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BY JAMES W. JONES. The Southern Whig, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING. TERMS. Three dollars per annum, payable within six months after the receipt of the fiist number, or fur dollars if not paid within the year. Sub scribers living out of the State, will be expect ed in all cases, to pay in advance. No subscription received for less than one year, unless the money is paid in ad vance; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, except at the option of the pub lisher. Persons requesting a discontinuance, of their Papers, are requested to bear in mind, a settement of their accounts. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered out. fcj- All Letters to the Editor or Proprietor, on matters connected with the establishment, ■ be post paid in orderto secure attention of the sale of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published sixty days previous to the duy of sale. The sale of personal Property, in like manner, must be published forty days previous to the day of sale. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that Application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for Leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published four months. Notice that Application will be made for Letters ;o administration, must be published thirty days and Letters of Dismission, six months. PROSPECTUS or THE TO®. THIS paper formerly edited by Wm. E. Jones, is now under the direction of the undersigned. The growing importance of Ath ens, the state of parties in Georgia, and the agitation of certain questions having a direct influence on southern interests; render it neces sary that the northwestern part of Georgia should have some vigilant, faithful sentinel always on the watch tower, devoted to a strict construction of the true spirit ol the constitution, the maintainance of the rightsand sovereignty of the States, the retrenchment of executive patronage, reform, and a strict accountability of all public officers; moderate, yet firm and decided in hiscensures, “nothing extenuate or setdown outfit in malice,” —to expose prompt ly abuses and and whereevr discovered— poses to ’ 1 . the j; li.>tlS. 11” - ginul popula r merits of Agriculture. Literature at id the Arts. To Georgians the undersigned is conscious , he appeals not in vain for an increase of patron- 1 age—and he respectfully asks the friends of constitutional liberty to make an effort, to ob tain subscribers. The Southern Whig is published weekly in Athens Georgia, at Three Dollars per annum payable in advance, Three Dollars and fifty cents if not paid within six months, or Four if not paid until the end of the year. 1 J. W. JONES. Athens, Aug. 8,1836. THE INDIAN’S PANACEA, IlOli the cure of Rheumatism, Scrofula or ■* King’s Evil, Gout, Sciatica or J/ip Gout, Incipient Cancers, Sult Rheum, Siphilitic and mercurial diseases, particularly Ulcers and painful affections of the bones, Ulcerated Throat and Nostrils, Ulcers of every description, Fever: Sores, and Internal Abscesses, Fistulas, Piles, Scald Head, Scurvy, Biles, Chronic Sore Eyes, Erysipelis, Blotches, and every variety of Cu taneous Affection; Chronic Catarrh; Headache, proceeding from an acrid humor; Pain in the Stomach and Dyspepsia proceeding from vitia tion; Affections of the Liver; Chronic Inflama tion of the Kidneys, and general debility caused by a torpid action of the vessels of the skin. It is" singularly efficacious in renovating those con stitutions which have been broken down by in judicious treatment, or juvenile irregularities. In general terms, it is recommended in all those diseases which arise from impurities of the blood, or vitiation of the humors, of whatever name or kind. Some of the above complaints may require some trifling assistant applications, which the circumstances of the case will dictate; but for a general remedy or purificator, to remove the cause, The Indian’s Panacea will generally be found suffiicient. For sale by REESE A LORD. May 14 2 ts. NOTICE. AS the Government of the United States, has entrusted to my care, the superintending of that branch of business, connected with the valuation of Cherokee Improvements; and be ing anxious to do ample justice to the parties concerned:—and having been informed that at tempts will be made by some individuals, to practice fraud upon the appraising agents, by having the labor of white men presented for val uation, as Indian improvements, I would res pectfully ask the favor of such persons as may have information of frauds, of whatever char acter, intended to be practised upon the Agents of the Government, to give the earliest notice thereof, in writing, over their proper signatures, either to the Appraising Agents for that section of country in which said frauds may be design ed, or to the undersigned at the Cherokee Agen cy Post Office, Calhoun, East Tennessee. BEN. F. CURRY. Superintendant Cherokee Removals ! P. S. All Proprietors of Presses within the <Cherokee country, as well as those near the border thereof, are requested to give the above ■notice three insertions, and forward their ac counts for settlement. Nov. 19,—29—3t "wanted* A Respectable