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RY JAMES W. JO AES The Southern Whig, PU.SLI3 l-l J BVUKY SATURDAY MORNING. . . TJiitivis. Three dollars per annum, payable within six months after the receipt of the fn st number, or four dollars if not paid within the year. Sub scribers living out of the State, will be expect ed in all cases, to pay in advance. &,» subscription received for less than one year, unless the money is paid in advance; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrear ages arc paid, except at the option of the pub lisher. Persons requesting a discontinuance, bftheir Papers, are requested to bear in mind, a sclletnent of their accounts. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered out. All Letters to the Editor Or Proprietor, on matters connected with the establishment, must be post paid in order to secure attention Notice ofthe sale of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published sixty days previous to the day of sale. Ths sale of personal Property, in like manner, must bo published forty bays previous to the day of sale. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that Application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for Leave to Sell Land or Ne groes, must be published four months. Notice that Application will be made for Letters of administration, must be published thirty days and Letters of Dismission, six months. ForAdvertisi.no —Letters of Citation. S 2 75 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, (40 days) 325 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 58 Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cents for every thirteen lines of sin-Jl 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 ft month, it will be churned each time as a new advertisement. For a single insertion, $1 00 per square. PROSPECTIS , OF Tilts FTPUifo paper formerly edited by Wm. E. ■_ Jones, is now-under the direction of the undersigned. The growing importance of Ath ens, the state of parties in Georgia, and the agitation cf 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 tho n atch tower, devoted to a strict construction oftlie true spirit ofthe constitution, the maintaiiiaucc oflUu rightsand sovereigut; Ts i.'ic Griffis) it:.-; reinmcKUioi.t oi i.viilini patronage, reform, and a strict accountabilitj of ail public officers; moderate, yet firm and decided in his censures, “nothing extenuate oi setdown ought in malice,” —to expose prompt ly abuses and corruption when and whereevr discovered—such an one the undersigned pro doses to make the Whig; while it will contain the most authentic and important information Connected with our foreign and domestic rcla pons, the latest commercial intelligence, ori tiinal articles, and selections from the mos gopular works ofthe day in the various depart, rnents of Agriculture. Literature ai d the Arts. To Georgians the undersigned is conscious Le 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 annum payable in advance, Three Dollars and fifty cents if not paid within six months, or Four if not paid until the end of the year. ’ 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 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, oftlie •South, have ttfq long depended upon foreign parts forour 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 m the State, and Especially the Aluinni of Franklin College, will patronize the enterprise both by word and deed. State pride the love of Literal are, our interest in the cause of general Education, all call upon us to sustain an enterprise so necessary to our improvement, and the honor of the St’-te. A. 3. CLAYTON, JAMES JACKSON, R. D. MOORE, WM. J,. MITCHELL, C. F. McCAY, SAMUEL F. PRESSLEY; H. HULL. Tme Athenian shall issue monthly, on fine paper, stitched and covered in pamphlet form, *nd 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 «nm>m, payable on the delivery ofthe first num ber. npHE undersigned has settled in Macon wi lr JL the view oi practicing LAW—He will at tend the courts of the adjoining counties, ant! may be found by application at the office ot Messrs. Poe & Nisbet for the present—His Office, not quite complete, is on the second floor ofthe New Commercial Bank. In winding up my business in the Ocinulgee circuit, I have associated with me Augustus Reese, Esq. of Madison. Our joint attention will be applied to that object. E. A. NISBET. Macon, January 28—3!)