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BY JAIIEB W. JONES.
The Southern Whig,
PUBLISHED EVERY S.ITCBBAV XOKXIXO.
TEBMS.
Three dollars per annum, payable within six
months after the receipt of the fii st 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 advanc.s.
No subscription received for less than one year,
unless the money is paid in advance; and no
paper will be discontinued until all arrear
nges 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 contained until ordered
out.
s'y- All Letters to the Editor or Proprietor, on
matters connected with the establishment,
must be post paid in ordeirtd secure attention
Notice of the sale ofLnttd and Negroes, by
Administrators, Executors, or Guardians,
must be published sixty days previous to the
day or' sale.
The sale of personal Property, in like manner,
must be published forty days previous to
the day es sale.
Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate must
be published forty days.
Notice that Application will be made to the Court
V»f Ordinary for Leave to sell Land or Ne
groes, must be published four months.
Notice that Application will be made for Letters
jo administration, must be published thirty
days and Letters of Dismission, six months.
PROSPKCTIJS
OF THE
THIS paper formerly edited by Win. E.
Jones, is now under the direction of the
undersigned. The growing importance of Ath
ens, ths state of parties in Georgia, and the
agitation cf certain questions having a direct
influence on southern interests; render it neces
sary that the northwestern |Mi%of Georgia
should have some vigilant, faithful sentinel
always on the watch tower, devoted to a strict
construction ofthetrue spirit ofthe constitution,
the maintainance ofthe rights and sovereignty
bf the States, the retrenchment of executive
patronage, reform, and a strict accountability
ot ail public officers; moderate, yet firm and
decided in his censures, “ nothing extenuate or
setdown ought in malice,” —to expose prompt
ly abuses mid when and jyhereevr
d i sc o v e re d—st i
poses to V-ojfl
the most
conuic'.i il <4 - ... '
the
gmal <:rlicles. a.’flr
popular works of
meats nf Liter ,1 the rts.
To Georgians the undersigned is conscious
he appeals not in vain for an increase of patron,
age—and he respectfully asks the friends of
Constitutional liberty to make tin effort. to ob
tain subscribers.
The Southern Whig is puhlldheß weekly in
Athens Georgia, at Three Dollars per an ttm
payable in advance, Three Dollars and fifty
Cents if not paid within six months, or Four
if not paid until the end ofthe vear.
J. W. JONES.
Administrator’s Sale.
UNDER an order of the Inferior Court ot
Gwinnett county, when sitting for ordina
ry purposes, will be sold on the first Tuesday
iti January next, at Lawrenceville, within the
Usual hours ot sale,
Fifteen Ukely J¥eg‘rocs )
Consisting ol six Itirtre Fellows (one a jrood
Black-Smith,) women, house girl.<(very likely)
and children.
Also seven Lots i:: the town of latwrencevrlle,
to wit: No. S 3 with a TaVerii-hoilse Well situ
ated for the business, Nos. 25, 49, 50, 67, and
halfof Lots Nos. 48, and 77.
Also the following Lots of Land. Nos. 8 25,
and 130, in the 7th district, Nos. 173 and 206,
find part of Lots Nos. 113, 144,117, 174 and 175,
in the sth district, all in Gwinnett county, be
longing to the estate of James Wardlaw late of
said County, dec’d. sold for the benefit of the
heirs of said deceased. Terms made known on
tiie dav.
C. HOWELL, Adni’r.
do bonis non.
Oct. 29, —26—tds
AT tlie late meeting of the Alliuini of Frank
lin College, it was unanimously resolved to
be expedient to make arrangements to issue a
.Monthly Literary Magazine, to be called
THE AT HE NLEX.
The undersigned were appointed by the So
ciety a committee of publication and joint Edi
tors of the work, until the next meeting of the
Society. We have no interest in the work, ex
cept that which we take in the welfare of the
country and honor of the State. We, of the j
South, have too long depended upon foreign ;
parts forour Literature, and neglected our own
talents. We shall he weak so lottg as we think
we are weak: and dependent until wc. make ef
forts to be independent. We hope all the friends
of Literature in the State, and especially the
Alumni of Franklin College, will patronize tlie i
enterprise both by word and deed. State pride
the love of Literature, our interest in the cause
of general Education, all call upon us to sustain
an enterprise so necessary to our improvement,
und the honor ofihe State.
A. S. CLAYTON,
JAMES JACKSON,
R. D. MOORE,
WM. L. MITCHELL,
C. F. MpCAY,
SAMUEL P. PRESSLEY,
H. HULL.
The Athenian shall issue monthly, on fine
paper, stitched and covered in pamphlet form, !
and shall contain sixty-four pages royal octavo. !
