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ffioctyff* lo PLEAS! I!!- Oh Pleasure! I have fondly wood But never won thy fleeting favour j Mv early suit was wild and rude, And sturtled, thou did-t fly forever. Awhile, 1 deeply Mirrowcd o’er The wreck of all that peridi’d then : Hut wilder, sweeter than heliu e, ‘Thy smile, though distant heuin and again. And, my sad heart, though deeply chill and Still panting sought thy lov ii elidnaee, Trac’d every path thy votaries-fill Tl, To meet thee in thy Besting f’lace. I saw thee mantling warm in wine, And deeply bath'd my fever'd lip ; 1 saw thee pause nt beauty 9 shrine. And surely hop'd thy sweets to sip. But winc and beauty both cotispird To lilt my sotd with dark regret; Korscarcely now, their sweets expird, And pleasure, fleeting, scap'd me yet. And now—with scarce n feeding w arm, When all should bloom in hearts un wasted I turn me, from thy lovely form, Thy joys unknown, thy sweets untasted. Then Tare thee well, deceitful shale ! Tho’ bright the charms that still adorn thee Too fondly press'll, they w ithering fade. And all who follow, soon must scorn thee. TIIK HI INS. n\’ sF.i.i.F.fK oshorv. I’ve seen at twilight’s pensive hour The moss-clad dome ; the mould ring tower, In awful ruins stand ; That dome where gratetul voices -aing, ’That tower whose chiming music rung, Majestically grand. I’ve spen mid sculptur'd pride the tomb, Where heroes slept in silent gloom, Unconscious of thei. tame : Those vs ho with laurel’d honours crown and, Among their foes spread terror round, And gained —an empty name. I've seen in death’s dark palace laid, “The ruins of a beauteous maid, Cadaverous and pale : That maiden, who, when lite remain’d O’er rival charms in triumph reign'd. The mistress of the vale. I’ve seen where dungeon’s damps abide, A youth, admir'd in manhood’s pride In fancied greatness rave ; fie who in reason's happier day, Was virtuous, witty, noble, guv— Learned, generous and brave. Nor dome, nor tower, nor twilight's shade, Nor hero fallen, nor beauteous maid— To ruins all consign and Can with such pathos touch the breast, As on the maniac's form impiess'd, -The ruins of a NOBLE MIND. •M9A#444* BEAUTY. Ive seen (lie eye of sunny blue And lips like rubies dipt in dew ; And locks in sunny radiance wreathing, And forms like alabaster breathing ; And felt that beauty never stole A lasting letter on the soul; As lightning swift, and free as w ind, The inindaioue can change the mind. It is not in the witchery Os rosy lip or azure eye, Nor in ‘he deeper sacrifice .Os cheeks abashed and whispered sighs. Light as the summer meteor's glance It stnrlles from the tempting trance ; Or w on —us quickly host ns won. Waves its bright pinion and i. gone W here then to find the spell that cling* The fetter on those wavering wings ? ’Tis in the native truth of heart, That scorns the thoughts of female art, That keenly thrill'd by joy nr pain, Disdains tbe thrill to hide or feign : And noxious but one heart to move, Toils not for triumph, but for love. On bis wild plume this fetter twine, The. wamirer's thine and ever thine ! -*► From the tinllwwrt Patriot. BEAUTY AND A.LULLING HEART. The tallowing linos w ore occasioned by see ing a beautiful young lady, iis she parcel an sliced blind man, slip n dollar into liis hand, tol ! ng him where she livad, ami snv, “ take this ami cfill on me to-morrow.” The rose on beauty's cheek is fair, And sweet (be li|v<>! coral seemeth ; And yet mile-- tin-re's pity tin re, In vain the cv e ot beauty lieamctli; A tear for others wo, by far, Is fairer than those beauties are. But when down beauty's cheek we see, A tear of sorrow gentlv stealing ; Ami when n sigh for misery, I’roclaims a heart dl tender feeling, It c point to Heaven and dcelnre, ’t hose bcnutics were imprinted there. T saw an aged son oi wo, Whose journey here was nearly ended; I saw bi c tears of sorrow flow, While he his trembling hand extended— Feeble, and obi. ami lotm , and blind, And shivering in the chilly wind. I saw a beauteous fol ia pass by. And cast on him a look of sorrow ; I heard her say, with tearful eye, “ Take this and cull on me to-morrow .” 