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BY JAMES W. JONES. The Southern Whig, PUBLIS.iaD KV :RY ni’l'llUif MORNISO. TEBxTIS. Three dollars per annum, payable within six months alter the receipt of the fii st number, or fur dollars if not paid within the year, bub scribers living out of the State, will be expect ed in all cases, to pay in advance. ♦io 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, •f their Papers, are requested to bear in iqind, a setts inent of their accounts. Advbbtisements will be inserted at the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered eut. OrJ-Afi Letters to the Editor or Proprietor, on matters connected with the establishment, must be post paid in order to secure attention Notice of the sale of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published sixty nave previous to the day of sale. The sale of personal Property, in like manner, must be published fobty 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 of Ordinary for Leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published four months. Notice that Application will be made for Letters of administration, must be published thirty days and Letters of Dismission, *ix months. For Advertising —Letters of Citation. 8 2 75 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, (40days) 3 25 Four Months Notices, 4 00 Sales of Personal Property by Executors, Administrators, or Guardians, 3 25 ■Sales of Land or Negroes by do. 4 75 Application for Letters of Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cents for every thirteen lines of snrdl type, (or space equivalent,) first insertion, and 50 cents for each weekly continuance. If published every other week, 62 1-2 cents for each continuance. If published once a month, it will be charged each time as a new advertisement. For a single insertion, 81 00 per square. PROSPECTUS OF THE SOTOTEJEBf WSE®. THIS paper formerly edited by Wra. E. Jones, is now under the direction of the Mndersigued. The growingimportance 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, const ru <■ ti<>n ofthe t ruc spi the nianituiuae.ee of tile ( fl| * *’• *>? of the States, the retrekaß ‘ ~ patronage, reform, and a of ail public officers; moderate, decided in his censures, “nothing extenuate setdowu ought in malice,” —to expose pr* mpt ly abuses and corruption when and whereevr discovered—such an one the undersigned pro poses to make the Whig; while it will contain the most authentic and important information connected with our foreign and domestic rela pons, the latest commercial intelligence, ori tiinal articles, and selections from the mos popular works of the day in the various depart! meats of Agriculture. Literature ai d the Arts. To Georgians the undersigned is conscious ),e appeals not in vain for an increase of patron 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 an urn payable in advance, Three Dollars and fifty cents if not paid within six mouths, or Four if not paid until the end of the year. J. W. JONES. ~~ PROSPECTUS. AT the late meeting of the Alumni of Frank lin College, it was unanimously resolved to be expedient to make arrangements to issue a Monthly Literary Magazine, to be called THE ATHENIAN. The undersigneo were appointed by the So ciety a committee of publication and joint Edi tors of the work, until the next meeting of me 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 South, have too long depended upon foreign parts for our Literature, and neglected our own talents. We shall be weak so long as we think we are weak: and dependent until we 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 the 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 nepessary to our improvement, and the honor of the State. A. S. CLAYTON, JAMES JACKSON, K. D. MOORE, WM. L. MITCHELL, C. F. McCAY, SAMUEL P. PRESSLEY, H. HULL. Tme Athbxiax 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 any denomination of Christians, or of any political party, shall appear in the Athenian. Its pages shall be honestly devoted to general Literature, the cause of Education, the Review of new works, and notices of improvements in Science, Arts and Agriculture. Price Five Dollars per annum, payable on the delivery of the first num ber. NEW GOODS. JW. JONES is now receiving and opening at his STORE IN DEARING’S BRICK BUILDING, a general assortment of FALL WINTER GOODS, Which for VARIETY, RICHNESS AND SPLENDOR has not been surpassed by apy stock ever offered in this market. His stock consists of a very general assortment of Staple an«l Fancy Dry Good*, CLOAKS, OVERCOATS, READY MADE CLOTHING, BONNETS, HATS, SHOES, CALF AND WATER PROFF 800 IS, Sperm and Tallow Candles, &c. &e. Oct. 15, —24—ts FOUR mouths after date, application will be m ide to the Honorable Inferior Couit of Clark county, when sitting for Ordinary Rirposea, for leave to sell all the real estate of obert R. Billups, late of Stewart county de ceased. ELIZABETH W, BILLUPS, Ex’r, Nov. 20—30 —4m. Southern Whig Twilight Thoughts. BY DR. JAMES M'HENBY. When fades the glory of the sky In a fair summer even, And whispering spirits flitting by, Remind the soul of heaven: When on the misty purple hills The golden clouds repose, And shadowy paths by murmcring rills, A softening charm disclose; Then is time for those who love, Amidst the silence of the grove To court the bliss the witehing hour sup plies, Exchanging ardent vows and rapture speaking sighs. Now memory to me restores Full many a scene like this:— Visions of youth! your visits pours Through all my feelings, bliss J I think that in my youthful prime, With her loved first and best, I roam in twilights tender time, And am supremely blest. I