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WEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE;
D.. COTTING, Editor.
No. 50.—NEW SERIES.]
NEWS & PLANTERS’ GAZETTE
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January, 1842. 28
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May 5,1842. 1 3i>
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- July 21,1842. 47
FOUR months after date application will be
made to the Honorable tlxe Inferior Court
of Wilkes county, while sitting as a Court of
Ordinary, for leave to sell a Negro woman by the
name of Mary and the personal property belong
ing to the Estate of William Poss, deceased.
FELIX SHANK, Ex’r.
July 7, 1842. m4m 45
MY FIRST DUEL.
BY MORDECAI MANASSEII NOAH.
From ’ 1 the Union.”
I called a few days ago to see my old
friend Colonel Webb, who I learnt had ar
rived at his residence in Waverly Place,
from his late excursion to the Brandywine.
He looked well, quite well—his whiskers
were as largo and fierce ns ever, with here
and there a few supernumerary white hairs,
and his spirits ifany thing were more buoy
ant and clastic, as he had accomplished a
certain specific and desirable object by the
issue of the recent meeting. Over the el
bow of his capacious arm chair reposed a
pair of significant crutlics. I thought of
Sir John Falstaff—
“ There’s honor for you.”
We talked over the adventure in detail,
with congratulations that it was not worse
in its results, as it certainly might have
been, if the apostle of temperance and the
Colonel had both been the crack shots they
were said to he in the shooting galleries.—
Duelling at the present day has fallen into
disrepute ; it never did settle any point of
honor, and sensible men discard it as incom
patible with the spirit of the ago ; yet pe
culiar circumstances, as in the case of
Webb and Marshall, drive men to such
hostile meetings, and it would be fortunate
to all parties concerned, if the issue was
equally favorable. It is much more agree
able to shake a man firmly by the hand,
than to attend his funeral ; and as to post
humos praises ofcourage,coolness,gallant
ry, &c. in such affairs, what are they
worth? who boast of such honors? as Sliak
speare says,
“lie that died lost Wednesday.”
It is said, that the apostle of temperance
is not satisfied with ‘he result of the duel ;
he thinks that Webb ought to have been
killed, and he is desirous of having another
shot at him. If Mr. Marshall is so fond of
fighting, he can place himself at the head
of the Atlghanistans in th<iCabool country,
or serve as aid to Cliing Ling of
I’ekin, and ho will have fighting enough for
the appetite of any moderate man; lint Col.
Webb ought to be permitted hereafter to
eat his woodcock and toast in peace; though
wounded he enjoys the best position of the
two, aud he should not part with it to jeop
ardise it by another meeting. As Hoyle
would say he has all the honors, hut has
lost the odd trick. Talking of duelling, I
have always been satisfied that it is moral,
and not physical courage which is the ac
tive agent in such matters, and sustains a
man in such trying positions, and this was
made manifest and strongly impressed upon
my mind by my first duel. When a very
young matt, and in high party times, l-found !
myself taking .the lead in the Democratic'j
ranks in Charleston. South Carolina. Ini •
pressed with the belief that a difference of j
political opinion, though warmly expres.-1 i I
and firmly carried out, did not necossarl ,
impair tiiat good personal feeling and inter
course which should exist between citizen
and citizen, I was in hopes to make eon
verts and put down opponents, in the most
pacific manner ; but l soon discovered mv
error, and was given distinctly to under
stand, that he who ventures to bring about
important political revolutions in that sec
tion of the Union, must be prepared to fight
his way in the world; he who is ambitious
to become a political leader, must exhibit
something more substantial than mere ora
tory.