Nothing derogatory to religion, offensive to nay |
denomination of Christians, or of any political i
partv, shall appear in the Athenian. Its pages ;
shaft be honestly devoted to general Literature, j
the cause of Education, the Review of new '
works, and notices of improvements in Science, i
Arts and Agriculture. Price Five Dollars per I
annum, pay able on the delivery of the first num, I
her. i
J 7'OUR months.after date application will be .
made to the Honorable the Inferior Court:
of Clark enunty, when sitting for ordinary pur j
poses, for leave tpsell nil the Lands belonging to
the Estate of the Orphans of Henry Houze
'lee’d., for the benefit of the Orphans of said
deceased.
DARIAS T. HOUZE, Guar.
Sept. 10, 19 Im
MW "BLANKS
For Sale at this Office.
>©««««
From the Knickerbocker.
LINES TO A HiIEXB
ON BEING REQUESTED TO SINO ‘ OFT IN THE STIL
LY NIGHT’ BEFORE A FASHIONABLE EVENING
PARTY.
Oh give not to the heartless crowd
That pensive, thrilling song !
’Tis felt not by the cold, the proud,
Os Fashion's giddy throng.
The pathos of that melting lay
They have not soul to feel;
Unknown to mirth and spirits gay
The grief those words reveal.
Sing it to sooth the wearied heart,
' Pained by the callous world;
That oft has found its joys depart—
Its hopes to ruin hurled.
Oh ! sing it not in bright saloon,
Or halls of pride and power;
But breathe it when the Crescent moon
Illumes the evening heur.
And shouldstthou e’er, with care-worn heart,
On chddhood’s green haunts gaze,
Then sing, while memories sad impart
The 1 light of other days.’
At ‘ stilly night,’ should memory bring
The loved, the lost to mind,
Hush thy deep sighs, and gently sing—
Thus shiilt thou solace find.
Then waste not on the giddy throng
Those tones to sorrow dear,
But sacred keep that thrilling song,
The drooping heart to cheer. a.
From the Saturday Courier.
THE RIVAL S IS T E R .
BY 11. E. M.
Who has travelled through New Eng
land, and not admired the many beautiful
villages on the banks of the still mofe beau
tiful Connecticut, the Jordan of that fa
voured land 1 And who has not uncon
sciously paused to admire the lovely vil
lage of Woodfield? It is situated on the
eastern bank of the river, and is nearly
surrounded by a chain of irregular hills.
Its little white cottages are so neat, and
have such an air of comfort and happiness,
that they seem to invite the traveller to
stop and admire their humble beauties;
and the white village spire, as it rises in
dignity above the cottages, seems to point
of rest. But there is a certain
this village which should not
* s s ' luate d on an eleva-
-? by gardensand plea-
house itselfis a large
a piazza extending
along its southern and western sides.—
-i 1 1 is'ts -trre TCSlCTefice of Squire Wilmot,
the richest man in Woodfield, who has been
a senator, and. as the election is approach
ing, the villagers look knowingly at each
other, and say he will make an excellent
governor.
But our business is hot with the good i
Squire; it is with his favorite, the little
Isadore Wilmot, now ten years old. She
has bright blue eyes, a lovely face, and the
form of a sylph; and as she trips lightly
by old David Jones' cottage, he says. “'Mis's
Isadore will one day make the hearts go
pit-pat, I am pretty sure of that.”
Wherever Isadore goes, she is accom
panied by William de Forest, the son of
their nearest neighbour, who is alout five
years older than herself. He is tall and
handsome, and some years ago, as he row
ed his little playfellow in bis boat, or ram
bled in the neighbouring woods with her
in search of wild dowers, he used to tell
her that he wished he was her brother:
but ifhe should now say so, Isadore would
blush so deeply, and look so uncomfortable,
that it would pain him.
The father of William was a poor man,
who might have been wealthy ifhe chose;
but, unlike most of his countrymen, he had
neither sufficient enterprise nor ambition.
Farmer de Forest’s cottage was about a
quarter of a mile from the Squire’s house;
and it is perfectly natural that their chil
dren should associate. If some scrupu
lous city misses should chance to cast their
eyes upon this, they would perhaps say
that a young miss like Isadore Wilmot
should not be a companion for William de
Forest, the son of a village farmer; but I
can assure them that her manners were as
far from ungentecl as their own, and there
was not a more dignified person in the vil
lage than William, not excepting the good
parson, or the Squire himself, Isadora’s
little heart had never felt that odious pas
sion, pride; she had a sort of innate digni
ty about her, which distinguished her from
the villagers' children.
About the time that William w as fifteen,
his father received a visit from a rich
brother, a merchant in the city of New
\ork. He had come for the express pur
pose of taking one of his brother’s children j
home with him, who he would adopt ami '
treat as his own child, and, as he had no j
children, would of course inherit
menso property. Being nmchj)h«||H
i with William, he beggc<l
■ parents, who
but they ‘
tage, and ajgjF?.' -
gave
' jTmitil;
twent<'" thorn,
hisnatfL •' 7s ihe school;
was or® » -- * ■! J William Was |
athomTl. ... neglect- j
ed an oML.. • ,' *
’y[ u . heels of t:me
soon \ h' s twentieth year.