think that in my native bowers. Once more I spend the blissful hours; While solitude and beauty mingle round, My heart is in a spell of sweet enchant ment bound. O! leave me not, ye heavenly dreams, To age’s chilling sway; But light me with your precious beams. Through lite’s bewildering way O ! let me still the warmth enjoy Os generous feelings strong; Let ardent thoughts my soul employ, as if I yet were young: Enliven age's wintry gloom, With memory of my vernal bloom, Then I’ll defy all earthly care and strife, And bless the gracious Power that sent me into life. iHitwraanrouG. From Frwru/i/iip’j Offering. The Law Suit. BY B. W. COX. It was on the first mr rket.day after I had commenced practice as a solicitor in a town in the west of England, that as I was sitting in my office, poring over the learned Essay of Fearne on Contingent Remainders, and prepa red to receive those who might honor me with their confidence, I heard a knock at the ijoor, and a slow heavy step upon the stairs. Ail who have felt the interest and anxiety with which a young professional man receives the announcement of business, will understand my .egiotioiis when the approach of a visitor di- thoughts from the abstruse doctrines HMSough ,nv i y cs * ts close- 1 deemed that a law book '’'■wWJbt at all diminish the confi- —-if, indeed, such the new comer should prove. The door opened, and presented to me a far. mer, —for such Ins dress declared him. With much suavity of tone, I entreated hirn to be seated, and 'hen set mystlf to hear the case upon which I trusted he was about to consult me. He was a man evidently going down the vale of life, for his hair was touched with th snows of time, and his face was sunken, anti upon it the care of years had chiselled many deep hard lines.—Discountenance betrayed an anxiety which excited in the spectator a feeling of painful interest. A daik eye indicated the s‘range compound of shrewdness and simplicity so remarkable in the English yepm an . His tall and muscular form was beginning to fade, for it was somewhat bent, and the rounded limbs of vonth were yielding to the gnuatness of age. His dress was that of the better class of yeo men, o ly that it p eseited an app-arai.ee of greater neatness and more of the fashion ofthe day, than is generally studied by the sturdy ag riculturist, It was evident that he, and ihos< with whom he lived, were not ignorant of the comforts, nay, of the elegancies, enjoyed by the middle classes of this country. His business was scon declared. He had heard that I was entrusted with several sums of money to be advanced on good security. |le wanted a few hundreds and inquired the terms. My clients bad resolved to lend money onlv on land. I asked him if he coqld offer any. I perceived that his countenance fell as I put the question. “ Land !” he said. “ Yes, sir; I have an es tate, it was my father’s before n;e; but, to be honest with you, the title is disputed. lam even now on the eve of trial.” Further enquiry satisfied me that I could not recommend the loan. I kindly, but frankly told him sq. He almost cried. He did not speak for some moments, but sat with his eyes fixed on the fire, and his body wqying to and fro in a vain struggle to subdue his emotion. I know not what induced him to unbosom him self t» me. Perhaps he gathered from my manner that I sympathized with him. What ever was his motive, he related to me all his troubles. €1 ItUUICOi His ancestors, I learned, had filled the same station in life with hirnseif. His father farmed his ovyn estate, and transmitted it to him, and as he had believed, altogether unincumbered. Shortly before the death of his parent put him in possession of this property, he married an amiable, and, fora fanner’s wife,singularly ac complished girl, a governess at a neighboring school. She had the good sense to accoinmo d te herself to her situation, without altogether abandoning the studies and refinements youth. Under her auspices the assumed a new face; there for the parlour and ihe^«j^»r' music, for the ‘ dwelling ' had blessdpF-? in his gf.-*" ’ seined at home, educated! *• . •■. .* Wtaleut o| their iu- estimablAc ; < , /infused into their young nmK • ? X goodness, trained them up i^^ : - ajatuc, pqlished their manners, iirlk*Jßii'ir intellects. Th eldest was a after her mother, Julia ; she was grown upto be a useful assist- 1 ant to tho failing energies of her parent; but I gathered, that of lute, this favorite child had shown symptoms of disease which had much alarmed her family, The second was a son, Robert, who assisted his father in the manage ment ot the farm, and whose taste for study kept him ever at home fey the fire side, after the day’s labour was done, gleaning knowledge for himself, or imparting his stores to the younger ones. The cither children descended by regular gradations to the little Ellen, who i was a rude, romping, black-eyed tomboy, nine “WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” Jefferson. years old. Excepting only the loss of iheir infant, he said, their passage through life had been one of uninterrupted happiness, —happi- ness too great to be lasting. About twelve months since he had endured a long and se vere sickness, and before he was Well enough to resume Ins daily work, he received notice of an adverse claim to his paternal estate, and, soon after, a declaration in ejeatmeut. His illness had somewhat embarrassed him; but from thjs he soon would have been released by care qnd frugality, had not the expenses of the lawsuit added to his burthens. 