Gentleman who can come well recommended as a Teacher of good moral character, to take charge of Philomathia Acade my in Ruckersville. The School to commence by the 10th of January, 1837. By order of the Board, J. A. CLARK, Seo’y. Oct. 8,-23 tlJan. FOUR months after date application will be made to the Honorable the Inferior Court of Clark county, when sitting for ordinary pur poses, for leave to sell all the Lands belonging to the Estate of the Orphans of Henry Houze dep’d., for the benefit of the Orphans of said deceased. DARIAS T. HOUZE, Guar, Sept. 10, |» 4 ln Southern Whig. From the Saturday News. The Two Streams. BY HENRY W. CHALLIS. Down from a mountain’s misty height, A torrent rushed, with foam and roar; Above its track, in circling flight, The whirling eagle loved to soar, Whose upturned eye flashed back the beam That glittered upon bird and stream! And, hurrying, with resistless force, The waters swept rude wilds among; While all that strove to stay their course, Rock, branch, and root were borne along, On many a furious eddy test, Till in the ocean wrecked—and lost! Near to the mountain’s shadowy side, O’erhung with trees of varied hue, A playful brook was wont to glide, ’Mid flowers that on the mirgin grew, Too wildly sweet, and simply fair, To tempt the. rifler’s footstep there. The blaze of sunshine never made The streamlet’s waves like liquid gold; But, darkening in the verdant shade, To distant vales they gently rolled. With murmurings to lull the dove, That nestled in the boughs above. The rustic bard would thither stray, Enwrapt in spells that Fancy weaves; And children in its nooks would play, Launching their fairy-fleets of leaves. Which, as they sunk or sailed, might be Their fates upon Life’s changing sea. And many a year beheld it flow, Clear, calm, and undisturbed—save when Old Time a withered branch would throw Across the happy streamlet; then, <So pure a spray the ripple spread, I seemed to weep some lover dead! Oh, might I, like that lowly rill, Peaceful and calm, Life's course pursue! Though Time’s cold withering influence will Some blighted hopes around me strew; I would not court Ambition’s dream, Nor tempt, for Fame, the mountain stream. From the Magnolia; the New York Annual for the year 1837. THE CREOLE VILLAGE. A SKETCH FROM A STEAMBOAT BY WASHINGTON IRVING. - In travelling about our motley country. reminded of Ariosto’s account * n w h*ch the good paladin - thing garnered up So I am apt losl in the old o<i ,>.■,■ f ><• t<•.! in tne continued from generation to generation, since the early days of the colonies. A European anti quary, therefore, curious in his researches after the ancient and almost obliterated customs and usages of his country, would do well to put himself upon the track of some early band of emigrants, follow them across the’ Atlantic, and rummage among their descendants on our shores. In the phraseology of New England might be found many an old English pro vincial phrase, long since obsolete in the parent country, with some quaint relics of the roundheads; while Virginia cherishes peculiarities characteristic of the days of Elizabeth and Sir Walter Raleigh. In the same way, the sturdy yeomanry of New Jersey and Pennsylvania keep up many usages fading away in ancient Ger many; while many an honest, broad-bot tomed custom, nearly extinct in venerable Holland, may be found flourishing in pris tine vigor and luxuriance in some of the orthodox Dutch villages still lingering on the banks of the Mohawk and the Hud son. In no part of our country, however, are the customs and peculiarities, imported from the old world by the earlier settlers, kept up with more fidelity than in the little, poverty-stricken villages of Spanish and French origin that border the rivers of an cient Louisiana. Their population is gen erally made up of the descendants of those nations, married and interwoven together, and occasionally crossed with a slight dash of the Indian. The French character, however, floats on top, as, from its buoy ant qualities, it is sure to do, whenever it formsa particle, however small, of an in termixture. In these serene and dilapidated villages. ' art and nature seem to stand still, and the . world forgets to turn round. The revo lutions that distract other parts of this mu -1 table planet reach not here, or pass over without leaving any trace, The inhabi tants are deficient in that public spirit which extends its cares beyond the horizon, and imparts trouble and perplexity from all quarters in newspapers. In fact, news papers are almost unknown in these villa ges, and as French is the current language, the inhabitants have little community of opinion with their republican neighbors. They retain, therefore, their old habitsjJ passive obedience to the decrees of vernment, as the absolute s \ ; . ants, insteadjjffi/. • / the '• jT-/,'. ■ ' •> in on theiiT good olA&T-V' *•' F l , Ol P a ; triarchaW: * j public and private iB , > ‘ consider ed oracuflk « ’ / l W ’ The iniW t • Z’’ have non€ of that e J^ 1 ra S e , for “ n provemenl^Hh tal^r ur con tinuallyon country towm incessantly in a state of transition I hen the magic phrases, “town lots, “wate. privileges,” “railroads,” and other compre > hensive