There yOl,n J ‘F"
in the school than tic Forest arid alter ;
his return to stay a few weeks at. home, i
as he and Isadorc weic seen waikiyg to-1
gefher. the fond parents of cacn thought .
there was not. a better match in thgworld,
and old David Jones, who was tiefod for j
his prophecies, said Isadorc would certain" i
Iv be Mrs.de Forest.
The dav liefcre that (in which William :
. was to take leave of Woodfield, he shoul- ;
dered his gun and, calling his dog, started
, for a hunting excursion. He was ram-
••WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH II-
bling almost unconsciously, when, taking
a sudden turn, he saw Isadore gathering
- Howers at the side of a stnall rivulet, which
meandered through the town. She raised
her eyes to him with a sweet smile, when
observing that he looked extremely de
jected, inquired if he was ill. Without
answering her question, he looked fondly
down upon the lovely creature who stood
beside him.
“ Isadore,” said he, “ shall you ever think
of me when I am gone ?”
Her eyes were cast down, and a crim
son blush overspread her face, as she said,
“ I think I shall.”
“ Shall you never think of me with as- 1
j section ?—never !”
i This was too much-—and after stam- !
| mering a moment, she gathered all the I
composure possible, as she answered,
“ Oh ! yes, 1 shall ever remember you as
a dear brother, who is far away.”
She covered her face with her hand
kerchief, to conceal, if possible, her emo
tion.
“ It is enough,” said de Forest, as he be
stowed a kiss upon her burning forehead,
and darted into the woods.
The next rising sun saw him on his way
to New York with his uncle. This was
the first real sorrow that Isadore, now at
the sweet age of sixteen, had known.*—
There had been no cloud to darken the
bright morn of life: it had glided away in
innocence and happiness. She dreamed
not that this life at best is one of doubt and
sorrow; she thought not of hopes blasted,
crushed, destroyed. She fondly cherish
ed the passion which had taken such deep
root in her heart, and doubted not that it
was reciprocal.
She knew de Forest was to return to his
native place in two years, and, though this
, seemed a long time, she was constantly
I dwelling upon delightful anticipations of
I the future. One year passed happily: she
sung, played, and was attentive as ever to
her governess, who was to cease her care
in a short time.
The last year her peace was disturbed
by a person, who has not once been men
tioned. This was Helen Wilmot, the half
sister of Isadore, and the only child of
I Squire Wilmot’s first wife. Isadore knew
not what to think of this new sister; but,
judging from her own happy disposition,
her imagination painted her all she could
wish her Jo be. On the contrary, Miss
Helen-expected to find in her sister (who
was two years younger than herself) a
country rustic, who did nothing but jump
fences and climb rocks. The reason of
her forming the false opinions Were, that
the aunt, with whom she had resided from
infancy, was a weak, foolish woman, and
represented her sister in this manner, in
order to persuade Helen to stay with her,
fur sTFe-fTHen-exprcsscd a wislTto return"
to the north. But this aunt was now dead,
and Helen was the heiress of her property.
The sisters were mutually surprised: Isa
dore to find in her sister a haughty, over
bearing lady, who at first scarcely conde
scended to notice her; and Helen to find
Isadore a perfect picture of beauty and
loveliness—and, as she observed her move
ments, she thought to herself that the gra
ces wquld have been happy to have re
ceived her into their number. After a
more particular acquaintance, Helen found
to her mortification that
(■'■lieu h> r in a-c-’in >| a
she con.-iocivd
<’ conceived it the more v*
j had received her education in a fashiona
i ble city, while her sister had scarcely seen
j one.
Isadore had never spoken to her sister
; of AV illiam de Forest; but in a conversa
; tion between some of her acquaintance,
i she overheard the name of de Forest, and
a lover es Isadora’s, and something con
, cermng-his being absent, but she knew not
what.
As they were one day walking togeth
er, Helen observed to her sister that she
was much surprised at her rejecting the
particular addresses of Walcott, (a young
student.) for, said she, his father is wealthy,
and you certainly could have no objection
to bis finer person and finer mind.
“I have my own private reasons for it,”
| said Isadore,
I They had not walked much farther,
I when they came to an arbour which Wil
i liam, when a boy, had made for Isadore.
■ The vines which he had planted had now
I overgrown the top so as entirely to ex
; elude the scorching sunbeams, and thither
the sisters retired to rest themselves. This
beautiful arbour was situated at the foot
of a hill, bvjvhich a little rivulet murmur
ed, and waning could be more delicious
than thi/fich purple fruit suspended from
The eye of Helen rested upon
the initials W. F. and I. W., which were
engraven upon the seat.