11 was to supply the means for trial at the next assizes, tljat he had asked the loan. I really felt a great-interest in his hjstory. and this probably encouraged him so lay be fore me the points of law which fie understood his case involved. His defence was already entrusted to another attorney whom he named ; he could not, therefore, as he would otherwise have done, placed it in my hands ; but he en. treated me to give him the benefit of my as sistance's tar as etiquette would permit, “for,” he concluded, “ifit be lost, nine of us will be ruined. I shall not have a bit of bread for my children to eat.” I promised to give the pa pers my best attention, and to communicate with bis attorney, who, fortunately, was a friend of my otyn, and, with more cheerfulness, he hade me a good morning, I having agreed to see him at his own bouse in the course ofthe ensu ing ivpek. I perused the documents with the greatest ■ care, —I referred to the authonties. —I read all the cases that bore upon the question, and tho’ I could find none precisely in point, the result of the inquiry was an impression that the ad. verse claim was valid. I wrote a long letter to my friend who was conducting the case, apo logizing for the interference, but trusting that the deep interest I felt in the issue of the cause would plead my excuse. I recapitulated to him my own views, and entreated his. By re turn of post, I received a very kind and consid erate reply, assuring me that the writer was de lighted to have the aid of another in a matter of so much responsibility. His opinion, which he gave at length, was certainly more favorable to his client than mine had been, but by no means expressive of confidence in t Joe result.— As I had not very much to claim my care, my thoughts and studies were, for some days, devo ted to this business. I did not forgot my promised visit. A glori ously bright afternoon invited the most slothful abroad, and I, who love n* are devotedly, could not refuse to pay niy court to her on such a day. The farm was situated about four miles from the town, and thitherward I turned my steps, preferring the use of the limbs, which were not intended for idleness, to the lazy mo tion of a Carriage. It was the middle of July, and the weather hot*and close. I selected a '•re so little used, that the grass, long and rank, tutted it all over. A wilderness of flowers waved on the banks on either side of me, and lite long branches oflhe eglantine, entwining over head, formed a shady and cool verandah for the greater portion of my journey. From this lane, I emerged abruptly upon an exten sive prospect, bounded by the hills, and imme diately on my right, perched upon a gentle swell of the earth, was the retreat I Sought. The little hill on whose summit it stood, was planted over with flowering shrubs and ever greens. Ant at row of poplar trees towered at its foot, and a few firs and larches gave the whole an air of gentility seldom seen in the ex. terior adornments oflhe residence of the Eng. lish yeomen. I entered this sweet plantation, and by n path that wound through a multitude of mazes, gained the house itself. It was a substantial stone building of an ancient date, and upon the trellis work w ith which it Was en compassed, were trained the trumpet and the passion flowers, and a magnificent monthly rose now in its full bloom. A clean ’.nd closely shaven grass-plot surrounded it. The view on all sides was perfectly panoramic, and, at this time, inspired feelings which will be understood by all who have ever gazuij from a neighboring height on the rich vale of Taunton, in its luxury of corn fields, and elm groves, and green mea dows. But I had not long to feast niy eyes on this vision of plenty, for the appearance ofmy client himself, followed by two of his little ones, diverted my attention. He welcomed me with that cordial hospitality which is common to those who dwell in the country. I was speedi ly introduced to the home which he had prais ed from his heart jn his interview with w at my office. He had expected my arrival, and the family were all assembl d in the pai|our. The bving whose good taste was impressed upon every tiling around me, was a mild and lady .'ike matron, somewhat more advanced in years than her husband. The daughter of wfiom he had spoken to me with tears, was a loyelvgirl, full of animation and intelligence; but I saw, or thought 1 saw, the hectic hue of j that blight of youth and beauty, consumption, I sighed us I looked at her. The father per ceived my thoughts, and turned to the window. The decorations of the room were simple and elegant—most of them the productions of the various members of the family. Some exqui site paintings in water-colour adorned the wails, a Iwok-case presented the works of our choicest authors, with an excellent selection from mod ern literature, while a piano-forte, and a flute, showed that the delicate pleasures of music were among the amusements of this interest ing family. I spent a delightful eycnimr, not devoted to the weather or the farm-yard, as in most coun try Ik mes, or to scandal, as in towns, but pass, ed m rational discourse, diversified by a reluc tant display of the musical talents of Robert and Julia, who played and sang together with much taste and skill. A rural repast laid out on the grass plot before the door finished the klay. Fruit, a junket and cream, and home a<le cakes, tempted me to indulge in their luxury, aud I departed more deeply ' A'JMhpd t h an cver *" fortunes of aiy host. rißP«?coinpai.ied me about a mile, and snatch- opportunity to ask my opinion of his case. I did not w ish to cloud the cheerfulness of that day, and evaded the question, but his keen per ception was not to be baffled. “Ah!” he said, ‘•you fear the worst. I know it. Well, God, help me and my little ones 1 Yau will not de sert us : the biessing of ad that family will be given to you.” He paused, and 1 endeavored to turn the conversation, calling his attention to i the full moon w Inch was just peeping above the horizon ; but 1 could not divert his thoughts from his own distresses. “Well, sir, be said, “what do you think of Julia ?