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JHE TIMES, • published every W ednesday morning, | KTHK ORAIt IT E BUILDING, vJoraer of Oglethorpe and Randolph streets, by ft. FOKSVTH, A M. 10I1>ST\, PROPRIETORS. Yl-JRMS—Three Dollars per annum, payable <Uuari i4y in advance,far new subscriptions. . too pap r will 6e discontinued while any arrearages is due, unless at the option of the proprietor, and FOUR hollars will in all cases be exacted wciiere payment is not made before the expiration ofthe subscription year. ADVEitTISEMENTS conspicuously inserted at One Dollar per one hmdred words,for the first insertion,and fifty cents for every subsequent continuance. All Advertisements, sent to us without Specify ing the number of insertions desired, will he con tinued until ordered out, and cbarged accordingly. Legal Advertisements published at the usual rates, and with strict attention to the requisitions of the law. Sheriff's Sales under regular executions, must be advertised for thirty days; under mortgage fi fas, sixty days before the day of sale. Salks of Land and Negroes, Uy Executors, Ad ministrators or Guaidiaus, for sixty days before the day of sale. Salks of personal property (except negroes) forty DAYS. , Citations by Clerks of Courts of Ordinary, upon application for letters of administration are lobe published for thirty days. Citations upon application for dismission, by Executors, Administrators or Guardians, month ly for six months. Orders of Courts of Ordinary, (accompanied with a copy of tho bond, or agreement) to make iito to land, must be published three months. .Notices by Executors or Administrators or Guard nans, of application to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell the Land or Negroes of an estate, * *©UR MONTHS. . . . al Notices by Executors or adinmist rators, to the Detrters and Creditors of un estate,for six WEEKS Letters to the proprietors on business, must fee p6SV ‘p aid, to entitle them to attention. j LAW NOTICES. C. S. Rockwell, ATTORNEY” AT LAW; Columbus, Ga. Office on Broad Street, o.ur Mr. LeGav's Jewel ry Store. April!, I*ls, Id—'f cone & Williams, attorneys at law. Columbus, Georgia. OFFICE in Hooper’s New Building; East side Broad street, ne.r the irtarkut. FRANCIS H CORE, I OHARLES I. WILLIAMS. $ j April 2, IS. I 4 — lf - Robert B, Lester 4 Attorney at law, , . Tazewell Marion County Ga. Rarebit 1845, 12—lv. VtillLui* Mizelli Attorney at law; Tazkwkll, Marion CoUNtr, Ga. March 5, 1815, 11—ty . . LAW NOTICE; ITAYINO associated ottrsolves togetliet in the U. practice of tho LAW tinder the name of STEINIjK. & RICHARDS, Vo will attend the several Courts m the Counties of Chambers, Russell, Macbn; Ta'lejlwsa & Randolph, and the Supreme Court of the State. Otfic. next door to the I’oU O.lice, LaFavette Ala. JOHN J. BTIiINKR, i EVAN G. RICHARDS. Feh. 2*1815. 9—Siit. Janies IYI. iflitckell, ATTORNEY A T L AW, Resilience —Diitupkiri, Georgia. WlljL devote his attention h ereafter, exclusive- Iv tp Hia profession, and will attend punctu ally to alf business entrusted to his cure, in any coun ty in die Chattahoochee dr douth-Weatern Circuits. Eeb S. 1815 6-ly j. s. mitchcii, ATTORNEY AT LAW. STARttsvltLE, LeE Cos. Ga. February “5,1815- 6—ly. Williitnt 11. martin, SdLIctTOR AND ATTORNEY AT Law. Office; In Girard, Alabama. Respectfully tenders his profcscionii serVibes iij the public generally ; he lakes this method of apprising his patrons, tnat he makes no . fcollcctions for less than ten per cent, on any sum Rot exceeding one thousand dollars, his reasons for this publication,is to g tt? gerieral notice to those who have already intrusted him li their business, with bttt special contract ; that ihey miiy wiihdraw the iamo If they prefer, and all future patrons if any, may expect to be governed by this noilce. WM. B. MARTIN. January 8, 1845 2—ly |c — LAW NOTICE. William B. Pryor HAS settled himself in the Town of LaGrnrige Troup courtly, Geoigia, and will practice la** m thb Comities of TrOrtp, Meriwether, Coweta, Campbell, Carrrtll and Heard, of the Coweta Circuit —and Harris, Miiscogoe dnd Talboi of the Chatta hoochee Circuit. Dec 18. 1844 51—ly Taylor & Gouckc, ATTORNEY’S AT LAW; CuTttBKRT, (Randolph countv,) Ga. Til E undersigned having nssocia cd tliemsnlvvs iu the practice of thLaw, will give their at tention to any business confided to them in the coun ties of Randolph, Early, Baker, Lea, Sumter, Dooly and Decatur in tho Soitthweslcrn, and Stewart of Ihe Chattahoochee circuits, Titov will a ; so attend the courts in Barbour and Henry counties in Alabama. WILLIAM TAYLOR. LEWIS A.GONEKE. November 13 1844. 46—ly. Recst! fit Dcnnard, ATTORNEYS AT LAW; Crawford Ala. •CHARLES s. Reese, 3 a. r. DIMUD. ) Sept. 18, 1844. 38— ly. E. 11. Platt, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ■ Albany, Baker County, Ga. Jan 1. 1845 I—if Burks A Stephenson, ATTORNEYS AT LAW; TALBOTTON, QA. AMCS M. BURKS, ) JAMES L. STEPHENSON ) tFob 28, 1844 9—ts COLQUITT & COOK, ATTORNEY’S AT LAW; LA GRANGE, GEORGIA. Will practice in the counties of Troup, Meriwether, Coweta, Fayette, and Carroll. Walter T. Colquitt, Columbus,Ga. grange. 84—tt DISSOLUTION, fMHB Law’’firm of IVERSOIL FORSYTH XL’ & MEIGS, is dissolved by ho retirement ql JJ.’ y. MEIGS, Esq'. The business of the office Will be continued by Alfred {verson, and John For pylh, under the style of IVERSON & FQRSYTU. JO* t. St F. have removed to th c new building Past side of Broad Street, near the Market. sd stairs, over IVs. Bratinaft’s Store. ” Noy 29, 1844. 