“Sister,” said she, addressing Isadorc,
“is it possible that this de Forest, the son
j of our indigent neighbour, is a lover of
' yours? Now 1 know your private rea
i sons for refusing Walcott: where may his
brpnilemnnshio now be ? I suppose the
of his Isadora cheer him as he
master’s cows home, or follows
in the field. I should like Wal-
.-x -Bins favoured rival.”
jjt*. overcome by painful emotions.
■MMfled not this Unfeeling address, Wc
Dvitneavc the sisters enjoying their usual
; excursion, and follow the steps of de Forest
i to his new home.
' Immediately on his arrival in the city,
i he was introduced into gay parties, the
1 brilliancy of which gradually effaced the
: impressions of home. His healthful exte
rior gained him many heartless admirers.
'or .such as the world calls frieffds. He was
the admiration of one sex and the envy
iof the other, 'j'he influence of fell this was
i great upon the before-secluded country
' boy: but sometimes in the stillness ol night
' (a fit time for reflection) his thoughts turn
led to his home and Isadorc. He thought
| of those expressive blue eyes, softened with
I an express-ion which required no skill to
I read; he thought of his parents and the
i friends of his yu»th«—but time wore awav
; even these happy recollections,and by the
time tic returned to his native place, Isa-
VE NOT BEEN DELEGATED. Ant-. - ~_
JON OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL RExMED Y. Jefferson
ATHENS, WEOJK-
dore, withall .. '"ion which might
forgotten, and his i&. °
receive any new *
be made. ’ < ter
#** *
It was a pleasant evening, in the la-,
part of May, that the stag? set down a pas
senger at the cottage of Mr. de Forest.
This arrival was evidently not unexpected,
and many and happy were (>.’ faces, that
welcomed the young traveller at ‘ a ‘
ther’s door.
The nextmorning found William de
Forest rambling around his father’s cot
tage. The scenes of his childhood remind
i ed him of her long neglected, long forgot
ten. With a feeling of self-reproach and
great embarrassment, he ascended the hill
which led to the residence of Squire Wil
mot, He was goon in the presence of He
len and Isadore. He met the former as
an old acquaintance, but the latter with
the air of the, man of fashion. An hour
passed rapidly, and de Forest departed,
saying he would call in the evening.
Helen’s astonishment exceeded all
bounds: she declared she never saw such
a fascinating man in her life, and told Isa
dore she thought he was superior even to
Walcott.
According to his promise, de Forest
called again in the evening—and before
the end of the day he was completely
charmed with Helen Wilmot. She had
chatted, played, sung, and entirely entrap
ped him, and that was just what she
wished.
After de Forest was once more at his
home, he observed to his sister that Helen
Wilmot was a splendid girl, for he could
find no other expression to define her daz
zling charms.
“ I think Isadore much the prettiest girl,”
said his sister Theresa.
“ I know you do not,” said de Forest;
“you only wish to be contrary.”
Reader, this is an example of the incon
stancy of man; but we will make all possi
ble allowance for this fickleness on the part
of William. Helen was an accomplished
city belle, well versed in the arts of coquet
ry and of entrapping fickle hearts. De
Forest had been accustomed to hear the
country ladies ridiculed (by his gay com
panions,) and their honest awkwardness
made a subject forunfeeling sport. It w r as
prejudice that led him to prefer Helen, but
his sober reason made him prefer Isadore.
The unhappy girl saw his marked coldness
towards her; the arrow of disappointment
pierced her heart, and the wound never
healed,
Did Isadora’s jealously cause her to hate
her sister, to treat her with contempt ?
No—far from it; her noble soul was above
that passion. She knew that the
stings of conscience would one day be
•□udi per liilui iiie caßerest Cumedlpi."” " ■
She was one bright summer evening sit
ting at her window; the moon shone bril
liantly on all around; and as she looked
upon the silvered landscape—the scenes
of her happy days, now fled forever—
tears of bitter anguish fell fast from eyes
once as brilliant as the jewelry of heaven.
How powerful too, to hearts that mourn,
The magic of that moonlight sky.
To bring again the vanish’d scenes.
The happy eves < f days gone by:
Again to bring, ’mid bursting teafs.
The loved, the lost of other years.
been long in a deep reverie,
■h|) awoke her. It w:ts her sis
in tlio direction of the
s~ound, and saw Helen leaning fondly upon
the arm of the tall and graceful de Forest.
Isadore dried her tears, and, concealed by
a kind of curtain from theirview, saw them
approach the very spot where she had
parted from de Forest. She heard a low
murmur from him, as if speaking to Helen;
then kissing her beautiful brow, they ad
vanced towards the house. At that mo
ment Isadora thought she never saw her
sister more beautiful: her face was radiant
with smiles, a row of pearls glistened on
her forehead, and her white frock looked
like an emblem of innocence.