lie who would influence and control a
party, must sustain his doctrines by meet
ing his opponents in the wav that gentlemen
settle such differences; lie must under
stand and bo understood. This I presum
ed, was what is called Southern chivalry;
it was all new and most extraordinary to
ir.c, who came from a pacific quarter of the
Union, and felt no disposition at all to car
ry my political plans and objects into ope
ration at the mouth of the pistol. Hut so it
was. Being in Rome, I had to do what
Romans did. So having offended a young
sprig of Federalism, by venturing respect
fully to differ with him in relation to the
war with England at a great public meet
ing, he gave mo notice that he should call
me out. I felt no apprehension on the sub
ject, convinced that explanations could
readily be made, which would not fail to
prove entirely satisfactorily with reasona
ble men. So I proceeded to the City Li
brary, and while enjoying a very agreeable
book in a cool mid sequestered part of the
ample saloon, an handsome young gentle
man of engaging appearance and address
came tip tome, and after two or three for
mal, yet graceful hows, placed in my hand
a neatly folded note, written on vellum pa
per. The note introduced me to Major
Hamilton, since Gen. Hamilton and Gov
ernor of the State, by the gentlemen who I
had most unfortunately offended, by differ
ing with him at the public meeting, and in
formed me at the same time, that Major
Hamilton would make the necessary ar
rangements for the meeting, &c. On read
ing the note I arose and made several pro
found bows to the gentleman, fining that
this was a busines of very serious impor
tance. We took our scats near each other,
talked of the weather, of war, palmetto
forts, rice birds, cotton crops, and several
agreeable subjects, for I was very happy to
make his acquaintance, until the Major in
the most polite manner imaginable, remind
ed me of the delicate object of his mission,
and the necessity of a reply to the note he
had just delivered. Novice ns I was in
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
WASHINGTON, (WILKES COUNTY, GA.,) AUGUST 11, 1842.
such matters, I was still aware that eti
quette required a prompt reply, and I as
sured him, that he should receive an an
swer at an early hour. I forthwith called
the leaders of our party together, to consult
and determine what was to be done in the
premises. They were unanimously of
opinion that I must fight; there was no a
voiding the responsibility ; the honor of the
democratic party required that 1 should
fight; it was the usage of the country, end
no leader of a party of such high and patri
otic pretensions, could evade an invitation
in which the dignity of the party was so vi
tally concerned. As this was, therefore, a
bona fide point of honor, upon the result of
which it was impossible to foresee what
might be the destinies of our country, it was
resolved that I should give hint a meeting,
and a high public functionary of great
courage and discretion, was fixed upon as
my second ; and I answered the note in the
most polite manner imaginable accepting
the invitation, anil leaving the prelimina
ries to be settled by the plenipotentiaries j
and high contracting parties. Early in the •
afternoon a carriage drove to the door, con- i
taining two of my particular friends, with
a request to take a ride. Supposing it was
intended to talk over matters, and arrange
for contingencies, the weather being ex
ceedingly pleasant, I sprang in, and away
we went as fast as two spankling greys
could carry us. In the bottom of the car
riage a case of pistols lay very comforta
bly, and my friends informed me that we
were going out of town to fire at a mark,
‘supposing that I was rather out of practice,
which was really the fact, never having, to
my recollection, fired a pistol in tiiecour.sc
of my life. We alighted in the centre of a
field, and a card was pinned to a tree, and
the pistols loaded, and placed in my hand
at a distance of ten paces. Nothing daunt
ed, I raised my pistol cautiously and firm
ly and hit the card. “Bravo—capital—
try again,” said my friends ; and I went
on firing and hitting the mark, with all im
aginable coolness, iterum alque iterum. — j
“You arc a first rate shot,” said one.— i
“Poor devil, lie will be killed,” said the o- j
thcr, “there is no escape for him.” “No i
standing such shots.” “Pray,” said Ito I
my friends, “what kind of a person is this [
who lam to meet 1” “Avery clever tel- j
low, of great promise, a gentleman of for
tune, and character, of a large and ancient ;
family, highly esteemed and respected.” !