and soul-stirring words, from thi speculator’s vocabulary, are never heard > The residents dwell in the same houses 11 > which their forefathers dwelt, withou 1 thinking of enlarging or modernizing them or pulling them down and turning then into gramte stores I They suffer the tree? “where powers are assumed which have not been delegated, a nullification of the act is THE RIGHTFUL REM JJ under which they have been born, and have played in infancy, to flourish undis turbed; though, by cutting them down, they might open new streets, and put mo ney in their pockets. In a word, the al mighty dollar, that great object of univer sal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages; and unless some of its missiona ries penetrate there, and erect banking houses and other pious shrines, there is no knowing how long the inhabitants may re main in their present state of contented poverty. In descending one of our great Western rivers, in a steamboat, I met with two wor thies from one of these villages, who had been on a distant excursion, the longest they had ever made, as they seldom ven tured from home. One was the great man, or grand signior of the village; not that he enjoyed any legal privileges or pow er there, every thing of the kind having been done away when the province was ceded by France to the United States. His sway over his neighbors was merely one of custom and conviction, out of de ference to his family. Besides, he was worth full fifty thousand dollars, an amount almost equal, in the imagination of the vil lagers, to the treasures of king Solomon. This very substantial old gentleman, though of the fourth or fifth generation in this country, retained the true Gallic stamp of feature and peculiarity of deportment, and reminded me of one of those provin- I cial potentates, the important man of a i petty arrondissement, that are to be met with in the remote parts of France. He was of a large frame, a gingerbread com plexion, strong features, eyes that stood out like glass knobs, and a prominent nose, which he frequently regaled from a gold snuft’-box, and occasionally blew with a colored handkerchief, until it sounded like a trumpet. He was attended by an old negro, as black as ebony, with a huge mouth, in a continual grin. This was very evidently a privileged and favorite servant, and one that had grown up and grown old with him. He was dressed in creole style, with white jacket and trowsers, a stiff shirt collar, that threatened to cut oft’his ears, a bright Madras handkerchief tied round his head, and large gold ear-rings. He was the politest negro I met with in a wide Western tour; and that is saying a great deal, for, excepting the Indians, the ne groes are the most gentlemanlike persona ges one meets with in those parts. It is true, they differ from the Indians in being a little extra polite and complimentary. He was also one of the merriest; and here, too, the negroes, however we may deplore their condition, have the advantage of their masters. The whites are. in general, too free and prosperous to be merry. The cares of maintaining their rights and liber ties, and of adding to their wealth, engross all their thoughts, and dry up all the mois ture of their souls. If you hear a broad, hearty, devil-may-care laugh, be assured it is a negro’s. Besides the African domestic, the signior of the village had another no less cherish ed and privileged attendant. This was a huge dog, of the mastiff’ breed, with a deep hanging mouth, that gave an air of surly gravity to his physiognomy. He walked about the cabin with an air of a dog per fectly at home, and who had paid fo’ R'la passage. At dinner time beside his master, giving liagplPwW* and then out of a corirtf bespoke perfect not be forgotten. Nor was he; every now and then a huge morsel would be thrown to him, peradventure the half-picked leg of a fowl, which he would receive with a snap that sounded like the springing of a steel-trap; one gulp, and all was down; and a glance of the eye told his master he was ready for another consignment. The other village worthy, travelling in company with this signior, was of a total ly different stamp. He was small, thin, and weazen-faced,such as Frenchmen are apt to be represented in a caricature, with a bright, squirrel-like eye, and a gold ring in his ear. His dress was flimsy, and sat loosely on his frame, and he had altogeth er the’look of one with but little coin in his pocket. Yet, though one of the poorest, I was assured he was one ol the most popu lar personages in his natjve village. Compere Martin, as he was commonly called, was the factotum of the place— sportsman, schoolmaster, and land-survey or. He could sing, dance, and, above, ail, play on the fiddle, an invaluable accom plishment in some of these old French creole villages, for the inhabitants have an hereditary love for balls and fetes; if they work but’ little, they dance a great deal, and a fiddle is the joy of their hearts. What had sent Compere Martin travel ling with the grand signior 1 could not learn: he evidently looked up to him with great deference, and was assiduous in rendering him petty attentions; from which 1 con ' eluded that he lived at home upon the crumbs which fell from