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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