“And I atn to kill him,” said I to myself! j
Good heavens! a man who never wronged i
mo, and to whom of course I entertained
no ill will ; “but the. honor of my party was
implicated, and he must die.” I could
not reconcile myself to tlie morality or the
philosophy of this issue, but I was in tlie
hands of my parly, and of right honorable
men s’ friends, and it was my duty I sup
posed to'submit. Tito city was alive with
the projected duel—we were both tiie lions
of the day I had not tlie honor of knowing
my broil;.-r lion, who I was to kill Ihe next
• lay; 1 was quite sure that I had no ill will
awards him, and if tlie honor of our respec
tive parties had not been a question at is
sue, i felt confident that we both could have
adjusted the difficulty over a bottle of south
side Madeira, in most pacific manner im
aginable. The Police, with a strict eye to
their duty, took special care to inform ail
tlie sporting characters that the affair was
to come off - at the race course at four o’-
clock, and ail tlie gigs in town wore enga
ged to witness the exhibition. Tlie ladies
sighed, and thought it a pity .for two such
nice young fellows to run tlie risk of killing
each other, but finally they entered into the
spirit of the contest, and both of us stood a
chance of representing tlie dying Gladiators
for the amusement of tiie audience in the
Colliseum. Just at tlie very nick of time,
when tiie period of negotiation bad been
nearly exhausted, my friend E. S. Thomas,
then Editor of tlie City Gazette, believing
that no good political results were to grow
out of this duel, at a moment of great polit
ical excitement, and when the country at
war with a great power, required union,
concert in action, and friendly feelings a
mong citizens, called early in the morning,
on Keating Lewis Simmons, Esquire, then
at the head of the Federal party, and sub
mitted various considerations ‘why this hos
tile meeting was uncalled for, and tiie po
litical as well as personal consequences
. which might grow out of it; and it was fi
nally arranged to call tlie high contracting
powers together in Council,, and ascertain
what could be done in the premises. After
a meeting, and a deliberation of four hours,
it was finally agreed that there should be
no meeting—that mutual explanations
should he made, and the affair was honor
ably arranged, according to the most ap
proved principles of duelling, and the most
popular requirements of etiquette. I was
entirely satisfied with the issue, having no
desire to kill my antagonist, who, by tlie
way, was a very worthy person by the name
ofToomcr, since dead; nor had I any wish
to be killed myself; but the dear public, it
seems, was not so well satisfied with tlie
result—there was to be no fight after all.
Pornpey had harnessed the bays in the bug
gy—whips, spurs, and trotting horses were
all ready for the race course, to see two
promising young fellows shoot each oilier,
and so tiie affair is Settled—the pistols are
returned to the case —and the Doctor was
not called upon to prepare lint, probe stick,
and plaster. This humanedisappointment,
however, was coupled with strong suspic
ions pretty loudly’ expressed, that I, like all
vaporing democrats, would rather eat than
fight. This unworthy insinuation, which
aroused my indignation, did not allay the
political fever, and in a few days afterwards
I got into u newspaper controversy with a
gentleman, I believe, by the name of Crafts,
and I received another little billet-doux to
meet him at the Race Course. To use a
familiar phrase of a knight.of the Race
Course and Thimble Rig, I really did not
know how to head off this invitation, when
my antagonist fell sick, and the affair, like
tlie other, was honorably adjusted. Let it
lie distinctly understood, gentle reader, that
in these challenges to bloody conflicts,
there was really in truth and in fact not the
least cause or ground for a hostile meeting.
It was the fashion of that, day to adjust all !
such disputes'at the muzzle of the pistol.—
Public opinion since that time, together j
with the provisions ofthc law, have frowned ;
.uponthese sunguinary exhibitions, and now
reason,good sense and good principles, have I
erected barriers against duelling, which, ]
excepting on extraordinary occasions, are \
sufficiently powerful against such out- ;
breaks. Still, there was a lurking suspi- ,
cion in the public mind that 1 would no! ;
fight. That I had not the inclination or de
sire to shoot or he shot, was an undoubled j
fact, but that under any circumstances I
would not fight at all was hot true. With
out being what was constitutionally called
brave, and never willingly rushing into
danger, without, in tiie most distant man
ner, being either a luilly or a braggadocia,
I, nevertheless, felt that I had moral cour
age enough to resent a positive insult, arid j
was ready, in a good cause, to submit to !
what society considered an honorable mode j
of redressing an injury—still I labored un- j
der suspicion until at lengtii a person, who j
was not a politician, was determined to as- ■
certain \V hot her there was good and suffi- j
cient grounds for this opinion, and picking !
a small quarrel with me, or upon some tri- j
fling cause, he sent me a challenge to meet j
him, coupled with the very cheering intel- j
ligence (hat ho would neither accept ex- j
planatiotj nor apology. So, here was a
challenge of the most positive character—j
t here was no evading it under existing cir- 1
cumstances—the challenger was a person j
of no consequence, still lie was of a good 1
family and possessed a good character.— !
AH those who wanted a fight, assured me j
iie was a gentleman, although ! wished
from the bottom of my heart that nature
and habit it ail made him a loafer of the first
water ; neither the cause nor the man were
of sufficient importance for the risk; no
political cciaf. could possibly’ arise from !
such a meeting, still there was no getting j
rid of it, and I accepted tlie invitation.