What shall wc think of the Cruel girl who
would thus willingly take away her sister’s
happiness? It was perfidy, cruel perfidy;
but selfishness l.ad always been her ruling
passion, and now, that so great a tempta
tion offered itself, it was not to be resisted.
As Isadore laid her throbbing head on
her pillow that night, she prayed to beta
ken from a world where she was doomed
to disappointment. An assumed air of
cheerfulness ill concealed the worm at her
heart. The slight tinge of vermilion, that
bad formerly adorned her cheek, had fled;
the light bounding step, and the unrivalled
beauty of her eye, had departed-—perhaps
for ever. It was the wasting storm that
fell with a deadly weight upon her tender
affections which caused this.
In one year from that time de Forest and
Helen Wilmot were united, and that hour
saw the once beautiful Isadore a maniac,
Iler feeble frame could not survive the
shock; she died— a victim to man’s incon
stancy.
Though William was faithless, the death
of Isadore was a shock from which he nev
er recovered Helen died in a few years
after her marriage, and the happiness of de
Forest was forever destroyed By the con
viction that he was a murderer/
Newspapers.— A ent-respondent ofihe Phila
d. l.ihia Commercial Herald, writes'very sensi
bly to this effic'i
‘Few pirents k.’.ow the itrtpnrtanCe of a
newspapef til. their children; The inclination'
I had io read, I well recollect, was brought
about by hearing the trial of Colonel Burr for
treason, talked of .and seeing that trial reported
i-i the new: papir which my father then took.
Having become interested io the nfi.ur, I al
ways seized the news-p ipcr ; >a ff ß arrival, with i
avidity, and read the co.’.iinuaii an of th? tri.-1. !
Bat few, p -rhaps not another p.p-r was the. j
taken in (he ncighborli.oo.lia which I hv?<i;
and t e consrqil .-i.cn was lb,it [ i fan .11
knew much more of what was going on -in. th.-.-
world titan my school a id piayrnatl-.i. a.n 1 eon
sequem’y bnc-.mm the m-acl-e ofonr Utile cir
cle. This gf-iti:;; .1 mo., ami I saw at once
the arl- ivitage of fending, thorn-.h l was ihen
but ten years old. From that day to tills I
have never been Without a n'cvspapei-, and may
attribute my sucea ss i >. life totlrj.?.vircnfnstancc.
'*JIA, 31, 8 836.
gentle loveliness, was
’’hless heart ready to
■r<» A NAxUEtEss o WE .
BY MRS PERR ixg.
I have wander’d where the woodbine
Its choicest perfume throws,
' here the jessamine mingled sweetly
Its fragrance with the rose-
Where oak and elm, entwining
“ ir graceful foliage, made
Is. ■’ s cloudles shining.
In noerf-®*., dcome shade.
—kind afit? vv-..,
"'c river
I have wander’d
- wild meander tak “ a ’
lt * murmur ,'' cr ’
By brooxs v»_ .. v ] a k eß ,
By bright and snuu., -thing,
Where nature’s softness hre-.
The melody of love,
Hot, n—ort r.n-id the -rrrvTrthJ—g'
Os branches high above.
I have wandsr’d silent, lonely,
Among these scenes of joy ;
For one dear object only
Could then my thoughts employ ;
And seperated from thee.
Creation’s brightest beam
Fell cheerless—cold upon me.
As the glaring meteor’s gleam.
The woodbine softly twining
Its limbs with the rose;
The sunny fountain shining,
With oak and elm inclose;
The merry songsters singing
Their notes of love and bliss;
The gentle streamlet winding
The way where flow’rets kiss.
The river’s wild meander ;
The cool transparent lake,
Where fleecy clouds that wander
Their fair impressions make ;
One moment could not sever
Thine image from my breast:
My spirit, dove-like, ever
Would seek its native rest.
I have stray’d o’er barren mountains,
Where nature had denied
Clear rills, or gushing fountains,
Or lofty forests’ pride;
I felt not sad or weary—
For, loved one, thou wert nigh.
And prospects dark and dreary
Grew bright beneath thine eye.
Yes, sorrow’s brow is calm, love,
Less sad affliction’s tear,
When, like a holy balm, we feel
A kindred spirit, near,
And while with rapid pinion
Time wings his noisless way,
Affection’s sweet dominion
Shall bless each happy day.
From the Knickerbocker*
THE FL YIN 6 DUTCHMAN.
A SKETCH.
■WTItE-ktfTHOR ot 1 jacß AfAllLlJsrtKlJ'M Wil?/'
‘ THE ESCAPE,’ ETC.
The sun was setting in a sea of clouds,
while his yellow beams glared forth thro’
their many embrazures like the rays of
some mighty conflagration through' the
walls that enclosed it, Huge masses of
heavier and darker vapor were piling up
to windward, and lighter scuds were seen
hurrying wildly across the heavens. The
sea grew blacker, and dashed against the
firm sides of the Great Frederick with a
deep, hollow hoarseness, and the breeze
came fresher and colder across the agita
ted expanse. Still the gallant ship con
tinued to move along under her top-gal
lant canvass, and it was not until every
thing indicated a heavy and instant blow,
that the veteran skipper concluded to take
another reef in the top-sails.
