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THE MUSEUM. THERMOMETRICAL AND ANOLOGICAL TABLE v A'rpt at Tybee, f'-om July 30 to Aug . 5. TYBEE. SAVANNAH. = 1 ISB T)4TE. 2 . WISD. 5 WISD, * -*• rs July 30 884 ssw 87 s 12 86 sisbyE 89 .ss 384 sby e 87 es e _____ 683 w 861 sn 31 c 77 k e 80 it x 12 79 es e 86 E -by s 8 81 be 86 e 6 80 E 8 E 87 n f- ‘ Aug’. 1 880 eby n 82 he 12 82 “ 84 se | 3 84 “ 81 s 682 e 80 __ “ i 2 883 e 81 by"w 12 86 sbvN 86 e 3 84 e 87 3 ll 81 es e 80 nby w 12 83 “ 87 eby s 384 be 89 s e 6 73 ie 86 s 4 BIU4 nxV 82 “ b 12 85 sby e 87 “ 3 86 “ 88 - .... 684 “ 86 j g 79 wby s 85 s w 12 83 sby e 87 3 84 s 86 s 6 ; 9 SB 84 “ Fiom *'Lights mid Shadows of Scotish Lift.” AN HOUR IN TriK MANSE. In a few weeks the annual Sacrament of the i Lord’s Sujtpcr was to be administered in the parish of Deanside; &. the minister, venerable I irt okl age, of authority by the power of Iris tali eni* and learning, almost feared for his sanctity, ! yet withal beloved for gentleness and compass- ’ son that had never been found wanting when re- I quired either by the misfortunes or errors of a- i I;v pi s flock, had delivered for several success ive Sabbaths, to full congregations, sermons on < t|,e proper preparation of communicants in that uwiul ordinance. The old man was a followei | of Cal vim and many; who had listened to him i with a resolution in their hearts to approach the t tab'-i of the Redeemer, fe]t so awe stricken and I awakened at the conclusion of his exhortations, • that,they-gave their souls anotlier year to medi- I tate on wnat they bad heard, and a pure and < humble ’Course of life, to render themselves less t ‘unworthy to partake the mysterious and holy ’ bread and wine ’ The good old man received in the Manse, I for a couple of hours every everfng, such of his | paAshioners as came to signify their wish ‘o I panalce of the sacrament; and it was then no < ted, that though he in no wise departed, in his conversation with them at such tones, from the l spirit of those doctrines which-lie had delivered 1 from the pulpit, yet liis manner was milder, I am) more soothing, arid fi*H of encouragement; ‘ So that many who went to him almost with qua- ‘ Jtpig l,v ti, i runrpiiiity and peace, and ‘onked forward to the most impressive and 1 Solemn act, of the Christian faith, with calm and I glad aiiiicip..tiii;i.’ The old mao thought trilij and justly, that few, if any, would conic to me ] manse, after having heard hi in in the kirk, with out due and deep reflection; and, therefore, ! though he allowed none to pass through his 1 hands with >ut strict examination, he spoke to 1 them all benignly, and with that sort of pater nal pity, w hich a religious man, about to leave 1 this life, feels towards all his brethren of man- * kind, who are entering upon, or engaged in its • scenes of agitation, trouble, and danger. { One of these evenings, the . servant showed * into die minister's study a tall, bold-looking, 1 dark-vi9aged man, in the prime of life, who, 1 With little of the usual courtesy, advanced into 1 the middie of the room, and somewhat abruptly dec)area the sacred purpose of his visit. Bill 1 before he could receive a reply, he looked a- ‘ round agd before him; and there was some- ‘ tiling so solemn in the old minister’s appear- 1 an e as he „ai like a spirit, with his unclouded ! ey-.’ ix dan on the intruder, that person’s < c i ntenance fell, and his heart was uivoliuitari I 1. - u eke.i against his side. An old large Hi- J ble, the same that he read from in the pulpit, 1 Was lying upon before him One glimmering 1 candie showed, his beautiful and silvery locks 1 failing over his temples, as his head half stoop- ‘ e.d over the Sacred page; a dead silence was in 1 the room dedicated to meditation and prayer; 1 the old inan, it was known, sometime fell him jself to iie dying, and had spoken of the sacra- : meat of this summer as the last he could ever J hope to administer; so that altogether, in the 8 silence, the dimness, the sanctity, the unworhl- s lines* of the lime, the place, and the being be- * fore him, the visiter stood like one abashed and ‘ apph el; and bowing more reverendly, or, at ’ least, respectfully, he said, with a hurried and 1 quivering voice, • Sir, I come for your sanction * to he admitted to - the table at - our Lord. The minister motioned to. him with liis hand ! to si* down', and it was a relief to the trembling 1 roan to do so, for he was in the presence of him who he felt saw into his heart A sudden’ change; from hardihood to terror, took place j! within liis dark nature —he wished himself nut;’ of the insupportable sanctity of that breathless j . room; and a remorse, that had hitherto slept;- or been drowned within him, now clutched liis 1 heartstrings as if with an alternate grasp of ! frost and tire, and made liis knees knock against : each oilier w here he sat, and his face paie as 1 ashes. 