-Tlie dear public was all agog again ; i
there was to be a fight after all. My friends,
who had hitherto stood sponsors-for my
bravely, surrounded me with unabated con
fidence. My opponents sneered and prog- i
nostieated that I should yet “ creep out of
it.” I felt cool anil determined ; i would j
submit to no insinuations of such character, j
and made ail the accessary preparations. J
I was rather indifferent lo tlie result. 1 had
no property to leave, no will to make, no
family to provide for ; I might be cut off, it
is true, at an early period, and full of pro
mise, but it was not of my seeking. Come
what come may, this meeting was to take
place. My friend Gov. Gcddes lent me his i
carriage and horses, and a case offino hair j
triggers. My’ surgeon was engaged, and j
the whole city was on the qui vice for the
duel. I slept that night at the house,of a :
friend, and several acquaintances had as- 1
sembfed there to set up with me, talk over !
the matter, and make arrangements for tiie j
morning. Sitting up with a person about
to fight a duel is something like sitting up •
with a dead man ; all was serious, solemn j
and grave ; no witticisms, no attempt to j
keep up fictitious spirits. They all talked 1
as if some important event was on the tapis.
I threw myself on the bed to take a short
repose, and fell into a perturbed sleep. I
was restless and uneasy ; tossed to and fro;
hideous dreams and spectres floated in my
imagination ; I was awoke by hearing tlie
servant below grinding coffee. My friends
were whispering together in the alcove. I
felt wretched—my lips were parched, and
my head feverish and confused ; i arose at
dawn and look a cup of strong coffee, and
all things being ready, we got into tlie car
riage and set oil’for the field of honor ! It
was a beautiful morning—tlie air was pure
arid balsamic—the eastern sky was streak
ed with orange tints, and the mist was fad
ing from the hill—tlie birds were singing,
and tiie tall pines were wavering gently in
the morning breeze—the world never look
ed more beautiful.
“The morn in russet mantle clad
Walked o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.”
Ehakspeare.
And I was probably about jo quit this world
so fresh and gav and beauteous—in the sea
son of youth, with every bright and encour
aging prospect before me, not by fell dis
case or decay of nature, or sudden visita
tion of Providence, but a victim to what was
called honor. I was either to kill a man
who had never wronged me, or meet my
death at his hands without having over
wronged him. What madness, folly, and
infatuation ! yet tyrant custom had stamp
ed the impress of chivalry upon such ap
peals, and they could not be evaded. I
puffed from me several heavy sighs as these
and similar thoughls passed through my
mind. I felt no fear—l felt sorry for my
self —I felt the same regret that l should
have felt for another person in my situation.
The carriage drove on rapidly, and my
friends regarded me with an interest that
v. as quite painful, and I wished the affair
was over. At length we reached the ap
pointed spot; it was a beautiful valley on
| a fine level piece of ground, in the neigit
-1 borhood of two or three cottages; every
| thing looked green, fresh, and beautiful.
I On alighting from the carriage I found a
j l' ir ge party of gentlemen present; some
1 had arrived in gigs, and some on horseback,
i ai| d some pedestrians, together with a few
j colored gentlemen, and many miscellane
ous persons, drawn from the neighboring
cottages, having understood that something
of importance was going on. In a few min
: utes my antagonist and his friends made
their appearance, and the necessary prepa
! rations commenced. As I was the dial
; lenged person I had the choice of weapons,
j distance, and position. I chose ten paces ;
| the parties to stand hack to back at that dis
j tanco, anil wheel and fire at the word. 1
I chose tiiis mode for several reasons—it was
J in consonance with tli<s rules of honor, which
j did not necessarily claim a victim by a di
rcet and deadly aim ; it also gave a chance
i for botii or either to escape, besides I did
! not wish to incur the stern gaze of mv an
tagonist; a deadly scowl, tossing off the
j hat, and some melo-dramatic action for es
| feet, to throw me off my guard or shake my
1 nerves, as Marshall tried in the case of
Webb. Not seeing my man until brought
face to face by the word fire, and the sud
den wheeling gave no advantage to either,
and was deemed by all, considering the :
slight cause of offence, as proper and expe- <
dient. One of my seconds stepped over the
ground—lie had short legs, and I imagined ■
that ten paces had actually dwindled to six.