—15t. The Southern Recorder, Chrouicje and Sentinel, and Whig, will publish tlie above Weekly until the first of May. FOUR months afterdate, application will bo made to the Honorable Inferior Court of Madison county, when sitting for Ordinary pur poses, for leave to sell the real Estate of Robert Williams, Ncu’r. late of said County deceased DAV\ SON WILLIAMS, Xd’iTr Feb. 25,—43 -Im o\lil)CV'a From the Hdtiuek Courier. I'Olt I.OVF IS STRONG AS BE ITH. Bl' BARNARD AND LUCY BARTON. They err who deem love’s brightest hour In blooming youth is known; Its purest, tendercst, holiest power la later life is shown:— When pasrions, chastened and subdued; To riper years are given, j And earth and earthly things are viewd I In light that breaks from Heaven. It is not in the flush of youth, Or daj's of cloudless mirth, We feel the tenderness and truth Os love’s devoted worth ; Life then is like a tranquil stream Which flows in sunshine bright, And objects mirrored in it seem To share its sparkling light ’Tis when the howling winds arise, And life is like the ocean, Whose mountain billows brave tlie skies, Lashed by the storm’s commotion ; When lightning cleaves the murky cloud, And thunders peal around us, ’Tis then we feel our spirits bowed By loneliness around u~ Oh I then, as to the seaman’s sight, The beacon’s trembling ray, Surpasses far tlib lustre bright Os summer’s cloudless day ; E'en such to tried and wounded hearts tn manhood’s darker years. The gentle light true love imparts ’Mid sorrow, cares and fears. Its beams on minds of joy bereft Tlieit freshness, brightness fling, And show that life has something left To which their hopes may cling;—• It steals upon the sick at heart, The desolate in soul, To bid their doubts and fears depart, And point a brighter goal. If such be love's triumphant power O’er spirits touched by time, Oh ! who shall doubt its purest hour Os happiness sublime 7 In youth ’tis like the meteor's gleam, Which dazzles and sweeps by ; In after life its splendors seem Linked with eternity' A i’i’ize Talc. BY MISS ELIZABETH BOGART, OF NEW YORK. When Henry Lindon was twenty.five, Car oline Wilton wasXjvild, lively girl, of twelve years of age. She had a brilliant complexion and a pair of sparkling tjiack eyes, full of fire and intelligence ; and when she laughed with all the glad feelings, and unchecked spirits of happy childhood, her white and* even teeth formed a most rtioy couuhxu wiui uer ruoy iips. Free from care, and blest in the affection and indulgence of her parents, she felt no envy towards those who were raised afeote her by the mere caprice of fortune. Vain of her personal appearance, and knowing nothing but that she was handsome, she was perfectly sa tisfied with herself—and, had she been left alone with her ignorance and her beauty, she might have missed a few fleeting moments of exquisite anti refined enjoyment, and escaped after years of misery and repentance. Young as she was, it was her fate to attract tiie admiration and attention of Henry Landon, an elegant and accomplished man of fashion. With fine t dents, a liberal education, t nd a heart alive to every sentiment of virtue and gen erosity, was still eccentric, and possessed a mind strongly tinctured with romance. His walk in life was far above that of Mr. Wilton, the father of Caroline—but. that Was, in his opinion, the circumstance of accident, and nei ther detracted from tho merit of Wilton nor added to his otfen; Landon had just arrived at the age w lien the society of gentleman is most sought Is’ the la dies—when a man is calculated to be most agreeable; most ardent, most generous, most confiding, when the flashing sparks of genius in a youthful mind shines forth with the great est brilliancy-—and ere the best feelings of the heart have been wrapped by the coldness and treachery, and selfishness of the world. Manx a bright eye fell beneath his glance, and fol lowed his receding form with looks of admira tion—and many a sweet smile met his ap proach, and threw a light on the blush occasion ed by a passing compliment from his lips. It was in vain—his heart was invulnerable—for rather it was long thought so—yet it was at lasi surrendered to a child. Caroline Wilton, he fondly thought, might be formed into the very creature of his imagin ation ; and when once this idea had laken pos session of his mind, he could see no beauty, no attraction, in any other being. With a for tune not only independent, but sufficient to gra tify every whim ofhis enthusiastic and roman tic