his table, lie was when out of sight, and had his song forward among the deck ■”wWli but, altogether, CompereMar his element on board of a .. t, . ' Ijle was quite another being, at home, in his own vil- fellow-traveller, he too : had his canine follower and retainers and . one suited to his different fortunes, one of the civilest, homebred, most unoffending . little dogs in the world. Unlike the lordly mastiff, he seemed to think he had no right ; on board of the steamboat 1 If you did - but look hard at him, he would throw him- - sell upon his back, and lift up his legs, as s fimploring mercy. i At table, he took his seat, a little dis r tance from his master; not with the bluff - confident air of the mastiff’, but quietly and B diffidently; his head on one side, with one 1, ear dubiously slouched, the other hopeful -1 ly cocked up, his under teeth projecting t beyond his black nose, and his eye wist 1, fully following each morsel that went inti n I his master’s mouth. I If Compere Martin now and then shoulc ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, RECEMBER 10, 1536. venture to abstract a morsel from his plate, to give to his humble companion, it was ed ifying to see with what diffidence the ex emplary little animal would take hold of it, with the very tip of his teeth, as if he would almost rather not, or was fearful of taking too great a liberty. And then with what decorum would he eat it! How many ef forts would he make in swallowing it, as if it stuck in his throat; with what daintiness would he lick his lips; and then with what an air of thankfulness would he then re sume his seat, with his teeth once more projecting beyond his nose, and an eye of humble expectation fixed upon his master. It was late in the afternoon when the steamboat stopped at the village which was the residence of my follow voyagers. It stood on a high bank of the river, and bore traces of having been a frontier trad ing-post. There were the remains of the stockades that once protected it from the Indians, and the houses were in the an -1 ci<tnt Spanish colonial taste, ■ the place having been successively undeT 51 the domination of both those nations pri or to the cession of Louisiana to the United States. The arrival of the signior of fifty thou sand dollars, and his humble companion. Compere Martin, had evidently been look ed forward to as an event m the village. Numbers of men, women, and children, white, yellow, and black, were collected on the river bank; most of them clad in old-fashioned French garments, and their heads decorated with colored handker chiefs, or white nightcaps. The moment the steamboat came within sight and hear ing, there commenced a waving of hand kerchiefs, and a screaming and bawling of greetings and salutations, and felicitations, that baffle all description. The old gentleman of fift y thousand dol lars was received by a train of relatives, and friends, and children, and grandchil dren, whom he kissed on each cheek, and who formed a procession in his rear, with a legion ol domestics, of all ages, following him to a large, old-fashioned French house, that domineered over the village. His black valet-de-chambre, in white jacket and trowsers, and gold earrings, was met on the shore by a boon, though rustic, companion, a tall negro fellow, with a long, good-humored horse face, which stood out in strong relief from beneath a narrow-rimmed straw hat, stuck on the back of his head. The explosions of laugh ter of these two varlets on first meeting w’ith each other, and exchanging compli ments, were enough to electrify the whole country round. The most hearty reception, however, was that given to Compere Martin. Eve ry body, young and old, hailed him before he got to land. Every body had a joke for Compere Martin, and Compere Martin had a joke for every body. Soon his lit tle dog appeared to partake of his popu larity, and to be caressed by every hand. Indeed he was quite a different animal the moment he touched the land. Here he was at home; here he was of consequence. He barked, he leaped, he frisked about his old friends, and then would skim round the place in a wide circle, as if mad. I traced Compere Martin and his little dog to their home. It was an old ruinous 0 . Spanish house of large dimensions, with verandahs overshadowed by ancient elms. iThe house had probably been the residence the Spanish commandant, but aristocratical • j,, family of my fel- (■®B®<W* , *«-*fSrpoor devils are apt to be ma o rsently clad and lodged in the cast-off clothes and abandoned palaces of the great and wealthy. The arrival of Compere Martin was welcomed by a legion of women, and chil dren, and mongrel curs; and as poverty and gaiety generally go hand in hand among the French and their descendants, the crazy mansion soon resounded with loud gossip and light-hearted laughtet. As the steamboat paused a short time at the village, I took occasion to stroll about the place. Most of the houses were in the French taste, with casements and rickety verandahs, but. most of them in a flimsy and ruinous condition. All the wagons, ploughs, and other utensils about the place were of ancient and inconvenient Gallic construction, such as had been brought from France in