There was one fair being on board the
ship who had never before beheld the ele
ments in so terrible a convulsion. Lean
ing on the arm of her father, she stood
upon the quarter-deck, listening with awe
to the roaring of the wind, as it howled
through the cordage, and the thunders of
the deep, as each wave rolled over its pre
cursor. At times, a vivid flash from some
overcharged cloud would light up the
scene with terrible splendor; and it was
then that all the tearful magnificence of the
tempest became apparent; and the fair girl
would tremble witii affright, as she saw
each giant wave above her threatening
to all certain destruction in its descent.
‘We are now off the Cape of Good
Hope,’ said the father, ‘and it is in these
latitudes that one of our unhappy ances
tors is doomed to cruise until the last day.’
The daughter shuddered at the recollec
tion of her mysterious relative, and only
grasped her parent’s arm in reply.
All this while the Great Frederick had
been before the wind, dashing onward at
a tremendous rate. The commander him
self was at the wheel, watching each com
ing wave with anxiety, and disposing the
rudder to receive its shock without/preju
dice to the huge fabric it guided. The
braces were kept manned fore and aft, so
that in case the ship broached to, she might
be restored to her former course with the
necessary promptitude. The pumps, too,
were rigged, the hatches battoned down,
and, in short, every precaution was taken
which the safety ofthe ship required. At
length the gale increased to a perfect hur
ricane, and the commander determined to
bring the ship by the wind, as he was fear
ful of her being brought by the lee, which
must have proved her immediate destruc
tion. This delicate manoeuvre was suc
cessfully performed, and the Great Frede
rick was now placed with her huge bows
toward the direction of the wind and sea,
in comparative security for the remainder
ofihe night.
One of those long-continued gleams of J
lightning, that seems to make every thing j
' as brilliant as itself, flashed over the heav- !
; ens. and discovered to the startled cre'V
j another and a heavier ship to windward,
anti close aboard. The mformatir.n was
conveyed by twenty voices at the same
moment, and every one Strained his vision
to observe more closely the form of ihe
stranger. Four or five, successive flashes
sb,.-.wed her to be a heavy Dutch East tn
dlaman, under her maintop-sail, close reef
ed, fore-top-mast, stay-sail, and mizzen.
I It was observable, too.that her construction
I was of a more ancient order of naval ar
! chitecture. Her stern rose unusually buffi
from the level of the sea, and he/bot
sprit had a more than ordinary steeve- but
w lat most added to the surprise of those
on board of the Great Frederick, was see-'
mg a boat push from the side of the stran- )
ger, and row m the direction of their own 1
p ’ akhou gH the Bea was ™nhing with a i
fearfulness that threatened certain destruc-
Don to those who, in so frail a thing should :
dare attempt to cross its surface ° Every I
moment was looked for as productive £
deatn to those in the boat; but the little
vessel rose and fell with safety, and in a
few moments was seen pulling up under
tlm quarter of the Frederick. iVa word
1 -i d tS e "a?n ken board of the la “er. so
- one IC bm tOn t nt and anx3el y •
gave theoruj’ .I'? ‘ he f re for M for
the boat I’ and dark forras *»oved |
to obey. The ready was cast and | ’
caught, and a tall form spfnng X™m tlle :,
stern-sheets of the boat, and ascender , tfie ! j
gangway. The stranger, on gaining the » _
deck, paused for a moment, and by the
light of the side-lanterns, it was observed
that he was attired in a costume as antique
in fashion as the construction of the ship
to which he belonged. His features were
pereeived to be dark and stern, although
but imperfectly seen, as he wore a slouch
ed hat,
4 Where are you bound?’ asked he* in
a deep and hollow voice.
‘To Amsterdam,’ answered the com
mander of the Great Frederck.
* Will you do me the favor to deliver this
packet at Amsterdam ?’
The captain replied in the affirmative;
and taking the proffered bundle, invited
the stranger below.
If there was any thing appalling in the
features of the stranger, as seen by the
dim and transient glare of the lanterns on
deck, it was rendered doubly so by his re
moving his hat, and exposing them to the
glare of the cabin lamp. His eyes were
black and glowing, though sunken far in
his head, and his face was of a bluish tinge:
his whole countenance was supernatural,
and each feature betrayed excess of sor
row and fatigue. The'father started back
aghast, and the daughter shrieked in ter
ror. The commander of the Great Fre
derick, too, retreated apace, and looking
alternately from the stranger to the pack
et which he still held, exclaimed, in a voice
ofhorror:
‘*Tis Vanderdecken, and we are lost 1’
The mysterious visitant spake not a
word; but uttering a deep sigh, lifted the
fainting maiden, and gazed long and ear
nestly in her face. At length he spake,in
a voice soft yet sepulchral:
- ‘ That face,’ said he, * was just like her's
■ririrh r',G,a nerr.mgyriwgTrgLc—
hair, hervery tresses—and those blue eyes,
by my soul 1 were hers.’