disposition, he determined to educate her for his wife —to bend her young and pliant thoughts to those pursuits w hich lie most loved and most admired—to give her naturally gifted mind the highest polish of cultivation and im provement—and then, to claim her Sensitive and greatful heart as his reward. A proposal so advantageous, an alliance so flattering, could not fail to meet the approba tion ofher parents, and was soon communica ted to tire gtty and youthful Caroline. She listened silently and attentively, as if endeav oring to comprehend all that she was expected to perform; and then, turning to Lindon with all the candor and mz/rclZ" of ! k:r happy dispo sition, she suddenly M r. Landon, are you 1 Sure you you have spent sO much learned all that you wish me to beWL-i “Certainly, my d he ; “blit " hy do you ask such a “ Because, I am not certain that i shall like you as Well, when von get to be so much older.” L indon Was forcibly struck with the answer. It was the simple reflection ofa child of nature, and a deep shade of thought passed over his brow.” “It is a wild scheme,” sighed he to himself-—“I have embarked on a s.m of expe riment, in which not onlv niv own-happiness, but that o- another, is involved; and there are moments, when 1 fear that! am only up sorrow lor an innocent* q'nd fovelv a . d bitter disappointment for mys.lt’— ui a few years, ’ thought he, as hv accidentally saw Ins fine form and handsome face refit cted in an opposite mirror, “can.'ut alter me su much as to preclude all hope of niv iiamirii a young kidf’s affections.” Caroline’s quick eye saw th? change tn his countenance, and with an intuitive sc use of “where powers are assumed which haveJn'oT been delegated, a nullification of the act is THE r.iGHTt’tJt remedy.” Jefferson. giving pain, or creating displeasure, she s£ld, in a tone of earnestness, and with the mast artless manner, “ Mi’.. Landon, I alweys say any thing that comes in my head to papa, and he only laughs at me—l dare say I shall 1; ve you when lam grown up ; for I love papa now, and he is a great deal older than I am.” “ But why cannot you love me before you are grown Up, Caroline ?” “ O, because, I can’t love every body at once 4 You are verv good to me, and I will try to like you as well as I can—but you are not a bit like Edgar Morris, and I can’t help liking him the best—for he brings *e flowers, and turns the rope for me to jump, and climbs the trees after fruit, and does every thing I waiJl him to do.” Landon smiled —yet he went awavjjom the ’house of Mr. Wilton less sanguine ns to the | rjsi’lt ofhis plan than he had entered it. j Edgar Morris was the son of a neighboring gentleman of small fortune, who contriv ed to live .geutcely, and even with an air of elegance, on a very moderate income. He was two years older than Caroline, and had been her playmate from infancy; and her words were literally true; that ho would do ev ery thing she Wanted him to do. They were attached to each other as brother and sister, | but were both too young to know of any other kind of love ; and ere a childish affliction had time to ripen into a deeper and more absorbing feeling, they were separated by tho netv desti ny and employments of Caroline. Six years had passed away in a constant and often fatiguing round of studies; and the beauti ful, spoiled, and ignorant child, was metamor phised into the lovely, polished, and accom plished woman. 'Those who had known Car oline Wilton at twelve years of age, could scarcely have recognized her at eighteen. An intellectual expression of countenance had ad ded a surpassing charm to her native beauty— her step had become graceful and elegant, in stead ofspringing with the wild, elastic bound of early days, and her mind had received and re tained the fair impression of virtue, refinement, and delicacy. Landon*wus her constant friend and adviser and not oulV*!!