the primitive days of the colony. The very looks of the people re minded me of the villages of France. As I passed by one of the houses, the hum ofa spinning wheel came issuing forth. ! accompanied by a scrap ofa song, which a girl was singing as she sat at her labor. It was an old French chanson, that I have j heard many a time among the peasantry ! of Languedoc, and the sound of it brought : many a bright and happy scene to my re ; membrance. It was doubtless an old tra ’ ditional song brought over by the French emigrants, and handed down from genera tion to generation. Half a dozen young lasses emerged from the adjacent dwellings, reminding me by iheir light step and gay costume, of scenes in ancient France, where taste in dress comes natural to every class of females. The trim boddice and colored petticoat, and little apron, with pockets to receive the hands when in an attitude for conver sation; the colored kerchief wound taste fully round the head, with a coquetish knot perking above one ear; and then the neat slipper and tight drawn stocking, with its braid of narrow riband embracing the an kle whore it peeps from its mysterious curtain. It is from this ambush that Cupid sends his most inciting arrows. While I was musing upon th? recollec tions thus accidentally summoned up. 1 heard the sound of a fiddle from the man sion of Compere Martin, the signal, no doubt, for a joyous gathering. I was dis posed to turn my steps thither, and witness the festivities of one of the very few villa ges that 1 had met with in my wide tour, that was yet poor enough to be merry; but I the bell of the steamboat summoned me to re-embark. As we swept away fiom the shore, I east back a wistful eye upon the moss <rrown roots and ancient elms oi the village, , and prayed that the inhabitants might long - retain their happy ignorance, their absence -of all enterprise and improvement, their , respect for the fiddle, and their contempt 1 for the almighty dollar. I fear, however, t my praver is doomed to be of no avail. t In a little while the steamboat whirled me - to an American town, just springing into f bustling and prosperous existence. s The surrounding forest had been laid t out in town lots; frames of wooden build- - ings were rising from among stumps and 5 burnt trees. The place already boasted a f court-house, a jail, and two banks, all built of pine boards, on the model ol Grecian j ; temples. There were rival hotels, rival 1 churches, and rival newspapers; together with the usual number of judges, andgen- 1 era's, and governors; not to speak of doc . tors by the dozen, and lawyers by the ;! score. ; I The place, I was told, was in an aston .; ishing career of improvement, with a ca , , mil and two railroads in embryo. Lots in price every week; every body . I was speculating in land; every body was I ’ rich, and every body was growing richer. I The community however, was torn to . 1 pieces by new doctrines in religion and in J political economy; there were camp meet . j ings and agrarian meetings; and an election . 1 was at hand which it was expected would , 1 throw the whole country into a paroxysm. ; Alas! with such an enterprising neigh -1 bor, what is to become of the poor little creole village ? From the Boston Pea~l. THE BRIDAL EVE. ~ A TALE OF BOSTON IN THE OLDRN TIME. But who art thou, 1 With the shadowy locks o’er thy pale young brow, i And the world of dreamy gloom that lies ’ In the misty depth of thy soft dark eyes 1 Thou hast loved, fair girl—thou hast loved too well— Thou art mourning now o’er a broken spe'l— Thou hast pour’d thy heart’s rich treasures forth, And art unrepaid for thy priceless worth. Hemins, i 1 In a retired avenue in the rear of Wash- j ! ington street, and near the ever-to-be-re [ membered “ Old South,” stands a venera ble pile, surmounted by the uncouth figure of a grim son of the forest, yet known as ' the Province House. This building was j . once the gay head quarters of the com- I ' mander-in-chief of England's colonial ! troops. Yes, that antique relic of a de- ' I parted age, where now the busy and im- j ; portant “cit” resorts to enjoy his “Ha-! ; vana,” and recruit his temporal man with ' life’s luxuries was, in olden time,the proud . j court of a king’s military ambassador. Some six months after the incidents pre- | ! ceding, were seated round a table in this I . j mansion a few gay young officers of the j I English army. Mirth and hilarity seemed , to reign triumphant. Among the number ! , not the least conspicuous, sat Lord Arthur ■ B ; and if the “ human face divine” i : be an index of the heart, he would have , I been pronounced the happiest one of the ; j group. I “My Lord of B .’’ said young Col. ! 1 ■ G„ a conceited and good-humored officer, | 1■ “ what a lucky dog are you! And then , ; the mortification and envy you have caus | ed a score of others by your good fortune. 1 Fon honor, I was just on the point of at- I . tempting an assault on her myself. A ; . 