4T—if Oc4Col a nud Alabainn Blanks for sale at this orrics. )£ Cfltttnbtts dimes’ FORSYTII & JOHNSTON, EDITORS.] JeeassKV FOR THE TIMES. “THE WORLD'S ILLUSIVE LIGHT.” Delusive Hope ! no more allure— Where now thy promised bliss ? True joy a home moie pure— A fairer clime than ibis ; The flowers that bloom at opening day, Arraved in colors bright, Are fading—but more fleet than they “ Tne World’s illusive light.” The IVorld ! alas ! its faithless smile, Is like the trembling ray. That cheers the traveller, the while. It leads him far astrav. We gaze Upon the hue that blends, With evenings tranquil sky, Unconscious with the joy it lends, That darkness dreweth nigh. We live, but in a worlJ of dreams, — Os visions, false and fair,— What for a moment substance seems, The next —is empty air ! M k We smile at thought of coming joy 6, But soon are doom'd to find The fancied pleasures, like the toys, That first deceived the mind. But though the world is dark and dreary, There is one ray to bless, Whose steady lusire shines to cheer, Earth’s utter loneliness, tl shines afar—yet brightly burns, . Like Hesperus at even, Bill man too oft its glory spurns, And scorns —the hope of Heaven. juvenllls pof.Ta. Emory College, Ga. April Bth, 1845. NOT ON THE B ATTLE FIELES. BY JOH* PIERPONT. ” lo fight on ihc bailie field for my dear coun try —that would not be hard.” Tub Nkighlorj. O no. me lie Not on a field of battle, when t die ! Let not the iron tread Ofthe mad war-horse crush my helmed head . Nor let the reeking knife, That l have drawn against a brother's lifo, Be in my lißv.d when death Thunders along, and tramples ine beneath His heavy squad ton’s heels, Or gory felloos of Ins cannon's wheels. From such a dying bed, Tho&gh o’er il float the stripes of white and red, And the, bald eagle brings Tho clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings, To sparkle in my sight, O, never let my spirit take her flight! I know that beauty’s eye la all the brighter where gay pennants fly, And brazen helmets dance, And sunshine flashes on the lifted lnrtco ; I know that bards have qnqg And people shouted till the welkin rung In honor of the brave Who on the battle-field have found a grate], I know that o'er their hones Have grateful hands piled monumental stones. Sonic of ilio<e piles I've seen ; The one at Lexington, upon the green # Where the first blood was sh-dj ‘t'hat to mv country’s independence led ; And others, on our shore, The ‘‘Battle Monument’’ at Baltimore, And that <>ri Bunker’s Hid, Ay, find abroad, a few more famous still: Thy “tomb,” Themistncles, That looks out vet upon the Grecian seaj Apd which the waters ki*s That issue from the gulf oftialtxmis. And thine, too, have I sent, Thy mound of earth, Pat roe! u*, robed in green, ■ That, liken nd-urdl knoll, Sheep climb and nibble over, as they stroll, Watched by some turban* and boy, Upon the margin ofthe plain of Troy, Such honors grace the bed, > t know, whereon the wdrrjor levs Ins y:ad, Arid he-s, as lift* ebbs out, ™ The conquered tlvirtg.and the conquerer’s shout. But, as fiis eye gfqws dim, What is a column or a mound to him ? Whht.to the parting soul, The mellow not*- of bugles * What the roll Os drums 1 No: let me die Where the blue heaven bonds o’er me lovingly, And ihe soft summer air, As it goes by me, stirs my thin white hair, • And from my dries The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies Seem waiting to receive t My soul to their clear depths ! Or let me leave The world, when round mv lied Wife, childretl, weftping friends are gathored, And the calm voice of prayer And holy hymning shall my soul prepare To go and bo at reU With kindred spirits.—spirits who have blossed The human brotherhood By labors, cares ar.d counsels for their good. And in my dying hour, When riches, fame and honor have no powvr To bear tho spirit up, Or froin mv lips to titrn aside the ctip That all must drink at ‘ast, O, let me draw refreshment f oni the past ! Then let my soul run back, With peace and joy, along itiy ftarthly trafck, And sec that all the That I lnve scattered there, in virtuous deeds, Have sprung up, and have given, Already, fruit of winch to taste in heaven! And though no grassy mdund Or grftnile pile say ’tis hrivic ground Where my remains repose, Still will l hope—vain hope, perhaps! that those Whom I have siriven to bless, The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless, May stand aroiind my gravft, With the poor prisoner, and the poorest slave, And breathe an humble prayer, Th*t they may die like him whose bones aro moul deiing there. A True Picture.—The picture of a Southern planter, as we too olten find him, is from the graphic pea of our Iriend Wil son, of ihe Planter’s Banner, (Franklin Lou isiana.) There is a deuced sight more truth than poeiry in it. By-and by our planters will probably learn a lit le gump tion, and then we shall be happy to see the picture reversed, but until theu candor compels us to acknowledge its correct ness: “Now for (he picture of the planter—He wouldn’t sell a chicken or a dozen eggs, or a bushel of peaches, nor a calf (or any con sideration. He raises cotton—he does ! lie rides in a 600 dollar carriage, for which he goes in debt. His daughters thrum on a piano that never will be paid for. He buys corn which he could raise at ten cents a bushel, and pays sixty cents for it, after 24 per cent to his commission merchant. He could raise his own tobacco, yet he pays 83 a pound for “ Richmond scented.” lie ceuld raise his own hogs—yet he patronizes Cincinnati. The consequences are disas trous. Being the possessor of one staple, he fluctuates with the market of that article.— He takes the “ Prices Current”—he pays postage—he gobbles down the English news like a cormorant. If he sells to day, he’ll lose—therefore he’ll wait for better advices. He is “mixed up” in cotton, and a gambler therein. Meantime he wants money ; drafts on his faclor! .Ue wants cotton goods and cloths for his plantation, that he could make ai home. He orders them, and feels “large.” The manufacturer, the insurer, the shipper, the freighter, the draymen, the warehouse trjan, the seller, and finally the commission merchant, all finger in the pie of profits, and the proud, foolish planter pays then) all.