!, is excel
lent food for turkies! The tnrkies raised
by this process are more hardy, less
ble to perish from the cold storms and
wet weather, and acquire their growth at.
an earlier period, than those that are rear*
ed upon the ordinary food,