1 lovely wife—and what is better, a plum by 1 , ; the way of settlement on your marriage ! . —a fine prospect for a king's officer in this f) cursed Yankee land. 1 wish to heaven I there was another wealthy and beautiful ; loyal nymph hereabouts. I would make her . i happy, as I live, for we have not hing else Ito lay siege to at present.” A roar of i 1 ! merriment followed the colonel’s confi- < ident speech. , ; “My gallant colonel,” said a more grave ; major. “ I fear you will never succeed in your feminine sieges.—You always get the ; lucre foremost in the articles of war. Be- . I lieve ine you will never gain a damsel’s ! heart by courting her daddy’s breeches ■ pocket.” , 1 “ Dont be too hard, my good major: my ,' mind wanders to that which is most need ; I ed. These Yankee sharpers can drain I British purses, even though they excel in . ! nothing. But let us drop this, and drink jto the health of the fair Miss II •, and ! our good Lord Arthur, not forgetting the • | approaching festivity, which, thank heaven ; will be one bright spot in our dark career.” 1 < We leave this merry company, and re ! turn to the quarters of Lord B. Seated on , I a couch in his apartment is the youthful ; ' messenger, Eugene. But how changed ; ■ sincelhe eventful night of his arrival! A . | few months ofdeep corroding anguish had .! wrought a fearful contrast in his fair form. ; ! The jetty and short curling hair is thrown . I aside, and from the fair brow flow luxu- ) riant locks of beautifully tinged auburn. 1 The flashing, tearful eyes, the flushed I cheeks, the firmly closed lips and heaving : i! bosom, reveal to the reader the ardent, de- ’ ; voted Lady Julia. Near at hand stands, ; regarding her with respectlul Iqok, the va- i ( , let Ralph. After a long and agonizing in ;; diligence m her woe, the lady raised her | . head and spoke. “For this painful conlir . mation of my suspicions I thank thee, mv kind Ralph. ?*ow that his falsehood is I truly unmasked—now that I feel he has ! ; filled my cup of bitterness to the brim—l . will witness with my own eyes these blast- ! ; ing events to my young hopes. O, Ralph, [ what have not 1 sacrificed lor this man ! this base hearted monster! Have 1 not' . suffered exile from my native land, and , passed even the bounds of my sex to be h>'ld his smile—to breathe the same air , that is charmed by his presence ? Have 1 not sacrificed home, friends, comfort, per s haps my own proud name, for this false . wretch 7 ” I “True, madam. But cannot your feign-i t cd report of the loss of fortune, and your : 3 1 o TC at distance—the long period since his I ifeaving England—be some atonement fori I my master’s untruth ?” . j ’“No, Ralph, this will not atone for ..'wrongs like mine. It was but a foolish.' romantic whim ci mine, to witness its ef fect on him : for this I bore to him my own letters, and, oh 1 the h ve and devotion he showered on my thirsty spirit on that night of our meeting. Little knew he who lis tened and feasted on his every word. Had the fond delusion of that night existed un broken for one short week, how gladlv would I have thrown off all disguise, and surrendered myself, my fortune, and my whole soul to him ! But to be thus cas't off. slighted and forgotten ! Shall the last of my proud and ancient line be thrown aside by him who once thought, lived and breathed but in my presence, and all this for an acquaintance of an hour! No, Ralph, I have fed upon his bounty like a dog, and of late, his very brute has had more smiles and kind looks than the neg lected and despised Eugene. But I have passed the bound of maiden honor—from shame and an insulted spirit there is no re treat. There yet remains revenge I—re venge such as woishi’s wrongs and wo man's heart can ' only dream I My kmd Ralph, you have been faithful to me: be si lent yet, and leave.” Another flood 'of scalding tears burst from her wild and flashing eyes, and she bent her aching head upon the couch in silent agony. Bright and joyous was the festal scene on the night destined for the marriage of Lon] Arthur B. and the lovely Miss H. Her father’s mansion was filled with fair ladies and gay officers of the king, “and the bright lamp shown o’er bright women and brave men.” Sweet music filled the hall, and proud figures, clad in scarlet and gold, blended with those of virgin white ness, flitted through the mazy figures of the giddy dance. All present appeared joyful and light-hearted, save one. In the deep recess of a window, stood a pale boy An unnatural brightness beamed from his ■ dark eyes, yet he seemed not to note the < gaiety before him. The gushing melody that floated through the brilliant apart ment, and the ringing laugh of youth, fell not in gladness on his ear. There was no room for these bright joys within the burn ing heart of that lone boy. The hour for the ceremony drew near, but where are the happy beings for whom this festive circle is gathered? In a seclu-, ded arbor of the garden sat a youthful | couple, conversing in a low and confiden- I tial tone; and how many biisful dreams of' the future, and what high and happy hopes, : urged their delusive visions on the minds ■ of that young pair. They are waited for ; I at the altar. The aged father of the young i bride approaches the pale Eugene—“ Tell thy master that the hour is at hand.” The boy started like one awakened from a dream: he looked around with a wild a mazement, then answered in a voice of hoarse, unearthly tone—“l will.” The agony expressed in those brief words rang I j strangely on the happy group around. The I j boy had vanished. ! Suddenly a shriek rang through the 1 I mansion that blanched the blood from ma- Iny a lovely cheek. All rushed to the ar- ■ bor. The young nobleman lay stretched ' upon the earth, the life’s blood gushing j from his heart, tinging with yet deeper I shade his crimson attire. Sinking b v his ! side was the slight figure of the youth, his | open garment revealing the white bosom 1 of a female, with the undrawn dagger yet ■ fleshed within its faintly throbbing heart. With the last exertion of fleeting life she ; exclaimed. ‘This is my revenge!