— The year closes, and he is up to ips eye brows in debt! This is the result of his not “calculating” nor even guessing the differ ence between farming and planing—One supports a family ; the other supports pride, uutil • pride gels a fall.’” THE raiosi OF THE STATES, AND THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE STATES. DIISCELLAKY. THE VEILED LADY; OR, tv no CAS SfTE BE? BY NED BUNTLINE. “ 55 itli the reugh blast heaves the billow, (tl the light airuavts the willow, Every thing of moving kind Varies wttli the veering wind ; V\ hat have I to do with thee, Dull, anjoyous constancy ?”—Joanna Bailik “ Dp. thy charmed armor don, Thou’il need it ete the night be gone?”—Drake. “ Dulce, will you go to the masquerade ball, to-night!” said 1 to my lesser-half, on a bright evening during the gayest part ofthe “carnival season,”in Cuba. “ No, my atnor,” answered she ; ‘‘l am ill this evening ; don’t go out to-night, but stay by my side, and let your cheering presence save a doctor’s fee.” “Madame, you know that 1 had made up my mind to go out in my new cabellero’s dress ; you are not very ill ; and I shall be dull company for you if disappointment holds a berth in nty mind. \ r ou had betler consent tc my going ; I will return early.” “ Do as you please, sir,” site responded, poutingly ; “hut if you neglect me tints in the first year of our marriage, how shall I be treated when Time’s shadow shall darken tny brow, and dim the light of my eyes; when my spirits shall droop, and my beauty fade, be'ore the wintry frosts of age!” To shorten tny yarn, reader, I rigged my self and went to the ball, mv heart beating a “ conscience-tattoo” against its casing all the way ; for well I marked the soft reproach which my wife’s fuii daik eye spoke when t left her side. Having strived at the ball room, I mingled with the gay maskers, listened to the music, and in the sparkling wiue-glasa sought for excitement; yet that perpetual drum-stick of conscience kept thumping against the parciitnent-head ol reflection, & 1 did not feel happy. Dressed as attractively as possible, 1 sought and danced with the fairest maidens in the throng ; yet still, Thought, that nettle in life’s garden, kept Joy in a distant offing, and Pleasure far in tny wake. I was about to give up the chase for en joyment, and had dutifully made tip my mind to return heme and moor myself alongside of my little wife, When a fair hand was laid geiitly upon my arm, and a tremulous, musi cal voice asked me, in a whisper, to retire a little from the crowd. The hand was deli cate, and seemed smaller even than mV wife's; and the taper fingers were encircled by tings of rare value, such as could only be worn by the rjch and titled. The lady was Closely veiled in black ; yet I caught one glimpse of eye-light through the thick crape, in the blackness of a night-storm, t have seen the clouds for a moment open and permit a star to glance with supernatural brightness down on the agitated ocean ; and even so fell that glance on tne. The voice was one of (hose which, when it falls upon the ear, vi brates along every nerve until il readies the heat (-strings, where it echoes and re-echoes, till JJemory “catches the tune,” and too truly for ilever to pass from her grasp. I lolluwcd Ihe stranger’s invitation ; and as ! gazed on tho fairy'form which flitted be fore me, I forgot my little invalid at home. The “mask” Was but little if any larger than my wife ; vet there was a fullness and elegance of figure, a grace and voluptuous ness of motion in the former, which 1 had never observed in the latter. My wife Had beautifully soft, glossy curls of jet, but they could never compare with the black tresses of twining silk, which hiing nearly tc’lie feet of my strange charmer.—When wo had got clear of Ihe tnrong, sho again spoke : “ Arc you a gentleman !—one on whom a lady may in all honor depend !’* I answered; that to the lie-t of my knowl edge and belief 1 was, and thought I might be depended upon. “Would vou risk your own life, or destroy that of another, fur a lady, if her honor re quired, add her love would reward the act!” “For one so fair, so angelic as yourself, I would risk mors than life !” A shudder seemed to pass through her form ; her little Feet stampted the tesselnted floor impatiently ,’ her fingers wore clasped together until they were hloodloas; as site continued : “ Have you ever loved ?” “ I may have felt a schoolboy's passion,” I replied, with assumed ind llbronce. “ Then yon are not married !” ” 1 have been,” was my reply; Even so deceitful is man ; even so is woman often lost ; for while he pours forth his flittering tale, she listens ; listening, she loves—loving, she is lost. Again Bhe showed marks of impatienco and excitement, as if some great trouble rested on her mind. This I pressed Iter to reveal to me, offering every aid in my power to de fend her, or even to avenge past wrong. 1 besought Iter to have confidence in my affec tion, new-fledged though it was, and to test its strength, even as she m ght direct. Site faltered, hesitated for a moment, and then, requesting tne to await her return, hastily left the ball-room. “ Now,” thought I, “hero is a scrape for a sober married man to get into ! Perhaps she may be some beautiful syren, who has laid a trap to inveigle and rob, and perhaps to murder me ! Shall 1 await her return?— or shall I fly the danger? But I am armed why should I fear ?” 