1 •Norman Adams, saidst thou that thou wilt , take into that hand, and put into those lips, the symbol of the blood that was shed for sinners, and of the body that bowed on the cross, and then gave up the ghost? If so, let us speak to- 1 gather, even as if though were communing with i, thine own heart. Never, again; may 1 join in that sacrament, for the hour of my departure is ‘ st hand. Say, wilt thou eat and drink death to ‘ thine immortal soul ’ The terrified man found strength to rise from : Lis seat, and staggering towards the door, said, •Pardon, forgive ins, lam not worthy ‘ *lt is . not I who can pardon,-Norman. The power lies not with man—Put sit down—you are dead ly f>sle—an ’ tluiigh, I fear, an ill-living anp dissolute man, greater sinner-- have repented and been saved. ‘ A pproacii not now the table of the Lord, but confess all your sf ns before him in the silence of your own house, and upon your naked knees on the stone floor every mornmg every night—and it this you do faithfully, humbly, and.with a contrite ln-art, come to me ‘ again whyn the Sacrament is over, and l will speak words of comfort to you; if, then, I am able to speak, if, Norfnan, it should be on my death bed. This will I do for the sake of thy soul, atid fbr the sake of thy father, Norman, whom my soul loved, and who was a support to me in my ministry, for many long years, even for two score and ten, for we were at school to gether—and had your father been living now, iie would, like myself, have this very day fit isli ed his eighty-fifth year. I send you not from me in anger, but in pity and love. Go, my son, and this very night begin your repentance, for if that face speak the truth, your heart must be sorely charged.’ Just as the old man ceased speaking and be fore the humble or at least affrighted culprit had risen to go, anotlier visitor of a very differ ent kind was shown into the room. A young, beautiful girl, almost shrowded in her c! -ak, with a sweet pale face, on which sadness seem ed in vain to strive with the natural expression of the happiness of youth. ‘Mary Simpson,’ said the kind okl man, as she stood with a timid courtesy near the door; •Mary Simpson, approach and receive from my hands the token for which thou cornest Well, dost thou know the history of thy Saviour’s life, and rejoicest in the life and immortality brought to light by the gospel. Young and guileless, Mary, art thou, and dim as my memory now is of many things, yet do I well remember the evening, when first beside my knee thou heavi est read how the wise men from the East came to the place ofhis nativity—and how the An gels were heard singing in the fields of Uethle-. hem all the night long ’ Alas, every word tha* had thus been uttered, sent a pang into (he poor creature’s heart, and without lifting her eyes from lhi floor, and in a voice more faint and hollow than belonged to one so young, she said, “Oh! Sir, I conie not as an i: .ending communicant; yet the Lord my God knows that I. am rather miserable than guil ■y, and he will not stiller my soul to perish, though a baby is now within me, the child of guilt, and sin, and horror. This, my shame, come I to tell you: but for the father of my ba be unborn, cruel though lie has been to me, Oh! cruel, cruel indeed, —yet shall liis name go down with me in silence to the grave,. 1 must not, must not breathe his name in mortal ears, but I have looked round me in the wide moor, and when nothing that could understand was by, nothing living but birds, and bees, antj the sheep I was herding, often have I whispered his name in my prayers, and beseeched God and Jesus, to forgive him all his sins ” At these words, of which the passionate ut terance seemed to relieve her heart, and before the pitying and hew ilderetl old man could re- - ply, Alary Simpson raised her eyes from the floor, ana fearing to meet the face of the tninis t< r, ’ which had heretofore never shone upon ; her but witli smiles, and of which the expected i frown .was to her altogether insupportable, she i turned them wildly round the room, as if for a I dark resting place, and