Wo took our stand back Jo back, I looked i
round and found that my man was not on a ;
direct line with me, and I moved a step to
the right to bring him on a level. All i
things were ready—the spectators looked j
on silently and anxiously—the question was j
asked “ Gentlemen, are you ready ?” We j
both answered with a clear, strong voice, [
ready. “ Wheel and fire.” At the word,
1 wheeled with an action ami position which
would have done no discredit to Hamlet on
seeing his father's ghost ; both pistols went j
off simultaneously. In wheeling 1 had a
broad front view of m.y man, before touch
ing the hair trigger : 1 looked at him—saw j
him reel and fall. I was transfixed to the j
spot —I lost all sense of my own danger— !
1 had hilled liha ! The blood of the first!
Cain was on my head. I awoke to a sense j
of my own condition, my knees smote to- |
gather, and I shuddered with horror. There |
was considerable bustle and running among j
the spectators, who had crowded round the j
fallen man. 1 walked towards him ; ho lay j
on bis back, with his eyes open ; and to my i
great joy and satisfaction I heard hint say, i
“ I'll have another shot.” He was only J
wounded ; the ball lmd entered below the
knee, and penetrated through the calf of j
the left ieg, which was bleeding copiously. 1
I breathed freely, I was not only uninjured
myself, but I had not killed my antagonist.
As he could not stand to take another shot, j
Ihe affair was considered as honorably end- j
ed. My surgeon cxtiactcd the ball, and
bound up the wound ; i loaned my carriage
to the injured man; and my conduct was j
pronounced superfine throughout. All !
doubts of my courage had vanished; friends j
and foes'shook hands with me ; the police- !
officers who came to sec, not prevent the j
fight, mounted their nag?; the carriages, i
chaises, gigs, and buggys, began to move j
from the field ; and thus ended the whole
humbug, as it really was, and with it my i
first duel. I had no more challenges after |
that affair ; and I presume no one will j
challenge my friend Webb, in order to test j
his courage, after liis late encounter with i
the apostle of temperance. Had Marshall j
killed Webb, I have no doubt he would have i
taken to the bottle again, in order to drown i
his grief for so uncalled for a sacrifice.
“ Thus conscience makes cowards of tis all.” j
As,to duelling, lam satisfied that while
it really settles no principle, very seldom
redresses a wrong or preserves the injured, j
that it rarely or ever involves personal i
courage. Nine’out of ten who behave well
in the field, are sustained by moral cour- j
age—the apprehension of the world’s opin- j
ion—the sneers of the base—the doubts of j
the unwelcome—the distrust and suspicion ;
of your enemies. The practice, were it
not for folly, rashness and hot blood in Con- !
gress, would fall into general disrepute as !
it should fail a monument of folly and false
honor.
SCIENTIFIC.
A fact of great interest lias been proved,
by the borings for Artesian wells in the su
burbs of Paris, viz: that as we go towards
the centre of the oarlh, the temperature in
creases, at the rate of about one degree for
every fifty feet. That the whole interior
portion of the earth, or at least a great part
of it, is an ingenious ocean of melted rock,
agitated by violent winds, though I dare not
affirm it, is still rendered highly probable,
by the phenomenon of volcanoes. The facts
connected with their eruptions have been
ascertained, and placed beyond dispute.—
How then, are they to be accounted for ?
The theory, prevalant some years since,
that they are caused by combustion of im
mense coal beds, is perfectly puerile, and
is entirely abandoned. All the world
would never afford fuel enough for a singu
lar exhibition of Vesuvius. We must look
then to this ; and I have no doubt that the
whole, rests on the action of electric and
galvanic principles, which are constantly
in operation in the earth. We know that
J when certain metals are brought together,
powerful electric action is involved, and a
light is produced, superior even in efful
gence, to the splendor of the sun. Now, if
a small arrangement produces such results,
what may we not expect from the combrna
tions of those immense beds of meta's. to bo
ML .F. KirPfiL, Printer.
| found in the earth ? Here we have a key
to all the grand phenomena of volcanic ac
j lion. Illustration, on a small scale, may
j be seen in an instrument called by some the
electrical battery, made of zinc, bismuth,
and antimony, packed in a box and varnish
ed. In this, heat is evolved below’, while
the top is cold; and here we have the very
case of the volcano, when in the interior, a
fiery ocean is heaving its surges, while its
peak is capped with everlasting snows. —
Professor Silliman. m
ROBBERS, ROMANCE AND A
GREAT CAVE.