—this ( the fearful price of a blighted name, of wo- / ; man’s wrongs!’ ) The bodies of these victims of broken truth were borne to their far distant native land. The fair Emma H. has long since been laid in the family vault of ancient ‘Copp’s.’ Al! has since changed, save the certainty that mankind arc prone to false hood, and that vows, like bubbles, are as easily broken as made. From the Cultivator. Importaui'e ol Education to Farmers and Mechanics, We suggested some considerations in our August number, with a view of showing, that all classes of the community, the professional, the commercial, and the manufacturing, have a deep interest in the increase of the products of our agticultuie, and in a more general diffu sion of scientific and other useful knowledge, among the cultivators ol the soil. As afford ing additional motives for providing a better system of education, and of rendering agricul tural and mechanical labor more honorable, more inviting, and more useful, we submit a fourth Proposition, to wit:— The moral and political health of the State, depend in a high degree, upon the intelligence and industry <f the country. Land and labor are the legitimate sources of public wealth. T'ae first, to be productive, | must be cultivated; and the labor of doing this ' is abridged by the culture of the mind, which ' is to guide its operations.—But labor not only ! produces wealth, and the comforts and elegan- ! cies of life, but it indaces, when aided bv an ’ intellige t mind,sober inoral habits,and begets ' independence of mind as well as of fortune. Idleness, not industry, is the parent of vice and of riot.— I'his seeks to bring merit down to ; its own level. Industry looks for fortune in the products ofits own labor; and for the en. ; joyment ol it in the peace and quiet of society, ; and the general prosperity of the state; and tends, by its example, to elevate and reform. ' Neither an intelligent individual, nor a well ■ formed industrious community, is prone to min-! gle in the vices and tumults of the dav. Hence ) the more intelligence we infuse into lab >r, the more abundant will be its products—-themon- : honorable its calling—the more numerous its ! subjects—ami the sounder the cond.tion of! nubiic morals. Knowledge and industry com- i bined, if not synouimous with virtue, are at < lyast a pretty good indication of worth and use- 1 fulness. Should not, then, the public mind bo I more enlightened, that virtue may more abound? ' 111 a government constituted like ours, which 1 confers on all the same political rights—the! same facilities for public instruction should bo : extended to all. that all may alike participate 1 in these advantages, and become qualified to 1 execute the public trusts. And the propriety ot this rule derives particular force, whenap-1 plied to the yeomanry and mechanics of our country, who, from their numerical force, must be arbiters ot our political destinies, and our i shield from every danger. They are emphati rally the sovereigns ol the land. Their will Vol. IV-No. must control, be it for good or be it for evil. The character of the government must receive its impress from them, and its prosperity and happiness be ever graduated by the measure of their intelligence, their industry and their virtue. Attempts to establish republican forms of government, have tailed in Europe, and ou our own continent, by reason of ignorance, and Consequent impotence, of the m d dling classes—of the rank and file of populni i*n. Learning there has been restricted totDe priv ileged few—while the many have been debas. ed to a servile condition, or resorted to crimo for a living. Power and wealth have a tenden cy to corrupt the higher orders; ignorance and poverty, to debase the lower classes; which have jointly contributed to annihilate, or to render impotent, the great middling classes, which here hold the balance of power, and who alone can perpetuate our republican principles. Those, therefore, who are destined to wield this power, with us, should be instructed in the rights and duties of freemen. It is a dictate of interest, as well as ofjustice, that otfr young farmers and mechanics—the future umpires of all political controversy —the conservator# ! oi public morals—should be better i I —that they should be instructed in science as may be useful in their as will enable them successfully to compete with the products of foreign labor at our doors— and so much in general knowledge as will fit them for the civil duties of society—so much as, with good habits, will qualify them for the duties of jureis, magistrates, legislators, and good citizens. The moral welfare of our state, and the perpetuity of our freedom, demand a higher grade of instruction in our common schools, and the establishment of new ones, adapted to the improvement of all our great ! branches of productive labor. ■. THE MAMOTH MAN. Our citizens have been edified during the past week by ths appearance of a visitor among them of uncommon pretensions to humanity— an exhibition w hich would outweigh half the other exhibitions in the city, and which, like many of the stupendous works, of art, goes far to destroy the moralist’s idea respecting the littleness of man. The extensive gentle man is a farmer, and weighs 700 pounds— his shirt would make a topsail for a moderate sized schooner.