beheld Norman A< ams rooted to his scat, leaning towards her with liis i white ghastly counlnnanre, and his eyes start! g , from their sockets, seemingly in wrath, agony, | fiaaiv-and remorse That terrible face struck poor Alary to the heart, and she sank against i the well, and slipped down, shuddering upon a ] chair “Norman Adams, 1 am old and weak, but do < you put your arm round that poor lost creature, ] and keep her frbm falling down on the hard i Hour. I hear it is a stormy night, and she has - walked some milt s hit ev, no wonder she is o- j vercoine. You have heard her confession; but ( •t was not meant lor your ear so, ti'l 1 see you ; again, o-y nothing ot wnat you inn; ■— heard. ; ‘•O Sir ! a cup of v ater, for my blood is either | Raving my heart altogether, or it is droyving it , Yotir Voice, sir, is going far, far away from me, 1 and lam sinking down Old hold me,— hold , me. up! —is it a pit into which lam falling? -Saw ] I not Norman Adams?—Where i he now?’’ The poor maiden did not fail of the chair, ai- j though Norman Adams supported her no*; but | her iiead lay back against the wall, and a s gb, , long and dismal, burst from her bosom that . deeply, affected the old mans heart but struck j lliat of the speechless ami motionless sinner, | like Uie first toll of the prison bell that warns | the fellon to leave his cell and come forth to ex- , ecution. ‘ The minister fixed n stern eye upon Norman, | for, from the poor girl’ ur.concimls words, it , was plain that he was the guilty wretch who ( had wrought ail this misery. “You knew, did you not, that she had nti’ her father nor mother, , sister nor brother, scarcely one relation on , earth to care for or watch over her; and yet ] have you Used her so? If her beauty was a temptation unto you, did not the sweet chilli’s | innocence touch your hard and selfish heart | vvitn pitv; or tier guilt and grief must surely j now wring it with remorse Look on her— j white—cold—breathless—still as a corpse; and , yet, i lion hold had man, thy foot steps would , hare approached the Table of thy Lord.” Mary*Simpson partly avoke from her swoon, and her dim opening eyes met those of Norman , Adams She shut them with a shudder, and | said, sickly and with a quivering voice, “'(> . spaie me, Norman: Are we again in that dirk ] fearful wood? Tremble not for your life on , earth, Norman for never, nev *r wilt 1 tell to mortal ears that terrible secret; but spare , me, spare me, else our Saviour, with all his , mercy, will never pardon your unrelenting soul , 1 hese are cruel looking eyes; you will not sure ly murder poor Alary Simpson, unhappy as she 1 is, and must forever be—yet life is sweet! She , beseeches jou on her knees to spare her life!” , —and in the intense fear of phantasy, the poor creature struggled off the chair, and fell down indeed in a heap at his feet ‘ Canst thou indeed be the son of old Norman ! | Adams, the industrious, the temperate, the mild, and the pious ? Who so often sat iii this very room, which your presence has polluted, and and spake with me on the mysteries of life and of and, slh Toni ravisher what stayed thy hand from the murder of that child, when there were none near to hear her shrieks in the dark solitude of the great pine wood f” Norman Adams smote his heart and fell down too on hiskness beside the poor ruined orphan j He put his arm round her, and, raising her from j the floor, “No, no, my sin is great, too great ‘for heaven’s forgiveness; but, O Sir, 9ay not,— isa> not that I would have murdered lire; for sav age as crime was, yet may God judge roe less terribly, than if 1 had taken her life ” In a little while they were both seated with some composure, and silence was in the room. No one spoke.A. the old gray haired man sat with eyes fixed, without reading on the open Bible At last he broke silence with these words out of Isaiah that Seemed to have foroed themselves on liis heedless eyes. “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be whi’e as snow; though (hey be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Mary Simson wept nfoud at,these words; and seemed to forget, her own wrongs and grief in ommiseratiou ot the agonies of remorse and fiar that were now plainly preying on the soul of the guilty man. “I forgive you, Norman, and will soon be out of the way, no longer to anger you with the sight or me,” Then fixing hes streaming eyes on the minister, she brought him not to be the means of bringing him to punishment, and a shameful death, for