1 began also to think of my poor invalid wife ; and these thoughts, coupled with my fear of betrayal, by the aid of a little more solitude, would have conquered me, and sent me home ; but, at this critica 1 moment, the “mask” returned, bearing in her hands a heavy black veil. She beckoned me to follow her iuto a neighboring street, where, in a moment, we stood beside a close-curtained volante, into which she sprang, I followed her. She immediately enveloped my head In the veil which she had brought, cautioning me on my life not to attempt to remove it, unless al her request. The carriage started off with speed ; in deed, the driver seemed to be urging bis horses to a rapid gallop. Our road was long ; for even at this speed we must have ridden for two hours, some of tho lime over rough, rocky roads, and then along smoother ways, when at laet the panting animals were brought to stand. Immediately thereafter I beard a creaking noise, as if a port-culiis were suddenly raised, or some old gate swung back on its unoiled binges. ‘‘Speak not a word, whatever you may hear ; nor raise the veil, or your life and mine may be the forfeit 1” whispered my fairguide ; and while she spoke 1 lelt that she trembled from head to foot. Her hand was cold as ice, and her impeetuous voice stifled and husky. Before we advanced from the carriage, she also made me vow by all the saints in Hsaven, never to reveal what I might do qr see in that nif fit’s adventure. Bhe then led me cautiously on, apparently through a large garden, for the cool night breeze bore the perfume of orange, citron, pink, Jemon and spice blossoms to my cheek. COLUMBUS, GA. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23, 1815. We soon arrived at another door, which creaked ruatily as it opened before us ; and then our way seemed up a winding stone staircase, through a passage so still, so so’ letnnly silent, that it even echoed the light foot-lall of my companion, while my own heavy tread rang, like groans in a cavern, through the still, damp air. Until now, the lady had not spoken since we had stepped from the volante ; but, as wo arrived at the top of the stairs, arid passed into a warmer atmosphere, she whispered that the hour to test my courage and love had arrived. We stepped across a soft car pet, and she seated me on a yielding cushion. I could see nothing through the thick veil j vvhich'slte had thrown over my face, yet a kind of blueishnesa in the darkness before me, convinced me that I was in a lighted room. No sound could I hear, save tho suppressed breathing of my trembling companion, and the beating of my own heart. After re maining lor a moment on the ottoman, which shook from nervousness, she again addressed mo : “ You are armed with pistol and dagger ?” “ I atn,” said I, inwardly praying tiiat I might have no occasion to use them. “You will please give me those weapons,” said she. •• Alt !” thought! ; “I am betrayed ; and site asks my weapons of defence, that I may he made an easier prey ! Let me ask,!’ said I, “your reasons for tins strange requesj?” “ A true lover never asks for reason^ front one in whom ho confutes answered tho “mask ;” adding.—“ Tito business I hjtve in hand for you has need of courage, calpmess and prudence ; hut your weapons couljl avail you nothing. They will not be required ” She shuddered as she spoke ; adding quick ly : “Such as they have already dune too much !” She paused a moment, and seemed to bo schooling herself to some dreadful task.— Again she addressed me : “ I have a tala to tell you, sir ; no, not a tale, but some questions to ask. Had you an ouly sister, one who was young, fair; in nocent, and ignorant of the world’s wicked ness, and thus unprepared to cope with vile art and sinfulness; and should she meet with one who was in appearance all full of noble ness, purity, generosity, and true manliness; and; in her own full heartedness, should she love him only as woman in nature’s simplici ty can love ; and should he takuig foul ad vantage of her affection for him, work her hlin, and hiving succeeded, then scornljutly leave her without reparation, an outcast from even his bosom ; a dark thing upon the world ; unwilling to live, unprepared to die ; and should she, in the hour when he spurned her, a dishonored thing, from his feet; even when she was pleading for the love and pro tection of one who with hellish art had wrought her ruin ; should she in that dire moment of crowded miseries strike a pomard to his iieait •” “She would nobly do her duty !” cried I, excited to madness by the painful picture. “Would you aid her in removing all tho proof of ciime?” continued the “mask;’ “would you assist that poor girl to place be neath the dark earth all that was earthly of Iter defiler ?” “I would I If thou art she, lead on. lam ready; ay, ready to do more! Would that my hand instead of thine had sent the re cieant’s soul to its hissing home ! 1 love thee now better than before. True; thou hast been dishonored, but thou art revenged !” “Be uot too hasty, sir,” said she , “ let me sketch you one other picture, before I call on you foraciion. Again 1 will suppose you have an only sister. 1 will suppose her, with your full knowledge and cotisent, to have given Iter afl’ectibns and her hand to one whom you believe to be noble, manly, and and in every way calculated to make her know tho true bliss of existence. She loves him, even oner the bounds of this world’s adoration ; watches for hia stitilh as the flow er beaten down by the rain waits for the sun shine ; sighs and droops when the clouds of sorrow’ cast their shadows over him ; joys when hiS hopes brighten ; ministers to every comfort, and seems a being aa closely bound to him as light is to .the diamond. Suppose that lie to whom you have entrusted her, the innernt si heart jewel of yourself; the bright corner ofvourdotnaslic fire-side ; imagine he should grow cold and unmindful of her peace ; that his love for her should fade ; that her smile should fall upon him cold as torch-light on a funeral pall ; that her voice should no longer be music to his oar, that ho should