—We wonder how much poll tax he pays. He must be a man of great wit, since Falstaff was a fool to h>tn. We will warrant him a sharp one, and that it would be something of a job to get around him. His wife, or whoever had the management of his culinary concerns must have been sincerely devoted to this gentleman, as it is very evident they have made much of him. He has abundant cause to get on the right side of the tailors, • and although we know not what party in politics he espouses, we think whoever is on his side has a broad foundation to stand upon. He has the honor of receiving many visitors, of various characters and pretensions. Some, no doubt, have treated him like a man among men—but others appealed to fancy he was made for a show—a being who came into the world for no other purpose but to excite re mark, and gratify the curiosity of others.— Among the flattering speeches addressed to ■ him. one countryman from the county where i the Mammoth Man was born, said, “Well, we I raised the largest ox in our county, and now 1 here is you, that, I take it, is just a match for ] him. Leave us alone for raising big crit. ' ters.” It is said “that birds ofa feather flock to ! gether”—and certain it is, that many corpulent I gentleman have waited on our mammoth neigh. I bor, appearing desirous t» see their brother in I the flesh. But an event occurred lately which I excited a little mirth, after the joke was well ■ understood. It appears that a Southern gen : tieman of property, and no little self esteem, 1 was sauntering by Concert Hall, and in order to dissipate his ennui, dropped in to look at i the Mammoth Man. —Now this gentleman was, himself, rather corpulent, but not mora ' so than many others in the good city of Boston. I Feeling rather warm, he took a seat near the ; window, at a little distance from the mammoth and the circle which nearly shut him in from I observation. Our visitor had not long sat long I before a bevy of ladies, accompanied by a < young spark, entered the room.—The South- I erncr was the first object upon which their 1 eyes fell, and they straightway advanced to ! wards him. Supposing they knew him, the ' gallant man bowed, and awaited iheir speech. I Still they remained silent, but kept their eyes ! bent upon his countenance, surveyed every I part of him with a freedom to which the jealous Southerner had not been accustomed, ; and the young cavalier even pointed out par ticular parts of his person with a cane. Soon, ■ however, the ladies evinced disappointment. : One of them curled her ruby lip, and said in a j low but audible voice to her neighbor—“He is ; nothing after all—he is net halt so big as 1 'expected.” “How o>d do you call yourself, sir,” said the gallant to him. The Southerner ! looked musket bulls, and was about to start on his feet, when the real Simon Pure earne, waddling along between two gentlemen, like a ' mountain removed from its base.—Explanation took place, and the Soutneruer laughed heart ily at the mistake.— Boston Galaxy. A Small Soul. A biped, who has grown to the stature of a man, was addressed in the following manner, by a gentleman who hud been transacting some business with him: “ Yom claim to boa human being ! Why, sir, if you have a soul, ten thousand of its size would have more room in the shell of a mus tard seed, than a frog in the pacific ocean. Nav, more: tea thousand souls like your’s might colonize on the point of a cambric nee die, and live for fifty years, increasing in a ra tio equal to the Irish peasants; and should they then have a civil war, the vanquished party would have mountains and valleys to retreat to, ten day’s journey oft’. Why, man, neighbor Gripes’ soul is as much larger than vours as a sawmill log is larger than the thread ofa spider’s web; and his can hardly be dis cerned by the aid ofa microscope that magni ties a mi'lion of times!” Nonentity, where is thy children!” This same biped was a h itter, and actually tried the experiment of ascertaining how ma ny beaver hats he could make from one mouse skin. It is said be would make two dandy hats from the skin ot a good fat flint, and two boys' hats from the skin of a bed bug. This goes ahead of the steam doetor, who said ho could make two young men out of an old one, and have enough left to make a Newfoundland dog. Wooden nutmegs and cucumber seeds, speak now, or forever after hold your peace. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation: the fool, when he gams that of others.