that he might repent, and live to be a good man, and respected in the palish; but she was a poor or phan for whom few cared and who, when dead would have but a small funeral. “I will deliver myself up into tho hand of jus tice,” saiil the offender, “for I do not deserve to live. Mine was an inhuman crime, and let a violent and sliamefuil death be my doom.” The orphan girl now stood up as if bet atrengh hadj been restored, and stretching out her hands passionately, with a flow of most af fecting ana beatifui language, inspired by a meek, single, and sinless heart, .that could not bear thought of utter degradation &{ wretched ness befalling any one ot’ the retional children of God, implored and beseeched the old man to comfort the sinners before him, :.nd promise that the dark transaction of guilt should never leave the concealment of their own three hearts. “Did lie not save thy lives ot two bro who were drowning in that black mossy loch, when their own kindred, at wrrk a mong the hay, feared the deep sullen water, and all stood aloof shuddering and shrieking, till Norman Adams leap’t in to thc-ir rescue, and drew them by the dripping hair to the shore, and then laydown beside them on the heather, as like to death as themselves ? I myself saw it done; I my sell heard the mother call down the blessings of God on No; man's head, and then all the haymakers knelt down and prayed.- When you, on the Sabbath, reiurued thanks to God for that they were saved, Oh I kind Sir, did you not name, in the full kirk, him who, un der Providence, did deliver thorn from death, am! who, you said thus showed himself to be a Christian indeed? May his sin against me be forgotten, for the sake of those two drowning boy *, and their mother who blesses his name unto ’his day.” from a few questions solemnly asked, and so lemnly answered, the minister found that Nor man Adams had been won by the beauty and loveliness of this poor orhan shepherdess, as he had sometimes spoken to her when sitting on the hilside with her flock, but that pride bad prevented him from ever thinking of her in mar riage It appeared that lit had also been false ly informed, by a youth whom Mary disliked lor his brutal 6c gross manners, that she was not the innocent girltnat-seeming simplicity deno ted. On returning from a festive meeting, where this abject person had made many mean iiisinutioiis against her virtue, Norman Adams met hi r returning to her master’s house, in the dusk of tiie evening, on the fool pith leading through a lonely wood; and, though his crime was ot the deepest dye, it seemed to the minis-, ter of the religion ol mercy, that by repentance, and belief in the atomneftt, that had once been made fir sinners, he too might perhaps hope for forgivuess at the throne of God. “I warned ycu, miserable man, of the fatal nature of sin, when it first brought a trouble over y dur countenance, and broke in upon the peaceful integrity of your life. Was not the si lence of the night often terrible to you, when you were alone in the moors, and the whisper* ofvour own conscience told you, that every wicked thought was sacreiige to your- father’s du.vt? Step by step, and almost imperceptibly, perhaps, did you advance upon the road that leadeth to destruction: but look back now, and what a long dark journey have you taken, stand ing as you are on the brink of everlasting death, OnCe you were kind, gentle, generous manly, and free, but you trusted to ihe deceifitlness of ;<iut u*niitw,| y-nn ratmuged youfseil from Hie house of the God ofyour lathers, and what has your nature done for you at la-t but sunk you into a wretch, savage, selfish, cruel, Cow. ardiv, and in good truth a you, ancl forfeited to the hangman’s hand— Look on that poor innocent chiid, and what is man without God. What would you give now, if the last three years of your reck e s 1 t'e hurt been past in a dungeon dug deep into the earth, with hunger and thirst gnawning at vour heart and bent down under a cart load of chain:? Yet look not so ghastly, for I condemn you not ut terly; nor, though I know your guilt, can l know what good may get be left uucorrupted un cxtiiiguished in your soul. Kneel not to me.