seek fur other smiles, and give to oth er ears the words which were alone her due, when you saw her droopmg, fading, dying, beneath the shadow of hia neglect, what would you do ?” . “Slay him ! by the Hand which made me! I would slay him as a dog that had bit ten or a serpent that had stung me !” Fjven as 1 spoke, I thought of my oWn de serted wife, and Conscience ‘.took a pull at the halliards” of my heart, and wrung it to the very core. I fell as if 1 could have given a world, had it been mine to give, if I could he placed alongside the couch of tny lonelv bride ; and I vowed in tny soul never to grieve her again, should I return unharmed from the dreadful scenes of that night. “Lady,” said I, “if your first tale be, as 1 feel it is, true ; if you have slain him who wrought your ruin, and have chosen me to aid you in your dreadful task, I pray you hasten the deed. Let there be no delay.” “Then follow me!” said she > “ you need not follow far.” She led me on a few steps, into what I supposed to be another room; here she bade me to pause, and calm myself. I must ac knowledge that 1 felt greatly agitated ; but mustering all my self-poasession andpresence of mind, 1 prepared to cast aside the veil, at her bidding and determined not to shrink from the horrible duty which lay before nte. She lifted the veil from my head. A blaze of light forced me to close my eyes; and then 1 dared not open them; Imagina tion fainted a scene belore me which I fear ed to gaze upon. At last shame unclosed my eye-lids, and I gazed around, * * • Surprise almost stunned me. It could not be ! —yet so it teas ! 1 stcJ&d within tny own bed-room I The stranger raised her mask. My wife’s large black eyes looked sorrowfully out upon me ; she cast the long tresses of glossy hair from her head; and then appeared her own soft curling ring lets playing about Iter neck. She had fallen upon this plan to punish me for seeking pleasure ai a time when she, by reason of sickness and guttering, contd not enjoy it with me. She had indeed taught me a lcs sou of conjugal fidelity. My own volante had driven me at full speed over half the city ! I had been led through a back-gale and had traversed a part of my house which I had never before enter ed ; and all through tho contrivance of my witch of a wife ! Borrowed jewels had dis guised her hands ; she bad spoken in an al tered voice beneath her mask ; and 1, had actually fallen in love with my own wife ? What a fix'for a married man to be in ! From Uie Madisonian. A CRUISE IN THE EAGLE. BY A REETKR. My “leave of absence for three months” had expired but a week, when on calling at the village post office, a yellow document with the Navy Department stamp was placed in my hand. On opening it. I found myself ordered to report in seven days for the United States frigate Eagle, then fitting out at Brooklyn, New York. She was a crack ship, and I was pleased to be selected as one of her officers. The novelty of home had worn off. I had ceased to receive all the attentions of a guest, and relapsed into nty former situa- J Lon, aseneo? the boys of the family, in spite of my assumed and gnity and numerous insinuations that they were soon to lose the charming society of an important officer :n the Tnited States Navy. But to tell the j truth I believe they were growing some what weary of me. My Munchausen ac counts of a two years’ cruise round the Horn had ceased to elicit the respectful attention ol the Htnily, and the only auditor who now manifested tho slightest interest in my yarns, was a pretty little black eyed girl the chosen playmate of my sister and her constant companion. Her father was the village physician, a man of some acquire ments anti universally beloved. .Mary was his only child, her mother bad died in giving her birth; the mournful circumstance attached a deeper interest in the Doctor’s heart toward Ins beautiful daughter. And Mary Gray Was all sweetness of disposi tion—a warm heart, filled with the most pleasing sentiments of nature. None asso ciated with her without feeling their hearts warm toward the interesting creature.— ’ rwas but natural I should love her; and il there was a pang to my feelings on read ing tny orders a second time, it was the idea ol being separated from Mary Gray. I hurried home and entered the parlor where my mother aud sister were seated— neither paid me any atien'ion, as was their habit on my first return home. I noticed this falling off, and secretly rejoiced at the prospect of their respect and attention re turning (as I knew it would) when informed that their midshipman was soon to leave them. A sad parting with my family, a tender adieu from Mary Gray, wi.h a memento of her kind regards, and 1 was, on the fourth day from the receipt of my orders, on my way to join the Eagle, I arrived in due lime, reported to the commanding officer, and unce again was au inmate of the steerage, the midshipman’s home, his bed room, parlor and dining apartment ’Tis the most re markable part of the ship, without comfort, yet has the happiest occupants It is tiio scene of his youth. The steerage officers are a gay, wild, reckless, devil-may care set; fun and fr> lie ever uppermost in their thoughts, till the period of their exam ination draws near, when at interval they are more sedate and studious. A midship, man was scarce ever known to be sad, un less pul in watch and watch for punish, menl, and then only with the momentary reflection on the quantity cf sleep which he was to be deprived oi. Blow high or blow low, wet or dry, hot of cold, in danger or out, the steerage is the same helter-skelter, noisy, fun and frolicksotrle spot. The gallant Eeagle was ready lor sea, and on a beautiful Sunday morning in June, when the hells were tolling for the assemblage of the church goers, we tripped our anchor, and, with all sail set, stood