1 he stranger paused a moment, as if re
tracing the records of memory: at length,
shaking his head as if he had been disap
pointed in the search, he asked the terri
fied maiden her name. She replied, and
the mysterious inquisitor started as if a
thunder-bolt had fallen at his feet. A soft
er expression came over his blow—and
gazing earnestly at her features, he seem
ed to read with avidity each line of her
countenance. Long and anxiously he gaz
ed; and at length, stooping down; he said:
‘ Ellen, I am your ancestor, and have one
favor—one blessing—to ask of you. lam
doomed to a horrible destiny, but you may
save, me.”
‘ What shall I do ?’ asked the terrified
girl.
The stranger was about to reply, but a
fierce growl of thunder rolled across the
heavens. Again he essayed to speak, but
the same fearful warning interrupted him.
He wrung his hands for a moment in ago
ny, and listening until the last reverbera
tion had died away, turned once more to
address the shrinking maiden: but not,
crash after crash of heavy thunder broke
above their heads, flashes of blue lightning
sported through the skies, and the wind
howled with tenfold violence through the
cordage.
‘ I come ! I come 1’ shrieked the stran
ger: and turning a last look of melancholy
fondness toward the lovely being before
him, he seized the packet which he had
given the commander ofthe Great Frede
rick, and rushing up the ladder, threw him
self into his boat, and was a moment after
seen rising and sinking with the motion of
the billows.
Suddenly th?: sea went down—the rain
ceased-—the wind abated—the clouds broke
up in the heavens, and the elements were
again at peace.
R. B.
Tt> POVEBTir,
st JOHN C. MOSSIk.
Hail sacred Pove rt y ! —the men of old,
Among their thirty thousand deities.
Have ranked thee not—stern mother of’the bold
In thought and deed ! —when hath a son of
ease,
And opulence with tongue, pen, lyre or sword,
Equalled tljy daring prog< ny—adored
By me thou art and Shalt be tbo’ the P'artli
Sustain no fellow worshipper—my birth
Thou with Lucina, Goddess ! —did ?■ d;
Thy po .v’r my youth directed—it hath nerved
Aiitii/early manhood, and until grey age
Shall claim me for his own, by thee preserved
From sloth inglorious—r U a nv a üße f u j page,
I trust, will prove that Fenury and Pain
Have not my fosier-r.arents been m vain.
—Hartford lie vie
*1 he ni)nc\ed beautiful and, as we happen to
know, ju'.tly applied lines, are m truth, what they
purpe ;-t to be, an improjnptu by a gifted pen, sug.
go'uted by a casual conversation.
[on a lady who is said to refrain habitvally
FROM ALL EVIL SPEAKING.]
Blest are tlfo lips that open but to bless 1
That never yet the gentle heart belied !
Still prompt to smile, to praise, or to caress—
Awl ever slow to censure or to chide •
Blest shall they b« on earth by all who hear,
Nor their■♦oration Charge in heaven above!
For whatd^nngol-lipsin that bright sphere
But sing of praise, of mercy, and of love !
—.V. Fork American.
Vol, IV—N©. 35.
- from the A. y. Cemmircidl Advertiser.
. . BLELVF.S.
It is some W l )at refreshing, as the fashion
jab e , I(>ve] st ?se<) sav/jo perceive thfl
i beer d banishment that has
'aiTQin fTi re,?d and carr j®d into execution
; aga nst hose vast, unsight.lv, ridiculous and
■nmioral bags, Whirji it has been the plea*
I sisAin. adies ’ (^ !e9s their hearts, to in
-I*h ' n I Qnr rec,) gnizing as sleeves, for
the last three or four years. The ner*
wa3no ‘
unreasonable, when he made the unhappy
aud starving Catharine swear that the
’ moon was in truth “the blessed sun,” and
perhaps it was from him that the hint was
borrowed. Be that as it may. they are
gone, bag and baggage, and WTSeHes are
ino longer compelled to walk the streets,
as though suffering the penalties of justice,
with eight or ten pounds of silk, chally*
gros-de-s>>mething, muslin, merino, Cir
cassian, Canton crape, barege, white satin,
printed calico, or pelissee cloth, dangling
fram each shoulder; or to exhibit thetn
sctv-JS with a pair of feather-pillows stuck
ypon etteh side of their graceful figures,
and fr*’ surpassing them in magnitude,
The day oi” 5b e * l -et High and six feet wide,
is gone, we £irever, and hencefor
ward we hope to see tos~B§atfliful of our 1
race resembling somewhat iTg-rC in ap
pearance the model in which nature form-*
ed them, and which French milliners have
so longsucceeded in keeping otjt of fashion,
The transition has been, as tt ual in fash*
ionable matters, somewhat violent; the
poet’s notion of “fide by degrees and beau*
tifully less.” has not been thought of* but
where there was yesterday a bale, there
is to-day a spermaceti candle—the ten
yards of last night are replaced this morn*
ing by some half ell, or perhaps a quarter*
One lady was a sufficient occupant, a week
ago, for the seat of a moderate sized car*
riage—now three may ride quite pleasant*
ly in company. Arms are at a tremen
dous discount compared with what they*
have been; and shoulders aie like Indii*
rubber balls with the air let out through
a pin-hole. Al! this looks queer, just now,
and will stay looking queer for soma time
yet, but after a while our eye's will receive
their right tone, and then we shall applaud
the change most heartily. Nevertheless,
we beseech our fair readers not too sud
denly to run int > the other extreme, and
compress the arm entirely up to the shoub
der, as some have already done—thereby
giving tlfemselves somewhat the resem
blance of the undresse ■ dolls in the pack*
ages of Bailly A* Ward—or like a giblet
pie, all wings and legs.