— Norman; Listen not so your eyes upon me; lift them upwardsjmd then turn them in upon your own heart, for lh : dreadful reckoning is oe tween it and God ” Mary Simpson had now recovered all her strength, an ! she knell dawn by the side of the groaner. h op was the ;>ity she now felt for him, whom to her had shown no nity; she did not refuse to Jay her light arm tenderly upon his neck. Often had she prayed to God to save his sou!, even among her jruiful sobs of shame in the solitary glens; and now that she beheld his sin punished with a remorse more than he could bear, the- orphan would have willingly died, to avert from liis prostrate head the wrath of the Almighty The old man wept at the sight of so much in nocence, am! so much guilt, kneeling together before God. in strange union and fellowship of a common being With his own fatherly arms be lilted up the orphan from her knees, and s;ud, “Mary Simpson, my sweet and innocent Mary Simpson, for innocent thou art, the el ders will give thee a token, that will on Sabba h .day, admit thee (not tor the first time,though so young.) to the communion table Fear not to approach it; look at me, and on my face, when 1 bless the elements, and be thou strong in the *trength of the Lord Norman Adams, re turn to jour home. Go into the chamber where vour father died. Let your knees wear out Jjie part of the floor on which he kneeled. It is somewhat worn you seen the mark of your father’s knees. Who knows, but that pardon and peace may descend from Hea ven even upon such a sinner ss thou. On none such as thou have mine eyes looked, in knowl edge, among all those who have lived and died under my care, for three generations lt iv t great is the Unknown guilt that may be hidden even in the church yard of a small quiet parsen age like this! Dost thou feel as if God forsaken? Or, Oh ! say it unto me, canst thou, my son, dare to hope for repentance I” The pitiful tone of the old man’s trembling voice, and the motion of his shaking and w'th ered hands, as he lifted them up almost in at titude of benediction, completed the prostra tion of that sinner’s spirit All his betier na ture, which had too long been oppressed under scorn of holy ordinance and the coldness 1 of infi delity. and the selfishness of lawless designs that insensibly harden the heart they do not dissolve, now struggled to rise up and res vert its right. “YVhen I remember what I once was, I can hope—when I think what I now am, I only, only fear.’’ A storm of wind and rain had come on, ar.d Mary Simpson slept in the mause that night. On the ensuing Sabbath she parto- k of the sacra ment.. A woful illnesfell upon Norman A lains; and then for a long time no one saw him, or knew ; where lie had gone It was said that he was in , a distant city* and thkt'he was a miserable crea ture, that never again could look nponthe sun. • But it was otherwise ordered. He returned to t his farm, greatly changed in face and person, but i even yet more changed in spirit. The old minister had more days allotted to 1 him than he had tl r ught. and was not taken a • way for some summers- Before lie died, he had reason to know that Norman Adams had repent ed tn tears of blood, In thoughtsef faith.- and in deeds of charity; and he did not fear to admit him, too, in good time, to the holy ordinance, along with Alary Simpson, then his wife, and a-e mo ther of his children. [From the Baltimore Ftdcral Republican.] “ Free Press and Printers’ High Is .” The following letter, upon a public sub ject, received from a public officer with whom we have never had the pleasure oi a private acquaintance, must have been meant for publication, ami therefore we give it, that he may appear in his piopei person V ASHLYGTQX, July 19, 1822. * Sir — ln. your paprr of lh<e‘e7t’i > I notice an'inti” motion of your iHUn.ion to take the conduct of Mr- Fluke and inysej in luinil nip the opinion that “ you shad le able to shew that they laid law and justice puist ate” I think it necessary, there Jure, to inform you that tins tijniiii.n /ms been for med without a full knowledge rj the prwee’ ding; und testimony had id the case uj -dr. Finney; and tiuit ifyau take ipou yourselfto publicly dis cuss the matter oil ex parte testimony, you v id do it at yonc own its';, and -will of course, pie pared to meet the consequence ,- for / /dace to high u value on public opinion, to uUo w my cnru acter to be tampered with with unpun ty. If the prtps has its liberties, individuals aggiieved by it have a‘so the means of obtaining redress secured to them When the official trial of Lieutenant Abbott shall issue from the press, which will he in about a week / and when ail the documents hud in the examination of Air iUnitefs conduct shall he befote the public, which will, as 1 am informed soon be the ease I can then have no objection to