1 knew her not, nor could I even [Vn. l.eurn whence she came: tin'aknown "•- /■/<<(- PI Till \s. AN heiuesm in jeopahdv. Tlow much ot common hostility de pends upon this circumstance—dis tance ! It the most hitter enemies vs ere to come into contact, how much their ideas of each other would he. chas tened and corrected / They would mutually amend their erroneous im pressions ; see much to admire and much to imitate in each other, and half the auimosity which sheds its baneful influence on societv, would fadeaway and be forgotten. It was one day when I was about seven years old, after an unusual bustle in the fa mily mansion, anil iny being arrayed in a black iVock, much to my incon venietce, in the hot month of August, j that I was told my asthmatic old un de had gone of! like a lamb, and that l was the heiress to ten thousand pounds per annum. This information given with an air of infinite importance made no great impression upon me at the time ; and in spite ot the circum stances being regularly dwelt on by ny French governess at Camden House after every hideous misdemea nor, I had thought little or nothing on the subject, till at the age of eighteen I was called onto bid adieu to Levizac and Pirouettes, and hear my uncle’s will read by my guardian. It furnished me indeed with ample materials for thinking Dr. Marrowfat’s face, neither human nor divine—l see it before me while 1 am writing—ap peared positively frightful, while he re ceipted its monstrous contents. It ap peared that my father and uncle, tho* brothers had wrangled and jangled through life; and that the only subject upon which they ever agreed was, to support the dignity of the V avasour fa mily. That in a moment of unprece dented unison, they had determined that, as the title fell to my cousin Ed gar, and the estates to me, to keep both united in the family, we should marry. And it seemed which ever party viola ted these previous conditions, was ac tually dependent on the oilier for bread and butter. When I first heard of this pious arrangement, l blessed my self, ami Sir Edgar cursed himself. — A passionate, overbearing, dissolute young man, thought I, for a husband ; for a husband of an orphan ; of a girl, who has not a nearer relative than himself in the world; who has no fa ther to advise her, no mother to sup port her. A professed rake too; who will merely view me as an incumbrance on his estate —who will think no love, no confidence, no respect, due to me —who will insult my feelings, deride my sentiments, arid wither with un kindness the best affections of my na ture. No—l concluded, as my consti tutional levity returned—l have the greatest possible respect for guardians, revere their office and tremble at their authority ; but to make myself wretch ed merely to please them ; No, no— I positively cannot think of it. Well—time who is no respecter of persons, went on. The gentleman was within a few months of being twenty one : and, on the day of his attaining age, he was to say whether it was his pleasure to fulfil the arrangement. — j My opinion, 1 found was not to be ask ed.—\ rich and titled husband was procured for me, and I was to take him and be thankful. I was musing on my singular situation when a tho’t struck me. Can you not see him and judge of his character unsuspected by himself? This is the season when he pays an annual \ ;to my god-moth er—why not persuade her to let me visit her incog ? i*he idea, strange as it was, was instantly acted on ; and a week saw me at Yffilc i* >yal, without carriage, without horses, without ser vants, to all appearance, a girl of no pretensions or expectations and avow- j cdly dependant or a distant relation, j to this hour,! remembered mj heart j beating audibly as 1 descended to the J diuinv room, where I was to see,for tin [ first time, the ai biter of my fate ; and j 1 never shall forget my start ot sur-1 prize when a pale, gentlemanly and ra ther reserved young man, in apparent ill health, was introduced to me as the noisy dissolate, and distracted baro net. Preciously have l been hoaxed thought I, as after a long, and rather interesting conversation with Sir Ed gar, 1, with the other ladies, left the inmn. Days rolled on in succession. T nance continually brought us togeth er, and prudence began to whisper, ‘you had better returnhome.’ Still— l lingered—till one evening towards the close of a long tetn a fete conversa tion, on my saving, ‘that I never con sidered money and happiness as sy nonymous terms and thought it very possible to live on 500 a year?’ lie re plied, ‘one admission more—could you live on it with me?’ ‘ You are doubtless acquainted,’ he continued with increasing emotion, ‘ with my unhappy situation, but not perhaps aware, that, revolting from an union with Miss Vavasour, 1 have resolved on taking orders and accepting a living from a friend, it, foiegoing more brilliant prospects, you would conde scend to share my retirement.”—His manner, the moment, the lovely scene which surrounded us, all combined against me ; and Heaven knows what answer I might have been lurried into had 1 not gone out—with a gaiety for eign to my heart, ‘ I can say nothing <o you till you have, in person and ex plained your se itimentsto Miss Vava sour. ee her at once.’— ‘ But why ?’ lie exclaimed, ‘could seeing her again and again reconcile me to her manners habits and sentiments r or any sum of money, however large, induce me to place at the head of my table n hump backed basblue in green spectacles r’ —‘ Hump-backed !’ * Yes from her cradle. But you color. Tin you know j her?’ ‘lntimately. She’s my most particular friend !’ ‘ 1 hope you re not, offended !’ ‘Oh no—-not offended.—j Humpbacked, good Heavens! noftthel least offended. Hump-backed of all things in the world:’ —and I involun tarily gave a glance towards the glass ‘ I had no conception,’ he resumed as goon as liecould collect himself, 1 that there was any acquaintance.’ ‘I he most intimate possible,’ l returned “ and I can assure you that you have been represented to her as the most dissolute, passionate, awkward, ill disposed young man breathing.’ “ The devil!”- “ Do not swear; hut hear me. See your cousin.— You will find yousclf mistaken. Furth er at present, this deponent soiil not!’ and, with a face ludicrously distorted with an attemp to smile, when 1 was monstrously inclined to cry I escaped to my own room. We did not meet again : for the next morning in no en viable frame of mind, 1 returned home. Not many weeks afterwards, Sir Edgar came of age. The bells were ringing blithely in the breeze —the ten ants were carousing on the lawn,when he drove up to the door. My cue was taken. With a large pair ot green spectacles on my nose, in a darkened room, near a table covered with pon derous vi lumes, I prepared for this tremendous interview. After hems innumerable, and with confusion the most distressing to himself and the most amusing to me,he gave me to un derstand that he cculd not fulfil the engagement made for him, and regret ted it had ever been contemplated. — ‘No, no, said I, in a voice that made him start, and drawing up the blinds, ‘ No, no, it is preposterous to suppose., Sir Edgar Vauasour would ever con nect himself with an ill-bred, awk ward, hump-backed girl.” Exclama tions and explanations, laughter and raillery—intermixed with more seri ous feelings followed—but tiie result of it was—that, that we are married. ELLEN. A Lesson for Duellists. Two friends happening to quar rel at a tavern, one of them, a man of very hasty disposition, insisted on the other’s fighting him the next morning. The challenge was ac cepted,on condition that they should breakfast together previous to their going to the field at the house of the challenged. When the chal lenger arrived the next morning according to appointment he found every preparation for breakfast, and his, friend, his wife, and children, ali ready to receive him. Their re past being over, and the family withdrawn without anv hint of the fatal purpose haying transpired, the. challenger asked the other if he if lie was ready to attend. u No sir,’’ replied lie, u not till we are mure upon a par ; that amiable woman,’ those -six innocent children, who just now breakfasted ■with us, depend solely upon my hie lor subsistence—and till you eau stake something equal in my estimation to the welfare of seven persons, dearer to me than the ap ple oi my eye, 1 cannot think we are equally matched.” “We are equally matched. ’* “We are not indeed ! ’ replied the other, giving him his hand, and they became firmer'friends than ever. From n pk'dnde'.phia Paper. A peculiarity attributed to Yankees is that of answer ing one question hq asking another, and numerous anec dotes are related to prove that it ex clusively belongs u> them. Hut who ever has travelled South must have found that it isquite as common among our southern brethren—whom by the wav, Europeans call Yankees—as it is at home, in New-England. That this peculiarity is there, indeed happi ly blended with some others, the fol lowing anecdote will illustrate. A gentleman passing through one of the southern states, and wishing to know the distance to a neighboring house, inquired of a planter who was leisurely at work by the road side,how far it was to I'ime's. ‘ From up coun try, / reckon ‘ Yes,’ said the gen tleman. ‘ Well how goes cotton r’—. ‘ Rather duTl, l believe.’ * Alight ij had roads, friend.’ ‘ Hut, says the traveller, how far do you call it to Pierce’s?’ ‘ Hound to S / reckon/ * Exactly,’ answered the traveller, and rode on—when the planter having completed his inquiries, proceeded to reply, ’ Well now, l don’t jestly know exactly, how far, hut l reckon you’ll find it something of a piece before you get there. A murder was committed in New-York a few nights since, the circumstances of which exhibit as deep depravity on the part of the’ murderer, as can be found on the American record of crime. It ap pears by the first accounts of the murder before any confusion was made ot the crime, that, J Allies Murray, the unfortunate victim of villainy, had been employed for sometime past in a foundry in the neighborhood of Boston—that he arrived in New-York on the 18th inst. in the sloop Fulton,from Bos ton—that soon after he took lodg ings with J ohnson, keeper of a sai lor’s hoarding-house at No. 63, Front-street —After the body was found on Friday night, the Mayor offered a suitable reward for the apprehension of the murderer, and the whole city was engaged in en deavoring to discover the perpetra tor of this horrid crime. The de ceased being described, the porter who carried his chest to Johnson’s, went with tiie proper officers to the house where the chest was found, and recognized by him.— Further search was made, and a bed and some cloths were found stained with blood. lie was an Irishman, about 35 years of age, and had a few hundred dollars with him, and was on his way to New j Orleans; the Rev. Mr. Power, (probably a clergyman of the Ro man Catholic Church,) testified that Murray had called on him, and proposed leaving his money with him until his return. Confession of ‘Johnson. —John Johnson, yesterday morning, con fessed himself to have been the murderer of Mr. James Murray, and that no one assisted or was privy to the transaction, until after the deed was completed. It ap pears from Johnson’s statement, that Murray supped with the fami ly ; that shortly after he proposed to retire, stating that he wished his trunk to be with him in his bed room. Johnson told him, that his wife being absent he should sleep with him, and took him with the trunk into the bedroom. Johnson remained with the two other hoar ders playing at cards, for some hours : they retired, and Johnson said, he was then impressed with a desire to possess the money in the trunk of Murray. He went into the bed-room, found him asleep, took from tire vest pocket the key, opened the trunk, and took out two bags of dollars, which he threw into r. corner. He now be came uneasy, and after a lapse of some time he says ” the devil” sug gested to him to kill Murray to prevent a detection of the robbery. He went into the cellar, procured a hatchet , and went to Murray, who was asleep on his right side, struck him twice on the left tem ple, -'which completed the horrid deed. Johnson then hound around the head a pair of drawrs and a bolster case, and took him through a trap door into the cellar. This was on Thursday night ,on Fri day night he carried the body a considerable distance to Cuyler’s alley, where it was discovered by the watchman. After he had committed the murder, he savs lie became most dreadfully agitated, and could not sleep in his own room ; he went into that where his uaughtar slept, and in the course of the night men tioned it to her, and the money’ was given to his daughter Mary, who gave it to her brother, an appren tice in Maiden-lane. The keeper of the Bridewell states,.that when Johnson was first committed, he appeared very in different, protesting his innocence, aid declaring that his mind was quite at ease. Mr. 1 horp went in to his room with blankets, late in the evening, when he had laid him self down—but said he could not sleep in consequence of not lying easy. On Monday morning, lie also complained that