® director of Her studies, hut of jle saw the change which her mind working, and watched its progress wiiii*delight: and loved her better for being himself the means of making her what she was. Her feelings toward him were ofa nature altogether different from common. She look ed up to him as her benefactor and her best friend.; and she gave him her heart in full con fidence ofhis worth and nobleness, and with the deepest sentiments of gratitude and esteem. Her love had none of that romantic fervor which characterized his attachment to her, but it was pure, and true, and steady, and really capable of great sacrifices, while, through pride and folly, it refused a trifling one. • Landon loved with an all-engrossing passion —yet he knew that the beaatifiil object ofhis idolatry was not quite perfect. With au amia ble disposition, she had a spirit that, would not I brook control, nor bend to aught but her own j sense oi right and wrung. But neither was lie himself without his faults. His temper was often hasty; and Sometimes difficult; and bis ideas ofprdpriety in others were carried some what »oo far for a world where much must be overlooked, and much forgiven. Caroline was not generally fond of amuse ments; nbr of attending public places; but for } once she had set her heart on going to a mas querade in a neighboring city. A little doubt ful of the approval ofher friend she determin ed to mention it to him, and ask his advice ; yet resolved at the same timi not to be guided by it, should he prohibit her gratifying what she considered an innocent curiosity. He came as usual in the evening to pay his ac customed visit, and she began by playing and singing his favorite tunes inorder to sooth eve ry discordant feeling, and prepare him to grant her request. Animated with the thought of novelty and pleasure, sbe was all gayety and good humor, and her young heart anticipated nothing but happiness in the years to come ; but her lover was unusually grave and thought ful—and when the music ceased, to which he had seemed tojisteu as if it had been for the last time,the silence might have remained long unbroken, but for her. “Landon,”said she, with the familiar voice, and manner of a privileged favorite, “ will you go with me to the masquerade next week T’" Landon had been thinking of the masque rade, which, as a novelty, had occasioned much j conversation among the gay and fashionable, and many of his friends were prepared to throw offtheir natural charters for the time, and sus tain or fail in some other. It was it species of amusement, that, in his opinion; was calculated ! to produce peruiciotrS tonsequences; and he had determined, in his own mind, neither to go himself, nor to suffer Caroline to join the partv. “Masquerades are dangerous places, my dear Caroline.” said he, in reply to her ques tion, “ and I shall be sorry to see you there ; but you are not serious, I know—you comiot really think of going.” . j “Indeed, 1 am very serious.” replied the live. I Iv girl, with one of those smiles which had ! often beguiled him ofhis better judgment—“ I i not only think of going, but intend to go ; and i if you are afraid to trust me with Miss Sinclair i and Colonel Graham, why you must absolutely j go with me yourself. Come now, don’t look' ’angiy. and sentimental, and so much wiser j than every body else. Where is the imp.ro- ' priety? I can see nothing wrong in it.” He was not in the humor for trifling, and Caroline spoke without her usual tact. “It would be useless for me to point out the impropriety,” said he, in a surprised and rnfher an offended tone, “if you are resolved, at all events, on going. Indeed, it would be onlv causing you to disoblige me under aggravated circumstances. I should nave scai ceiy believ. eil that, you, Caroline, would have ventured to decide on •itiy th'riig of consequence,- without first consulting me, and paying some little do ferei.ee to my feelings and opinions—but I have perhaps over-rated my claims on your gratitude, and observance of my wishes.” The last words were spoken sarcastically, 'and had their full effect. Caroline’s lofty spirit flashed from her eyes, but she was silent; and, for the first time, tho weight of her obli gations to Landon pressed heav'y ch her heart. 'Tliry were, both to blame, and both foil and thought wrongly., yet neither would condescend to mak first eoiicessi'oti to the other. Car oline did. not 3 >euk again, and Lu. don rose to t 'lu- leave, lie approached her trod took her hand— “ You will think iiblfer ofyour resolution, Caroli tic,” said he, with a softer manner—“l am sure, after all, that von will not lose a Iffoial fur the sake ofthe World and its votari'es.— The time has now c6rne, m hen you must cither i give up the world forme, or me for the world. . Let vuttr own b'Caff choose between the two.” ATHEAS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MAY S7, 1837. Hud h? stopped there, he would have gained the victory, but he proceeded— “ll you persist in your determination of go ing to the ifiasqueratle. we part, from that time forever.” “ Then farewell.” said Caroline, with a sud den emotion of pride and anger —and thus, in one hasty moment, she broke the band ofyears. and by a single fully, estranged a noble heart. She stood for some time on the spot where he had left. her. and then burst into tears, “ Oh!” said she to herself, “ how f olish, how ungrate ful, I have been ?