—Does she not sing sweetly ?—She has had no instructor but hpr expelle. t mother. The dear girl looked better to day t|ian she bad done for weeks p asl > But she is ill, Very ill: did you bear her cough ? Oh, sir! when I hear that cough, it seems as it a dagger was sent through me.” I tried o che> r him but he would not be comforted. “Robert is a noble fellow,” continued the i proud parent, “ high spirited, and yet most £en. ATHEYS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBUARY 4, 1837. do. Though he is fond ol his books, he does not neglect the farm. In the long winter even ings, he reads ai;d playa to us, and we are so happy ! But Wc never may be so again;—Eh : sir ?” 1 could not speak, and, after a short pause, he continued ; “ I wish you Could see us at oui Christmas tea-table; it would do your heart good ! the elder ones at their books or work; my wife teaching the children, and 1, a pleased and happy father, smiling to see tfiem so industri ous, and affectionate. Ah ! sjr, it is a proud thing to be a father.” I wru ig his hand at parting, and when I en tered my lonely chamber, 1 wished myself a father. I saw him repeatedly at my office, and in his own house, previously to the trial, and the more intimate 1 became with this family, the more 1 loved them. But 1 noticed, at every visit, a change in the health and strength of Julia. She declined daily. They all saw it, as well as I, and when the invalid had retired to her chamber, many a tear Was shed by this united family on her ac count. The farmer had wrung from me my real opi nion ofthe case, and it was a sad ,yet a noble sight, to see how he bore up against the fate which he believed to be corning upon him ; how he struggled with sorrow, and made a show of cheerfulness and confidence in the presence of his family. But, though the children did not notice his uneasiness of mind, it did not escape the fond care of his wife. She discovered it almost ere it was known to himself; and she had learned my opinion with a firmness which surprised me, then little acquainted with the energy which women often display, iu the most trying circumstances. The {assizes st length commenced, and I at tended my friend to Wells. The night preced ing the trial, upon which the fortunes of his family depended, he could not sleep. He re peatedly called to ask me some question, or to petnind me es some point which 1 might have forgotten. 1 hud interested myself so deeply in the case, that my restlessness was scarcely less than his. Before da; light 1 wus up, and in deep consultation with my brother lawyer. The farmer sat by my side in the court du. ring the trial. He listened intently to every word that dropped from the witness : he heard the arguments of counsel as if be understood them. He looked at the jury and tried to read the character of each, as he entered the box, and pointed out one to me as a benevolent man, and another as a farmer, who could feel for him and his family; and a third, again, us an unhappy wretch who could not sympathise with the distresses ofthe poor. I did not check the old man in these comments, fur it wap a relief to him from the agitation of suspense. He continually inlerrupted me in the course of the day, to ask what I thought of the result, but I could offer little hope. When the judge proceeded to sum up, my client, who was seated immediately under the bench, rose, and leaning over the surrounding heads, listened to the comments ofthe court. 1 could perceive the colour come apd go upon his lips and cheeks, as the impartial judge pre sei.ted the strong and weak points of the case on both sides. When the jury turned to consider their ver dict, the old man resumed his seat; but he did not for a moment revert his eyes from them, aud so motionless did he sit, that a stranger would have said that he was an unconcerned spectator of the scene. But 1 was so close to him, that I could see that his hand grasped the knob of u stout ash slick so convulsively that the nails were driven into the flesh, ’I he suspense did not long continue ; the jury turned again. I looked at the aid man at this moment. He did not move. His breathing was deep and regular as eyer. I’he associate had left his seat so that the jury could not de liver their verdict until he returned, and there was an anxious pause for a minute or two. I cou'd scarcely conceal my anxiety, but my cli ei,t did not move n muscle. At length, aver. DICT FOR TJIE PLAINTIFF, damages forty shil hugs, w as returned ; the counsel coolly took up their briefs to endorse them ; the associate call ed <>n another cause; the judge eat a bun; none seemed to know or reflect that the for. tunes and happiness of a whole fiqpily had been blighted by that verdict. Nor would they have learned it but for the ruined man himself. He, regardless of the dig. nity of a court of justice, spite ofmy endeavor to keep him down, stood up at the full height of his venerable figure, and before the officers could interfere to silence him, exclaimed.— “ My lord, and g, ntlemcp of the jury, I have s ven children, and nothing in the wide world but this farm. Ifyou take it from us, we must die or go to the parish, and we would rather die than do that. Pity me. my lord, and do not, oh, do not ruin us!’’ The judge rebuked us for permitting our client to disturb trie pro ceedings ; but we could tot restrain him.