out to sea, (leaving crowded Battery and tall church-spires behind,) seeking the deep blue waves of old ocean. There were a few sad faces, many sentimental expres sions, and a crowded letter bag on the cap stan, containing doubtless the last tender adieus of some love-sick swain; who breath ed vows of eternal devotion. There was one letter in that hag for Mary Gray. VVe passed the Narrows, crossed the bar, dismissed our pilot, and soon old Never sink belied its name and sank in the dim ness of distance. VVe were away from the land, ofthe wide spread ocean, a clear blue sky above and good westerly breezes pro pelling us along at 7-0 the hour. Our des tination was the Mediterranean; every one on board was delighted with the idea of vis iting the old world, with its classical asso ciations. It is a glorious feeling to be on board a fine dashing frigate, well manned and offi cered —you may indeed feel the force of Byron’s sentiment—“ Who would brave tho battle fire, the wreck,” &c. A fast ship will make active officers, for the association will naturally bear upon tho formation of the young aspirant. ’Tis an axiom, “ A dull Ship makes dull ofTwers.” Who ever took an interest in a dull horse? An interest in a ship is the great requisite in learning the profession of sailors. What service can a slow man-Uf war render? None. She can neither flee from a superior force, nor overhaul au e qual or’ inferior. Had “ Old Iron Sides’’ not possessed the sailing qualities (or which she is remarkable, Hull would not have escaped from the English fleet, or the Java, Guerrier, Cayne and Levant been humbled by her broadsides. The Eagle was indeed a fast ship, well commanded and wholesome man-of-war discipline administered on board. No weak inventions of a shallow sconce—no scan dalous and unseemly punishments that on ly serve to irritate arid engender disgust When a man commuted an offence, after the lapse of twenty-four hours, he was pun ished according to law. The steerage of the Eagle was composed ol twenty various characters, free from care and trouble; Ihe blythe song, merry jest, and boisterous laugh ever sounded among them. Time floated gaily along with fair and pleasant breezes. .In twenty tour days we entered tho straits of Gibraltar and an chored under the high, bold and invulnera ble rock, with its countless bulldogs,frown ing from the numerous embrasures aud port holes. VVe had scarcely anchored, when our Consul came alongside, and handed us or ders from the Commodore, to join him, without an hour’s delay, in Smyrna. “All hands up anchor !” soon knocked all on shore.going anticipations into a cocked hat, and in one hour from our anchorage we had rounded Europea Point. Tho wind blew strong iron! the noilh and east, bring ing into action the finest qualities of the swift Eagle;- in four days we made the bold promontory of Cape Matapan, and the high land of Morea; Greece, venerable Greece was in sight—my head filled with Leoni das, Socrates, Thetnistocles, and the elo quent Demosthenes—l gazed upon the high land of Greece, and almost imagined the ftecy cloud3, that moved slowly over the surface of the mounts, were the martial my riads of Xerxes approaching the pass of Thermoplae. [VOL. V.—NO 17. But a midshipman’s brain is generally so unsettled in its fancy, he dwells but a inn ment on objects surrounding him—a light touch of imagine tion—and catching up some other object, lie glances over it, pleased and appreciating, but not with the attentive scrutiny of a connoisseur, hrlging every cir cumstance and beauty into light. The entrance to tho Archipelago is exceedingly interesting—each isle the location of some classic association—keeping alit e the feeling 1 of interest constantly awakened in a Medi j terrarican cru : se. VVe passed between Cen | go and main land, making a direct course ; lor Milo, as our captain intended toobtainaj pilot front there, which we did at no m with- i out entering the harbor. Our course wasj now among the numerous islands for Smvr-1 na—land in sight both day and night. At j 8 o’clock P. M. on the day of obtaining our) pilot, we were becalmed. The wind fori twenty four hours hail been variably, ac-| entnpanied by rain and occasional squalls. The[calm was an ominous one, and the bar-1 ometer gave indication of ugly times—our j pilot became uneasy—a quivering light, aurora borealis, flashed dimly in the North ern heavens, and heavy, dull clouds dark en the sky. All hands were called; the top-1 satis close reefed, roynl and top gallant ‘ yards sent on dec!?, and top gallant masts housed (orstruck.) Our master had care-! fully watched with the azimuth compass j the bearing of eacit point of land, till dark- j ness ruled all objects. The land lay to the southward—the west; point of Paros bore S. VV.—the east point of j Naxos E. S. E., with a northerly wind.— VVe had a lee shore, but with daylight could make with safety Ihe passage between Naxos and Paros. At night ’uvas impossi ble. So clustering are the islands in the Ar chipelago that navigation, in the most fa vorable weather, is at night perplexing; and many fine vessels have been lost, by mis taking the d.ffereut islands stealing a wrong course. The dark clouds began to lift and j break assunder to the northwatd, present | ing a wilJ, frightful appearance—a diora-1 mal scene of giant forms battling in the heavens. The lightning flashed, and tiie rumbling thunder roared over the sea, shak ing earth to its centre - showing feeble man the significance of earth’s exc.leinent when heavtm open its terrific voice. Bail was reduced to close reefed fore main top-sail, fore-storm-staysail & main spencer. The courses were close reefed and furled, for we knew not how soon a “lee shore” would call for a heavy press of canvass.