JOHN KANFOUriHI V.-' ARISTOCRACY.
Mr Randolph was p ssi g through Mary,
land, on the day after a warmly contested
“i'.'J'i’.r.'ft. A ””"s. T)..);'.""■ .'0 “'i lier uie ’
ratur >s from a part pi’ ffie Eastern Shoya
came in. Thev were favorable to the party
to which Mr, Ra dolph then belonged.— >“l
knew,” s:iid he t<> a hiead,“that those old
counties a:i the E'lat'.ni Shore wiaild ga'ngflt.-
' The people of old Ke;>t, Soim rset, Dorset
drink apple .oddv out ot the china bowls that
b-longed to their grand fathers. “People'
ih. tdo that are always right.” “But what
do you sav of Cecil co J.ity,* - Mr. Randolph?”
“Cecil, ’’replied the Cynic, ‘Cecil’—extending
his long bony finger, with a gesture of eon*
tempt — ‘'Cecil—rather fislvj; ’’
Is she Engaged?’ is a qn-'stiq'n not unfre--
quently mooted touehi :g interesting young'
ladies. It’s n pity some generally received
sign,bearing upon the question, could not bd
adopted bv the sex. It would satisfy a very
nitural curiosity and might not be to the dis
advantage of the ladies. I t a dissenting
Chapel i t E .gland, a foreigner noticed the
ladies bows on their bonnets oddly
some o>i the left and oth< rs on the right sides
while others were directly i t front. It Wasf
found on enquiry, that marri d Indies had
the bow on the ri jbt side tort tg ffiaidens On
the left andt.ho.se ‘eng iged’ wore them on the
front of thrir bonnets. A in iinfestation of
this kind would give much needless solicitude
and anxious enquiry among those gentlcmenf
who are candidates for Matrirnony.— North*
ampton Cour.
A Musical Dog.—There are many ex
traordinary anecdotes, of the capabilities,
and qualities oft his noble animal, but none
that we have met draw more largely ttport
credulity than the following front the Bos
ton Evening Journal, of rhufsday last.
The feats here spoken of were performed
the week previous.
This dog has been taught by his master
a variety of amusing tricks. Among oth-r
ers, he will at his master’s bidding select
from a pile of various articles and depo
site at his master’s feet, any one which
he is told, thus proving that he has mores
general knowledge of human language
than is usually enjoyed by brines. He Will
also dance to music, and perform with
grace, either a waltz or a solo, according
to reqinst; if tb® former, he will seize his
tail in his month and pefforUi vtfftous evo-'
lotions unti l the music ceases. If a solo is
requested, he Will rear himself upon his
hind legs and perform the double shuffle.-
The latest trick taught this animal, is to sit
upwright and produce a harmony upon •
harp by drawing, his fore paws across th<
strings.
The dog proved a more practicable schol
lar in learning this, than in either of the
other accomplishments. One afternoon,-
last week, the master while oil the point
of entering his room-, was astonished at
hearing the sound of the harp. He had
the curiosity before opening the door, to
look through the key hole, and endeavor
to ascertain who was practising upon hi«
harp. There, to his great astonishment,
sat Fido am isimr himself ny rthcnrsing his
morning lession upon the instrnment;
Several people were immediately called
and saw tlie dog; sitting in the position in
which he had been taught, and performing
for nearly ten minutes upon the harp!
lieresy in Nine BrunsiviTic —The Kagfon t)a-'
mocrat Sa vs i hat a you .g lady was tried before
ui ecclesiastic. 1 'i-tbiuial in New Brunswick;
'ordfei ' sv. One of the charges against her
was hnviiiff deci?ri-1 th-;I ‘‘there was hut one
God, and that was President