— Exhausted by the intense agony of the day, —by the emotions which he hud suppressed,— by this last effort, —the old man swooned and was carried to the inn like a corpse. M hen he recovered, he did not weep nor groan :he scarcely spoke. He thanked me for my attention, and calmly urged our immedi ate return home, where he would be excepted, and whither he desired first to bear the fatal tidings. It was yet early i i the day, and we set forth without delay. Throughout the jour ney he said but little of the past, and seemed as little to dwell upon the, future. This quiet, after such a storm, might have appeared to some the composure of resignation ; 1 saw that it was the calmness of despair. We arrived just as the sun was setting. The whole family had walked out in the road to meet us. Robert was the first to hear our ap proach, ami rqu forward ; but he soon gathered the truth from my melancholy features. Little was said when the father met his partner and their children. He kissed them ail twice but he did not shed a tear. They wept bitterly. He looked around him vacantly fora few mi nutes. “These fields are no longer our own. Curses on the fiends!” His wife flung her arms around his neck, aud with sobs aud kiss es stifled the curse, —the first that ever came from his lips. Helooked upon the group again with the same calm countenance. But sud denly it changed to an expression of horror. ‘‘Where—where is Julia,” he muttered. They told him she was too jll to corrie out to meet him. “ The blight ofheaven is upon me,” he said; “that sweet girl will be taken from u»a id for the first tirpe the feelings of the parent tri umphed, and he burst into a sweet and refresh ing flood of tears. Bis heavy heart was re- Sieved. I shall never forget the scene of that night. Tfie little parlour, the place of so many happy hours, was a sad spectacle. Julia lay on the sofa, gasping for breath, sud strove to speak them comfort. Someiimes, for minutes to. gether, not a word was said; they seemed to feel that the roof under which they had dwelt so long, was no more their own. The once social tea was dismissed untasted. At length, the mother, who had shown more -lelf-Comtnand than any of them, said to her husband, “ Robert, we have forgotten our duty ; we have yet a Friend who will never forsake ns, —a Comforter, to whom, in sorrow, we should cry. Robert, my dear Robert, let us all together kneel before God, and ask hirn to befriend us;—Mr. C will not object to join us; this is a time of trpuble for its all, and the little ones shall pray with us. Hea ven will hear the petition of a whole family. I expressed my readiness to join them in the duty of prayer; the father bowed his head in token of assent. The tWo youngest chil dren were setting on his knee, and kissing a way his tears ; sad themselves because all a round were so. He rose from his seat, took the hand of each, and clasping them between his own, as they knelt by his side, raised them towards heaven. The mother uttered a prayer aloud—a prayef evidently dictated byjhe| eel tngs of the moment. I Joined with all my soul. I never felt the beauty and sublimity of prayer so forcibly as I did that night. 1 his duty done, the hearts of all were evidently r e lieved,—some eVen began to lay plana forth i support, and I left them all calm and resigned. How different was my last visit to that house! Robert called Upqn me a few days after, and informed me that his father was more dis turned than ever ; that sometimes he imagined the case was not decided, and talked of the trial as something to come. Julia was grow ing weaker and weaker, and it was feared that she could not live many days longer. From Robert, I gathered th.it he had a double inter est in the trial, for upon it depended his ue.io i with a girl to whom he had been lo g attached, but whose company he woqld now, fn nJless and peonyless, be forbidden by her calculating father. I admired the young man a thousand times the more that his own sorrows had not been mingled with those of his family. Them he e idured in silence; but they were not the less heavy. He bore up against the crowd of ills like a manly fellow as he was. We went together to a neighboring village to seek a retreat for the exiled family until some employment could be found for them. We lured neat apartments, and I advised Robert to remove as soon as possible, for I thought that the continual presence of that which must soon be taken from him, would only add to the mise ry of his father. He promised to observe my directions. On the third day after this, he called again,and told me, with tears in his eyes, that Julia was much worse ; indeed, that she was fust sinking into her grave. “She,.it least, will not live to witness our downfall,” he said. “We must endure all. She is happiest.’’ H then informed me that he had attempted to fol low my counsel, and to remove the things to their new residence ; but his father absolute ly forbade them, protesting that there was time enough for that yet, —that he should not quit the estate, —he did uot believe that he had lost it. The family strove to bend him, but in vain ; no e treaties could move him from his pur pose. I repeated my advice, and showed the young man a letter, which I had received fr«m the plaintiff’s attorney, stating, that if the es tate was not given up by a certain day, they should resort to the extremity of the law. I heard nothing from the farm for nearly a week, and having a leisure as ernoon, I resol ved to visit the family again, and inquire after their wants. As I approached the house. 