—but I cannot recall my words —I have vokontarily thrown away my happi ness—and fur what? To appear for one eve ning in a fictitious character at a masquerade. Be it so then,” continued she riiournfully, yet proudly—“ I shall assume a new, if not a false character, for the rest of my life.” The masquerade was over—and Caroline returned, weary, and h’retehed, to her father’s house. The pleasure she had anticipated was all ideal; but the misery ai.d remorse II Inch succeeded, were a sad and lasting reality.— Landon came not to Welcome het return, and solitude was too irksome to be borne.—She went into Society, and ptlt bn fl tnask of gaietv, to hide the Canker worm of disappointment, which was secretly preying on her heart, and j undermining her health and spirits. Rdtrior, with her hundred tongues, soon ' spread the report, that Miss Wilton had dis carded her noble and generous lover; and many others crowded round her to supply his place, but she was cold and distant to all, till she heard that. Landon was going to be married. Too hastily believing a Story that was fabricated only to deceive her, she waited not its comple tion, but in a moment of pride and resentment, almost of delirium, she gave her hand to one whose artful persuasions had chiefly induced her io fcomriiit her first great folly, of throwing offthe guiding care of her early friend and ben efactor. But she knew not herself when she made the solemn vow to love and honor anoth er. She knew not the strength of her attach ment to Landon till she had severed, with her own hapd, the last remaining link between her- 1 self and him, and found, too late, that her heart could t ot thus be forcibly torn away from the 1 only one to whom it had ever been freely and fully given. It was less than a year from the time of the masquerade, that the public papers an nounced the marriage of Col. Graham with the beautiful and accomplished Caroline Wil ton, and from that hour the disappointed and disgusted Landon foreswore all intercourse with the female sex. Graham had once been among the number ofhis friends; but he was the man of all oth ers, whom he would have warned her to avoid. Handsome find insinuating in his manners, and apparently all that Was good and amiable; he was, in reality, selfish, designing and ty rannical, and altogether incapable of loving. Vanity was his ruling passion—and vanity, once gratified, Becomes a cold and heartless feeling towards its object. Caroline hud lost her mother ; and her fa- I tiler, though itKlulgenr, even to u fault, was a man of business, and tdb much occupied with the affairs of the world, to think much of those of the heart. He had been led to believe that Mr. Landon and his daughter had broken their engagement to each other by mutual consent, and though exceedingly mortified expected a termination ofthe projected alliance, he said little on the subject; and, when Caroline as sured him that it was her choice to marry Col, ' Graham, he kindly told her to consult her own happiness, and act according to her wishes. He did not live to witness the trials and vicis itudes of her future life; and she rejoiced in the midst ofher sorrows, that he was spared ; the pang of knowing that she had sealed her ; own misery, by her hasty union. The flowers of three summers had bloomed ■ and faded since the fatal barrier had been pla- / ced between and his love; and time ' had worn out the first bitterness of fooling, and J destroyed much of his resentment towards Caroline. He began to judge calmly and ra- : tionally of the past; and acknowledge to his ; own heart that he had been greatly to blame ■ —lt was the blind impetuosity ofhis own dis- I position, which had dictated his last words to her, and provoked the proud reply which had j sepaflhted them forever. lie felt that he should not have utterly forsaken her for a single folly. So young, so beautiful, so full cf joydfls spir its, and so free from the world’s guile, how could he thus abandon her? She bad left her native place, and gone with her husband he knew not wither, lie made I no inquiries concerning her fate, and his | friends never mm.tioned her name in his