— The blast tame; to “beat up” was impossi ble; we must hold our own, for every foot to windward was safety. The gallant lrig ato must stand the brunt—and nobly did she act her part—watched by experienced eyes, her helm in the hands of iron-nerved quartermasters who had braved the billows in their most terrible ntoods. On cateered tho brave Eagle, rushing through the foam of water, the wind howl ing amid the tautened cordage, singing a thousand storm songs, and heaving up the boscm ofthe sea in violet.t contortions of its surface: Our only chance of safely was to keep sail on bet, and hold uur own during the night; at dawn we could see to “make a lee,” or run for Milo, if necessary. Such was the detetmination of our captain—the pilot did not consult, or interrupt in his pa thetic appeals to the Virgin Mary; for the moment the gale came on he fled to the ward room, and continued on his knees ’till kicked out of the way by the signal quartermaster, who went below, with hands to attend the “relieving tackles.” The stout Eagle battled nobly with the storm, bending gracefully over, acknowledging the power of infuriated Boreas, ami rose again wtilt each high wave, easting oft’ the spray or trembling with the dangerous ablution of the Archipelago sea. The master hove the log and watched the drift with axious attention, overhauling the chart every few moments with the captain. After running three hours and a half on this tack, the or der was given to gee everything ready for “tDcarvig ship.” All below was secured, and on deck the crew were at their stations, waiting for the voice of command. Our critical situation was well known; prompt ness and precision were necessary in the evolution, that we might lose as little ground as possible. “ Wear ship,’’ said the captain, in a calm tone; the order was echo ed in clarion tones from the trumpet of ouf first lieutenant and passed forward. Scarce had the order been repeated, When (he foretopsail was blown into a thousand shreds, wnlt a sharp flapping wind of a seconds duration. “Mind your weather helm, quartermaster,” sang out the first lieutenant. “Mind weather helm” was re peated by the deep, resolute toned voice of the helsman. The main spencer was brail ed up, weather braces manned, the helm put up, but for the once the Eaglo disobey ed her rudder. “Tell the officer ofthe fore castle to goose Wing the foresail, sir,” said the first lieutenant to one of the midship men. A stout lashing was passed round the bun* of the foresail, wcat her gaskets and clow garnets let go and the tack hauled aboard. The main topsail clew lines and humling, were also manned to take in the topsail, if the goose-wing ofThe foresail should not have the desired effect, viz: to throw all the wind’s power forward of the centre of motion and make her pay off; but no sooner did the blast catch the clew ol the foresail, than the Eagle acknowledged its influence and flew oil from the wind, in creasing her velocity—as the wind grew aft—before the wind; the yards were squar ed, foresail furled, fore slofm-s(ay.sail haul ed down, back stays well set up, helmed eased dmvn; rolling aud pitching in the trough of the seas, the bulkheads groaning as if in mighty pain, she catne slowly too the starboard tack; the main spencer was set, topsail braced up, wind abeam, the fore storm staysail hoisted. All was made snug on this tack, gallantly behaved the Eagle in performing this evo tion, which is but imperfectly related.— The gale continued with undiminished fu ry, but on this tack we would, ’twas hoped be enabled to clear the western point of tko Island—still ’twas doubitul—nothing but the weatherly qualities of the Eagle would save us. To bend anew foretopsail wa s an ut ter impossibility—the fury of the blast would not permit it—so loan unknown fate we were dashing Over the agitated waters hope—beaming through the gloom ol un certainty— for we had eveiy confidence in our commander, and the qualities of the Eagle, though she labored over mountain waves that seemed exerting their powers to destroy. Now we rose high as if to pierce the dark masses of clouds above aud then sank low in the hollow of the sea, the spray breaking wildly over us. Ah, those who see a ship riding calmly on the bosom ol some unruffled bay or tran quil river, when the mariner rests from the toils and vicissitudes of an ocean lile, may imagine the sailor's career one bright hal cyon day, devoid of the tils and nii.furtuue shore going mortals are heirs to. But place them on the deck ol a ship in uncertain navi gation—no star to point out their danger— no beacon light to warn of perils near—but the mighty winds howling over, and agita ting to a dread and fearful lieght, the ocean billows—dark clouds frowning—the thun der’s of heavens artillery pealing, while eve ry crested ware washes o'er the struggling croft—how soon would all his romance flte before the stern reality of this wild and reck less l.fe. Anxiously waited the weary crew of the Eagle lor the tnornig’s dawn; then they would see their position and be enabled ter handle with more confidence the frigate.— Calm and obedient all stood to their sta tion®, the effect of excellent discipline.