1 could perceive that they had not quitted it, for Julia’s canary was suspended from the trellis work of the Window, singing with all his night. But I could not espy, as usual, the children oi, the gruss-plot, or a human form moving among tfie shrubs. The door Was open, and as I pan sed, I heard the sound of angry voices, and o: weeping within; I entered vyithout ceremony, and was instantly attracted, by the continued noise, to the parlour. There the whole fami ly were assembled, and among them two stran gers, in whom I instantly recognised the she riff’s officers. The old man had thrown him self into a favorite arm chair, his face pale with rage, and his eye flashing indignation ; one of tiis legs was contracted, the other ex tended in the attitude of defiance. His wife, kneeling behind him, h .d flung her arms about his neck, and was sobbing bitterly ; the two youngest children, crying also, clung to Ins knees. The dying Julia supported in the arms of he r brother, gazed at the passing scene with glassy and bewildered eyes, her wasted limbs trembling with terror, and that awful nervousness which often attends consumption. The other children were standing around them, sobbing aS if their little hearts would burst. My entrance was scarcely noticed. “ Come, sir,” said one of ’he officers civil ly enough, “we must do our duty. Don’t be obstinate ” “ Duty I” exclaimed the father, raising him self in the chair, and looking at tho speaker with a frowm of contempt; “duty, indeed! Is it your duty to turn an honest man out of house and home, —to se >d a whole family to the parish? In what page of the Bible do you find that duty written? From this spot I will not stir : earth nor heli shall move me!” “Butthe law ” began the bailiff. “The law!—ay, the law !” interrupted the unhappy man; That cursed law has ruined me; but for the law, I should not be brought to this. The law calls itself the protector ot the poor; but it is the weapon of the rich, Tho law professes to make property secure ; but it has taken all from me. T1 e law says every man’s house is his castle; this is my house—this is my castle ; —and I dare the first who lifts a finger to force me from it. Here I sit; I am an old man, but at this moment, I have the strength of a giant.” “My dear, dear Robert,” sobbed his wife, “let us yield calmly to our fate. Obey the King’s servant.—Let us leave this house ; we can find another home, where we may be as happy. With you and your children, all pla ces will be home to us.” “Home! did you say, woman?” be exclai med, leaning to her with the wildness of a ma niac; “home! is not this our home ? 1 tell you, sirs, that here I was born, ami here I will die. On that floor, I first learned to walk; these walls heard my first cries. In that cor ner my father used to sit aud tell me old talcs, and there have 1 sat for twenty years, and re peated the same tales to my children—and vet you ask tne to leave it! I lovo this house, sirs ; if it were a living thing, 1 could not love it more; and shall I desert it in niv gray hairji? Oh ! no, no, no !” and he threw him self back again into tho chair, and was silo. t. I here interposed. “Ah! .Mr. C -»■ ■,”he said, “I am glad you are come ; these men want to turn me out of the house. Can’t they wait until the trial is over ?” Then in a subdued tone, “do you know when it will come on ?” I saw that his mind was wandering ; his af fijeti helpmate saw it also. Before I could rep y. he conti med: “Mr. C , I wish the Judge and jury were here to see the misery they have caused. Mr. C *, I could not bear to part with this estate ; I k ’ow every bush and every flower upon it. What do you think ? I often fancy that the grass is greener here than in all the country round, they have promised to bury me under the great elm ; I could not sleep quietly in any other soil. I paled off the place, and planted it with lau rel and holly and primroses; there I will lie, with all my family around me. and there our dust shall mingle together with the dust that was our own. It is a pleasant thought, sir, eh?”and he smiled; but what a smile! I endeavored to recall his scattered senses, and ex; lain the law ly which he was compell ed to yield possession to the rightful owner, but I talked in vain. ft Father, dear father !’’ said Julia, when I paused, “ will you bear your dying girl?” The old man turned to her a look of childish wonder. "Father.” she continued, “ I have not long to live. 1 have never desired life till now. 1 could bear to leave you in your happi less, but not in your riesqlation. Do, dear father, re sign yourself to th'* wijl of God. He sends ifllictions upon us here, to prepare us for bliss hereafter. This has been a long and painful sickness forme; yet I have endeavored to en dure it patiently. Pray, father, pray to Hea ven, and nil will yet be well: I will pray for you when lam gone away.’’ A fit of cough ing prevented her saying more. Her exhaus ted frame could not endure the struggle, and she f II back upon her pillow in convulsio is. The family gathered round her, aqd even while they looked, she died. This new affliction diverted their attention from the situation of the father, who still silt ■h -re with the same determined air, and listen ed unmoved to the wild outpourings of grief from the mother and children. Robert came with his eyes full of tears, and his heart burst ing, and took his hand, endeavoring to lead him to the sofa, where was the beautifu', but life less form of his daughter; but the old man wou'd not move. He then bent and whisper ed into his ear that Julia was dead. «• Dead!