he had not been able to sleep. Yesterday morning he sent early for the keep er, and appeared in great agitation, lie stated that he had passed a hor rible night, and was resolved with er than to die with a lie in his mouth, to confess the whole. After the above confession, the son ol Johnson was arraigned, and stated that he had buried the mon ey on Brooklyn Heights, and ac companied the police officers to the spot, whereabout 380 dollais were found. T he family of Johnson consists of his wife, a daughter, and four sons. Johnson and his daughter are in Bridewell—the remainder ol the family are discharged from custody. % Alexandria, Nov. 12. On Wednesday, Betsy Williams k alius Betsy Ghu'.qk,*- j j|, fl raigned before the circuit’ ** B for the District ol Columbia | sitting in this county, f ( , r M Elijah Chenault, constable. M “‘^B It appeared from the testim ■ of a number of witnesses ti,,- B prisoner resisted the constable' ‘ I m attempting to distrain her f I ture tor mu; that he l, rok sheath of a swoid cane OVe *I head and shoulders of th e v/J ‘B in the contest; that she soon'?I struck him on the side ofthebll with a large piece of timber ( u uf| was produced in court) \j!'. I brought him to the ground J.'B she B "ve him a onil, if the thought she had not “him she would give him anotlJß blow ; and il a glass of rum Vok y| send him to hell she would him one. I The indictment stated that ! lf 1 (the constable) was killed whikjj the discharge of his duty, prisoner. I The prosecution was | by Mr. Swann with his usualabi- B lity. I Mr. IleWett commenced the de-1 fence of the prisoner with muc \ B warmth in a very ingenious, andß unusually lengthy speech ;andvjjl followed by Mr. TaUor. Ti e ß court were of opinion, we believe| that the order of distress to die B constable would not authorizeth| jury to find the prisoner guilty c jl murder on the ground that the con- B stable was acting as a bailiff,and ß not according to the statute, asl officer ; but that they might,under ß the circumstances, find her guilty I ol man-slaughter. The jury, after J i having retired about fixe minutesjfl returned with a verdict oiguiibj | The real gentleman will not burtlien you with his company, lie canteil, on the slightest hint, when he is net wanted. .\*OTtt LOST. 10ST or mislaid, in July or August I 1 last, a Note of hand, drawn it favor of H. C. Whitaker, by Z. 6J. Fuller, for the sum of Nineteen dol lars and fifty cents, due the 25th De cember, 1823. 1 hereby forewarn a'l persons from trading for said Note,a it will be paid to no one hut the sub scriber. B. C. WHITAKER. Bibb Cos, Dec. 12, 1823. 3v39 k *edvgfia—,]cWc\ son CouuU Decy Pool applii v V for letters of administration* the estate of Joseph Pool, late of sail county, deceased. These are, there fore, to cite ami admonish all ami sin gular the kindred and creditors ofsaid deceased, to he apt appear at my of fice, within the time prescribed by law, to shew cause, (if any,) whyad letters should not he granted. Given under my hand this £9thday of November, 1823. 11. 11. Shelnmv, c. c. a. 89—6 v’ FiXCciUov s Sa\e. WILL be sold on Friday the lM of .1 mi u ary next, at the late res idence of David llollaway deceased, in Jefferson county, The WvsounY Property of said deceased, consisting of astockof rattle, one Horse, Plantation TooK Corn and Fodder, &c. ike. ALSO—To be rented and hired 1 ® the same day the Plantation ami a® groes belonging to said estate. •Terms made known on day ot &* DA VID T. SAIITD, K.xf December 3(1, 1823. 0 s .AdnumshiWov's Sa\e. T \ ’ ILL he sold at the Coqrt-b V ? in Bibb county, on fi ,e 115 Tuesday in February next, OAK AT EG 710 FELLOW nanf' 1 Joe, belonging to the estate of J ( ” ! ’ 1). Williams, deceased: Sold authority of the Court of Ordinary 1° /hlih count v, for the benefit of the erf ditors of said estate. Timothy Matthews, r with the will f Dec. 3, 1 823. .VUnuVtslvalov's Sa\o \l7 ILL lie sold, on Thursday tb® * first day of January next, the highest bidder, at the house 11 Young Allen, in Jefferson (Jounty Two Xegro SUwo* - v,/ Willis, r man, ami Ref us, a boy, j** longing to the estate of Susanna” 1 , dan, deceased.—Sold for the be"*- the heirs and creditors of said *® c . and iu conformity with an order” Court of Ordinary ofsaid count’- Tenuis made known on the l -h Sale. , jfmN JORDAN, Ad® r Nov. Bth. 1823. 3jt “