The following singular history is front
tlie Louisville City Gazette: We have iaic
j iv conversed with a gentleman from Ken
tucky, who informed us that about fifteen
miles from the vicinity of Licking rivsr,
; Ky., on tiie land of Mr. Mosier, an extraor
dinary cave and home of robbers have been
discovered, under the following circum
stances: ‘The neighborhood had been in
fested for some time by men of a suspicious
character, who had been seen prowling
about without any one being acquainted
witli them or their location. Some time a
! bout tlie Ist of January last, it was resolv
|ed by the people of the neighborhood to
! watch every character of tlie kind, and as
certain if possible, iheir place of rendez
: vous, as it was generally believed it must
Ibe somewhere in tiio.se parts. For a num.
i her of weeks a sharp look-out was kept, but
nothing discovered. Toward the latter
part of February, as one of tlie men was
traversing the country bordering on the
hills, and something over a mile from tiie
farms, he observed a matt upon a bank of
broken rocks, not a hundred yards distant,
disappear as if fearing discovery. Not
wishing to lose the opportunity of securing
the inhabitants of this lonesome place, lie
hurried back lo the settlement, and muster
ing a force, made for the spot where he was
sure of securing one, at least, of the mid
night marauders. On arriving, he pointed
I out as near as possible the- place, and they
j rushed forward, when, to their astonishment
j there was no aperture in tlie ledge of rocks
observable, nor signs of mail or beast.—
i Feeling chagrined at their disappointment,
I they sat down to consider on their course
—all but tiie one who had been tile cause
of their trouble, whose restless eye turned
in every direction. The company consist
ed of Mr. Mosier, and two sons, James Bald
rick, the one who first discovered the rob
ber, and Mr. Pomroy, a teacher from Cov
ington, who happened to be in tlie neighbor
hood on a visit.
Baidrick went back to the tree where he
first stood on discovering the man, and pla
ced one of the company where lie saw the
person, and came up to the spot. In a mo
ment he discovered-signs of the displace
ment of the rooks in a cleft below, and the
company coming up. they soon removed
some loose stones, where an entrance was
discovered into the side of the mountain !
Summoning up ail their courage, and re
printing their fire-locks, they proceeded to
advance into the entrance, at first quite
small, hut gradually growing larger as
they advanced. Having no light at hand,
and the passage being dark, they returned
to the mouth, and preparing a torch, again
ventured in. They soon found that they
had discovered the hiding place of the vil
lians, who have probably for years past
committed depredations upon their citizens,
and the various places in mad around Cin
cinnati, and escaped punishment by hiding
j here ! Firecoals were still burning in a
| part of the cave, and various utensils for
j the lodgement of half a dozen persons were
j strewed around, with ruanv goods, food,
I books, clothing, Ac.
| The cave is about the size of a common
j house, dry, except one corner, where the
j water was dropping from tiie roof over a
j siielfin the rock, and lias formed a beauti
! ful quartz : specimens of which Mr. Pont
! roy lias in his possession.
CYCLE OF THE SEASONS.
An Englishman by the name of Howard,
j lias kept a meteorological journal for 40
I years ; and has published, tiie result of his
! observations, through two complete cycles
of 18 years. The result shows a very
great general resemblance, between the
two periods. In each period there is a suc
cession of years above the average decree
of warmth, and a succession of years below
the average. Jn 18 years the moon, sun
and earlh come into the same relative posi
tion, where they were at the beginning of
the period. And tiie theory is, that the
temperature, moisture, and winds, &c., are
materially affected by the relativo position
of these bodies.
The Philadelphia Nortli American sug
gests a public subscription, to establish a
paper in Mr. Wise’s District, % a., where
there is none at present, while not more than
two-thirds .of the inhabitants can cither read
or write. This is a good idea : Chalk us
down a dollar.— N. Y. Tribune.
Put us down a dollar. Torch.
And us for the same amount. Pass round
the hat.— Logan Gazette.
Put down our nam- for one ream of pa
per. Come, brethren, show your charity.
— Eich/and Jeffersonian.
We go a keg of ink “ blind.” — Dollar
Weekly.
Welt “ see yon” that “Weekly,’ and
go you ten bits better, to help support a pub
lic reader.— —Montgomery Journal
We ll slick up to you, as far as an old
case of minion, ami a_i‘ew “ nigger cuts.”
i Our money’s out.— -Crbirnbux Epqturrr.
[VOLUME NXVIJ.