—dead I—dead!”1 —dead!” lie exclaimed, se. veral times; "Julia dead! Tell me how she is.” " Father, dear father,” sobbed the son, “come and see.” “Do s she ask for me? D >es she want to to see me?” he co..tiaued : '• help, help me to rise.” With the aid of his eldest son, the mis trabie father rose, aud the group that crowdtd round the d ad Julia opened t > give a passage to the sofa on which she lay. Reason saetned to dash again upon him tor a moment, for he gu zed earnestly at the Lively mortal frame from which the spirit hud so lately fled; he threw himself upon the yet warm clay,aud kissed it, and baihedit with histears; then he rose ano said solemnly, “ God’s will be done ! She was a good daughter, and a kind sister. Heave has thought fit to take her to itself. She has at least escaped the troubles of tins world, ano she will uot endure the anguish of parting from this place, if indeed the lawsuit be given a gainst us. Let us all kneel—kneel here by her whose soul is iu heaven, and pray for com for under our afflictions.” We knelt and the fxiher offered up a short prayer, which sank deep into the hearts ot all those who h sard it. The fit of frei.zy had passed away: h was now tractable as a child. They tiiigh. lead him where they would; but if the law suit was mentioned ho i under, dag nn. The officers had consented to suffer the family to remain Until the funeral, but for the sake ol the father’s tottering reason, it was determin ed that they should remove at once. The bo d\ ot' Julia was laid on a bier hastily construe ted; 1 spread o/er it a heap of flowers; ii was borne by four of the workmen, who loved the family in its prosperity, a..d did not d sert it m its day of trial and t ibulutio.i. Tile fa ther, supported on one side by his disi -herited son, on the other by the partner ol his sorro’vs, as she l;ad been of his joys* followed the bier, and, after them, the other children tottered from the threshhold of the home that had nur sed their infancy, aud with which all thetr dreams of pleaeure were blended- I lingered on the grass-plot to watch the melancholy train as it wound down the hill-path, ihe su i had set; the air was still aud cahr» and soft; the evening star hung upon the hoi rizon ; the au tumn mistj wefe rising from the meadows. My eyes were full of tears, and the scene dau ceu before me. I saw the procession pass the gate. I noticed that as they went, each of the exiles turned a last look at the home of their ancestors, and plucked a rose-hud from the bush that arched the entrance. A loud laugh came from the house which had lately witnessed such a spectacle of wo; it proceed ,ed from the men whose calling had hardened them to distress. I turned, sickening, away, and had shed many tears ere 1 reached my home. The further history of this farqily is brief, I obtained a situation far Robert, who gives much satisfaction to his einpl >yers. The in defatigable mother has upeied a child’s school in the village, and by dim of her own exer tions, and the little that Rob rt can supply, sup* ports her family in respec ability, if not i.* comfort. The father may be seen every day roaming about the fields that were once his I own, giving orders to the laborers respecting the fences, or counting the sheep; nor in these harmless amusements is he thwarted by the occupier of the premises, or a-y «f his men. who respect his infirmity aud pity his misfor tunes. I sometimes bear the same slow and heavy step Upon my stah« ; and the s.une tall, but now more venerable figure darkens my door, I think it advisable to humor his fa icy for a while, and so he often comes to consult me, with all his funner earnestness, about the pro gress of “The Lawsuit.” The Annuals.— ln six u nbers of our pa per we have publish d e*tir' "Frie idshiq’s Offering,” "The Forget-.VI- -N *t,” aid “Th ■ Keepsake,” without i iterleri.ig with <>nr iisu.d variety of miscell.in oils artclis. int Ltgence, tec. After onr next i umber, wh ch will be altogether original — we sh II r some the re public.ition, and probably far ish o ir subset i bers with two or three supplem'iutary sheets, in order to give th ar Co tents whik; they are fresh, and before they h ive been primed i i other papers. “ The English Annual" which is a half-priced book, made up of stale st>*ri s and poetry from the Coiil Magazine, is al ready sufficie tly fatni'iar to our readers, and we shall therefore omit it i i our re-issues. Its iefidi ig article, “Y u cannot marry your Ofaiidinothct, hy T. Haynes Baily,” was pub lished in the August number of the Lady’s Book, and has since been copied into one-hall , the weekly papers of the United States. ; Vol. IV— From tht Saturday Cmiritr. the: dinneb party. Embracing hints on the of chdUrefH BY AN OLD BACHELOR. I am confirmed in the opinion, fioJD atten tive observation, that this branch of domestic* economy is very much qegleCted, and th»r children were ■better governed in former tic’«*» than they are at present. Parents, as society at large; the interest of COui»try< :he welfare of mankind, depend, in a gfefit measure, on early impressions^—oh d ptopef impulse and direction, giverl to children's minds; and this cannot be neglected; Without violating those great obligations Which iTthtal ity imposes. I am excessively food of chiU dren, when they are not rude or fioisy, and can possibly have no higher gratification, than in mixing in their innocent amusements, and participating in their joyful gambols.