a just criticism of my agency in these matters— for IJ'cela conviction, that the pub ic will not on ly Justify die opinion oj Air Stake end inysef but bear me ofit in the belii f that both Ale Fin ney and cap-. Hull have been wickedly and mali ciously pe, secured. and w'Ai pronounce that the sentence of.the Court -Martialon Lieutenant Abbot was mild considjiing the magnitude and aggrava tion „f the offences proved against that officer, lam, Air very respectfully, * l ow obedient seivanl, j) Fu nr eh. Fred'k Schaeffer, esq Fallimo e. We stood in no need of any admonition of the gallant captain, a to onr rights in exercise of a free and independent press, •nor of its conellative responsibility. We know to a tittle all Ihc lawful risks to which it is subject, and it is not in hi power, if he cho-ai, to add to them, such a. they a*e. We do not understand him as wishing to scatter threaps of an extian on-, kind ; had >uch been trie meaning of his words, they would have, been utterly dis regarded. As one of the servants oflhe people, we have a rig’.t to scrutinize his acts, and will not betray our duty, so foi as to flinch from it. With liis private character we have nothing to do ; but his public character so publice property j a!id w;th respect In either, he ought to be aware of the maxim of life, that it ;; man, pavticu iarlv in ao elevated station, takes pioper care of his conduct, no “tampering” can injure his character It is not For him Jo presm ibe to us, when and how wa shall he permitted t<niisrbss public affairs, even when they ivlate to him self. As to thegrnuuds which are now be fore the public, upon which to judge of the merits of this business, it does not lie in the mouth of capt. Porter, above all men, to call them ex parte. In Abbot’s busi ness he was at o ice the accuser the officer making the arrest, the witness, and the zealous overweening agent of the prosecu tion, who attended the trial, objected to testimony, and .examined the witnesses.--*- Can he, after all this, be permitted, with tho shadow of propriety, to call the. pro ceedings ex parte Then, as to their authentication ; they coutefo us with the atfesiation of Mr. VY aido, one of the most respectable counsellors of- Boston, who places his namo in tiie title page.—"liis correctness and impartiality have not been dispu'ed. But it seems t’lat we are requir ed to wait for the official publication, which is to appear hereafter. This we can not submit to. We are not bound to make up our judgment upon any official rule*, sug gestions or drafts, where other sufficient evidence exists; much less fiom those, emanating from military sources. It is out yet come to this. God forbid it ever should !—Bt Ldes our confidence is not in a state to yield itself explicity to official doing* or outgoings. We acknowledge, that recent events have materially dimin ished the rescect, which we could before have entertdf ied for them. With retgard to the documents, which he informs us, are expected to be published by somebody, we know not whom, and when we are not told, respecting something about the ex culpation of the :iiavy agent Binney, it is very odd, that we should be interdicted, till all the uncertainties respecting them^’hall be cleared up, or that when they appdfc, it should be expected that we swallow them down. The good captain here appears to have forgot his doctrine of ex-parte proofi n'he can judge any thing about their na- : ture, they must possess an ex parte char acter of the rankest sort. The witnesses against Binney were examined upon oath, but the explanations he gave as we are iuformed by Abbott were without oath, from which he was carefully and repeatedly excluded. Yet these are the lights, under whose glare, Binney was pro nounced guiltles, and which most probably are those, by which we are expected to be dazzled. We will wait for no such docu ments, If material, they ought to have been long ago produced. They may not come at all, for they are not even prom ised, If they should appear, and they should perad vrotargintoTve any cor, “ of our reflections, they shall’ h;*e i ’ weight ami be properly noticed. We had here been admonished he-.ii crowd of our paper, to suspend for a* ."-’J venient opportunity of non, some of] remarks, going nearer to the feelb aS J interest of the sensitive captain, r„* v.a J the above ’e merely, when we wr, P , j pelled to forego our intention, and tJ io the irrepressible laughter, wi.icii'jj communication in the National IntefliuJ cer of jCUcnlay compelled, it ] ihus : To the Editors < f the Mutlonel Intel l Gentlemen—.l itgu and for my chanct-r J public officer, ana a desire to wm m thou; - ; / h | uujuoty assail it of the difficulties m Wri-,! ■ I nlug he likely t% inv-dvf themselves indue.?! 