— Morning dawned, the scene was wild and terrible. We had drifted more than was anticipated, and to weather the dangerous point was our only chance of safety. “Set the courses,” said our commander, and though it seemed madness itself, and next to au impossibility for the frigate to stand np under the canvass, the courses j wt re set to claw clear of danger, she leaned j over to the tempest, trembling in every joint. i now mounting a wave and then madly | dashing down, bowsprit under, as if diving |to the bottom. We were very near the I point, breakers make out on a shoal fi>r some distance, and the sea over them was fright ; ful. “Sail, O!” sang out a dozen voices, j There, on our lee beam was a small brig, | struggling with the waves, her top-masts ! gone an I main yard; a lore aud tnair storm. I stay-sail was all the canvass she could j shoW: poor craft, her doom was sealed; no j aid could relieve her. And though we j were not safe, stillour own situation was forgotten in simpathy fur thepoor brig. | She was amid the breakers. A huge | sea carried her high on its top, tossed Iter ; like a cork on tho caldron of break ers that engulphed the unfortunate brig; she | was seen no more. Our trial came. We | struck the agitated waters, dashed over a | bed foam, a mountain wave lifted us on its j summit. I closed nty eyes. Home, pa tents, Mary Gray, my prayers,*all flished , through tny mind. There was aloud crash and wild cry. I gazed with a shudder. Wo had passed the danger. Our fore-yards gone, lore-sail flying with the wind in tat ters. A sea had boarded us in the waisfy lodged in the fore-sail, sweeping all before it; but we were under a lee, from the shoal, comparatively smooth—hauled up under the Island of Paros, and hove too till the gale broke. Our escape in passing the point was miraculous indeed; had the sea , been calm we could not have have passed [over the same spot;’twas a narrow shoal and one huge sea, in mercy lifted us clear of destruction. In a few days we anchored in the beauti ful bay of Smyrna. Tiie Uses op Does. — Mr. Grund in a letter published in Graham’s Magazine, alluding to Eugene Sue, says “he lives now by the product ol bis industry, in prince ly style, but his enjoyments are troubled by the constant fear of being poisoned by bis political and religious adversaries. He has, therefore, contracted an intimate friendship with two large, beautiful Newfoundland dogs, who aro his constant dinner and breakfast Companions, and who always eat first of every dish that is brought on the ta ble. Il these judges of gastronomy pro nounce in favor of it, by Hist eating a laige quantity, with apparent relish, the author of “ The Mysteries” and “The Wandering Jew” partakes of it without further sctuple. He believes dogs much more faithful than men, and the sagacious instincts of a regu lar Newfoundland superior to the science of chemists and physicians. We see it stated also; that ten Nswfound land dogs have been imported into Paris, for the putporse Os watching the banks of the Seine, and experienced trainers arts every day employed in teaching these mag nificent animals to draw from the water 3tuffed figures of men and children. The rapidity with which they cross and recrosa the river, and come and go at the toice of theii trainers, is truly marvellous. It is hoped that these fine dogs, for whom hand some kennels have been elected on the bridges crossing the Seine, will tcuder great service to tho cause of humanity. Good Receipts for Mutton Cutlets Stewed in their own Gravy. —Trim the fat entitely from some of the cutlets taken from the loin ; just dip them into cold wa ter ; dredge them with pepper, and then on both sides with flour ; rinse a thick iron saucepan with spring water; and leave in it about a table spoonful, atrafige the cutlets in on flat layer, if it can be done convenient ly, and place them over a gentle file, throw tu a little salt when they begin to stew, and let them simmer as softly as possible, but without ceasing, from an hour and a quar tet to an hour and a half. If dressed with great care which they require, they will be equally lender, easy of digestion and nutri tious ; and being at the same time, free from every thing which can disagree with the most delicate stomach, the tcceipt will be found a valuable one for invalids. The mutton should he of good quality ; but tho excellence of the dish depends mainly on its lining most gently stewed, for, if allowed (0 boil quickly, all the gruvy will be dried up, and the meat will be unfit for (he table. The cutlets must be turned, when they aro half done. A couple of spoonfults of w rier for gravy may be added to them should they not yield sufficient moistme ; but this is rarely needful.— Acton’s Modern Cooking. Yankees Everywhere One of theei* changes says that midway between Cairo and Suez, in the centre of the desert, there is a shanty kept by a Yankee, who sells coffee, tobacco, and other Yankee com forts to travellers. We desire to know who but a Yankee should open a house of ei*- tertainnient in the midst of the desert soli tudes, with any prospect of growing fa t by the operation? Why 1 if a solilar*; foot path for pilgrims lay across Moup.f Ararat we should expect to hear that verita ble Brother Jonathan had opei\ e j house of “eniermainment for man be* JSIon llle ve summit of the mountains -where he couiS sell gingerbread and bee r , and other Yan kee jtmcratks to the plodding traveller,-- Instead of being surged tha* a single Yankee should b ave opened a huckster's shop in the Arabian desert, our only marvel i SI that some other has not* before this, set down king side of him and opened a'.t opposition grocery. ‘•For Yankees thtive w!ici*e*Cr the gun, Bora his snecusciVe journeis run.” The Losx Treasure Ship. —The Balti more correspondent of the Courier, writes that there have been lefters lecerved by the airival of the Ship Constiiotion, from those connected with the San Pedro expe dition, who went out to the coast of the Spanish Main to raise the Spanish man of war San l’edro, sunk on the coast about fifty years ago, having on board about $2.- 000,000 in specie, bullion and other mate rials. They have succeeded in getting up an anehor, some brass cannon, and several dollars in silver. One of the dollars was embedded in the timbers of the vessel about four inches* earned, as is presumed, by an explosion of the magazine which sunk the ship. The stockholders are in high spirits, and refuse SIOOO per share for the stock which originallr cost SIOO. [Y. Y. Gazette, 3d inst.