—J fake great delight in conversing with a sensible, modest boy. and can nqrae a rosy cheeked ia fa .t, for an hour, if the little urchin does not cry. With such feelings, I accepted an in. vitatiqn, from a friend, to dinner, who had a large family of young children, and who sea. soiled his invitation, by assurances, that { should meet some gentlemen of ititelligenoqj as well as being gratified with a sight of a promising famjly. These were sufficient inc ducements, and at the appointed hour,. I was there, for nothing is more rude than to keep a family waiting dirn.ier beyond t|ie hour of in vitation. I met with a friendly Welcome, and the you ig ones, consisting of three boyi, and a girl, who were, severally, ordered up to shake hands with me; and be exhibited. They each made some resistance; shuffled off a little, and c.ime very reluctantly. { was not much pleased with this specimen of breeding. A child should ba instructed to approach a stran ge • with respectful confidence, divested alike, of assurance or timidity. 1 would not judge hastily and dinner was shortly annoqueed. The children were almost the first seated, and lheie was some indecent scuffling for cbaifs, which required the interference of the father, to stop, and which was done, not yUthoUtsotrie d fficulty, as m <mms begged him not lo create a not. Orde< being restored, I began to eat my soup, but with litile comfort: tile young o es were again noisy ai d clamorous: one did not like mutton —the other demanded the ship of a turkey—a third called for beef, with an airof auihority, and pupa whispered the fourth, to ask me to take a glass of Wine With him, a i honor of which I Wquld have declined, but was fearful of hurting the feelings of the fa ll r, who was thus ruining his child by teach ing him ihe maxims of high life, and customs >f mature age, while yet an infant. We got hrough the dinner, after some wrangling, a few tears, expostulations from the father, and < ppositiort from the mother. The desert was intro uced; and the young ones made a dash t the finest of the fruit themselves plentifully--and while two were fighting for i peach, they knocked over a buttei - M>at, With sau.ee for the pudding, winch they safely lodg ed. partly m mamma’s lap. and partly on my black small cloihes: I was very near losing uy temper on the occasion: it fretted me to see children so much neglected* However, while the urchins were bqsiiy engaged in des troying whatever they fancied, I wasConVers i g with a geutli man, who sat opposite to toe, >. the subject of manufactures, and thd ttieans of decreasing pauperism, and giving employ, nant to our poor; but this deeply iuterestiag topic was interrupted by the nurse, entering ’ with an infa.it iu her arms, aud a bqy of two ' years ol I, leading by the hand, A new scene 1 >f uproar commenced: the children seized the baby—he baby squalled for fruit—the young ■ e grasped at every thing iu his way—-a per, f et not ensued —aud it was with great diffi culty that the room was clean d, after bribing e .ch of them with something eatable. 1 took nv departure with pleasure, happy in terraia ating this very u ipieasant interview, T tries are strangely altered, or rathef whole some d ictriues have become unfashionable. When I was a boy, my breakfast Was weak coffee which was placed iu a large earthen pa and each of us had a tin cup, and two good slices of bread and buttey. All of sur meals were served up tn this manner, under the superinte idance of one of the family, and we were dispatched to school at the proper hour; we Lad a reasonable proportion of de licacies reserved for us, and at night Wejoined the family party, who were all pleased to see us, and that was the season for mirth and judi cious hilarity: our education was not neglect ed—our appetites were not pampered—our mi ids were not ruined by extravagance, and our principles wefe not vitiated by bud exam ples. Nothing cun have a belter effect than adopting a system with childreri, and never de parting from it, if the principles are squad. A very Sacred and-solemn duty is imposed upon parents, not only to feed and clothe their chil kren (f >r that seems to lie the b iundary alien tion with ma..y persons) but to preserve their mind and mo ais pure, to inculcate, by pre cept and example, lessons of prudence, econo my and industry. Yhis can only be effected in one way, by decision and judicious severity, Unless a child stars his parent, ha will never obey or resp ct him. This severity does not consist in beating a child—bitt keep him at a respectful distance- admitting him only at sta ted periods, into his presence, and at those pe riods conversing rationally and affectionately wi h him; crushing in the bud, every attempt nt wit, or what is called smart sayings, the pre cursors only of indolence, rudeness, ana ill manners; but, on the Contrary, imprinting, upon their waxen minds, lessons of mildness, tunpera .ee a d industry. Some wili say, th t by this cold and repulsive course, you teach children to hate you; but itshoqkl be re membered, that familiarity destroys res|»ect; and where there is no fear, there is no obedi ence. A child may fear his parent, but irt time he will discover the good qualities of his father, account for his severity, aad love him; and that very severity will induce a child to do nothing ihat may offend him. Let them Jive hardy whe i young; partake of rough, but x» h des ime tare; abstain from dress pin ly; give them little, or no money} teach them to earn it; give them a trade, when they are able to work, or a suitable professio i; see that their time is em,Joyed, and compel, them, while under v our care, to ob >v yourcommands, and they will turn out good citizens. It is a f c’, which is unde nable, that seven-eights of the had characters, who disfigure the world, who are useless to themselves—of no creditor service to thetr families, have been thus re duced to extremities, from the culpable oeg ect, and Unpardonable iud ff rence of parents, HOWARD. Miracle —ln the house of correction nt Bostotl there are 200 women in one room, who work industriously and never talk I! — lmfossible,