1 request you to givepnbhtiiy io the enclosal I Very re pec fully, your obedient *’ I , F. Oil l ’1 licsikiij, July 30, 1822. | Washington, 30th .Tub,, Sir-In-your paper rfyesleuly, 7,.; c „ c 'j publication of a article taken, f ~m lie p J Republican of t <r'27iti, / tlertfme deem it uM to enclose to you a copy of a inter me to the editor of that paps r etui to that the ilehr, dilution l have taken, with rr i,J him. extends to ervi y .editor who mao as sail my character, bom whnte'cr attack iay originate. I am, *ir, your most o'edu ut servant, | i> Fomim Jonathan Eli U, Esq. ■ Editor of the H'asfdngton Gaz- >!■•, I Pennsylvania Aveiatf, U'usU.-gt m a What man. who thought biased’ mtulil nerable, cvti before published an uw- J anticipated tin eat against those wnnmifl he disposed to examine his conduct? certainly shall not pe rail eu, selves to| thus dialled up a- the precedent fur inti! datum. Why! gout! ir, -we mean?, J still mean to strip and examine you in - I proceeding* in die business of tiie Charil ton Navy Ya’d from head to foot, anil I dibit all your blemishes that we f“iJ, fail fully to the people, of whom you are!, I iog but a servant trusted with ,i /iff/cfol authority, aod who are already m, J formed about your conduct titan to be aware of, judging from foe impel fem e of the tone you nave assumed. tire rejoiced, that we, and our unonla.fl brother editois t fall parties, are .Uut joct to your court luctriia!* orcmr.mfoiß er-like process. YY e cannot,. pautonH help our heart ovpi flowing on this ccfl sion, with a sense of ihe blessing am! city of the civil tribunals, a-, distinguish from what has been experienced iVontl others. ■ We must outbreak the thread inthisl cidental manner,of what vveha’etiiH when fvc shall have more space. ■ therefore part to meet again at WltM YVeare willing to walk into court you any day, that you chouse to meetuH answer for what we may do vou unjiß If you mean any thing extra j ml.ciaiß which we do not accuse you, ami riuV our charity ah-o.'vcs-yuu; be jde-fcfl change our impiession. 3m LEAH MINES. St. Louis, (Missouri,) June 29.1 From the (fpperJlississipi. i Mr. Forsyth, of tiie Indian l>c|>ai't(J arrived in town a few dajs sii-ce froiil Lead Mines on La Feivre. Hestltesl the Indians, paiticulaily the Faxes, J many objections to Colonel Johnson’*! to waik the mines, urging that they I Sauks and Foxes) never sold tiie larnl the east side of the Mississippi /lig'iel tl.ao the mouth of flock River, dfo. I from tie imposing force of the whites! were present at flu* Cfousril, and tliei talks made by die Agents and Col. 1 gun, the Indians signified an apparexifl quiescence, and the conference ctael mutual professions of I mines were accordingly occupied, (I part, however, as Col. Johnston th”l proper to select) and after an exprriJ hr two, tiie mineral was found to equa® high expeefions previously entertaic® it“ excellent quality- Mr. F. stales that a destructive “'.•I ist at this time among the Sfouks arid I es, and the Sious Indians of the inreii® The Sauks and Foxes had taken tlwl to the numberjifabout6oo men,and® party of those Indians had retained to® village, at the head of the Rapids ottfl .Ylmne, on the 17th inst. bringing wi-’hß twenty scalps and 14 children a* prisiH taken from the Sioux. The Faek-B Foxes last one man on the field of™ and brought home 6 or 7 wounded, ol whom is since dead. i Whether horrid Piracy. —( , :phF ; B the schr. Olive, arrived a* this p" r: '■ the Bahamas, informs, that about the■ die of June, the vvreakers had fillefrii® a ship ashore to windward of RumH THE CREYV OF WHICH HAD I CUT TO PIECES, AND YVF.KKF’I HANGING IN THE RIGGING! ■ wreckers had also picked up a bri? 9 B near the same place, entirely dese ; B supposed to have Wien robbed by rales. The next gang of pirates wi l * be condemned to be executed in thftß try for their fiend-like cruelties. sume will be pardoned.— Com. Just Received 1 Per ship Gen. Caning ton, from A* Em 1000 lbs sup. Smoked Beef I Fresh Goshen Butter very good ® His and half bis superfine Flour I Lorririvd’s Tobacco, American SegxrsH Also, 2 cases white Homespuns .1 With a general assortment of Grocer:* sale on accommodating terms by . ■ I 6 A. A J CHAM * South side Market J ’ eug 6 e 69 J