pres- ' once. Indeed, ho kept up bt t little intercourse I with those who knew him. He either spent t his time in travelling, or secluded himself with in his own walls; and the once brilliant, fas- [ cinatmg and elegant Landon, seemed changed i to the morose and gloomy recluse. He had been wandering through the coun try during the summer month’s, impelled by a 1 restless spirit that haunted him incessantly; > and in one of his excursions ho missed his I way, and found himself, late in the eveidug, ! apparently in an unfrequented place, and pro- ] bably far from any habitation; but after riding ! on rapidly tor half an hour, and stiffermg his I hors'e to take his' own Course, he discovered a | light, and turned toward it. As he approach- j ed, he found it cam j from a small collage sur- > rotmJed with shrubbery; and dismount;..a he j' walked slowly and caiftiously on, till within a ! lew yard's of the window, whence it issued. I It \i’as a still cveiii/g in the month of June, and the moon was just rising in a clobdless sky. j Landon stopped for q moment, and coiitom- | plated the scene with an iudesciibaljle feeling! ol nretancholv. (Suddenly the sound of music i came from the house. IL: listened. It was : a low mournful Voice, yet sweet and soft. > 1 he air was “The last rose of summer,” and ! awakened manv painful associations iti bis j mind. It was the hist song that Caroline had { ever sung for him <mi Tventful evening, j, when a “trifle light - ; lasting breach between tlw?m. lie appioach- J cd nearer and distinctly .heard the following *tV6ids:’-i 'Tis die last blooming summer These eyes shall behofd — [ Long, long ere another, I This hi .irt shall be cold ; But ah ! it’s best feelings', On eartlflnive 'qpen vhiJlM ; And I grit '.«<• not, that shortly It’s pulse shall be still’d, Alone and in sorrow,' Dark hum's roll by, F'rsnken and friendless. Why should I not die ? The turf will lie lightly ' Ab we the Imie spot, Where the heart-broken stranger blu.d and forgot ° I With the last stanza, the voice seemed to falter, and there was a slight pause, apparent ly from_uncontrollable feeling, in the condo ling line. Landon stood as if chained to the ground. The image of Caroline flitted before his imagination, as he had last seen her in her innocence and loveliness, and he could not di vest himself of the idea that he had again heard the sweet tones of her voice. Deep interest was mingled with his curiosity to catch a glimpse of the musician before he applied for admittance, and he was accidentally gratified. . The curtain which shaded the window was ■ suddenly drawn aside, as if to admit the air, and a youthful fetnale; dresised in black, appear- . ed to be the only inmate of the apartment. Landon was concealed from view by the shrub bery, and gazed ..vv'tih an intensity of feeling which absorbed every: thought. The lady passed Her Hand to her foi’eiiead, and walked from the casement. He could not ba mistaken —it was surely the step, the figure of Caroline i Wilton-y—and as she turned again the light fell on her face, and removed the least shadow of I doubt. Yes.it was indeed she- —but oh! how : changed from the blooming beauty of other , days. Consumption and sorrow were fast per forming their work of death—and her song seemed |srophefil: of her early doom; . The ro ses had faded from her cheeks, and her eyes had lost their once joyful expression ; but no thing could dispel the charm which the soul of virtue and intelligence diffused over her love ly countenance. Landon rushed forward, and would haVe for ced himself into her presence; but, as he laid his hand on the latch of the door, the thought darted across his mind, “she is married !” and he turned hastily away. “Ungrateful, mis guided Caroline,” said he to himself, “ why hast thou again crossed my view ? It is not for me to soothe thy sorrow now—and the hus band thou hast chosen, where is he?” These thoughts nerved him to quit the spot, and discovering a beaten track, he pursued his way, and soon found a shelter for the night. The next morning fie departed, without asking a single question concerning the cottage or its inhabitants ; but the memory of that pale lace and wasted form, haunted him wherever he went. Summer had glided away, ano the foiling leaves of autumn cast a deepergloom over his mind. In the romance and eccentricity of his disposition, he had buried all his painful j thoughts and feelings in his own bosom ; but I they became at length too bitter to be borne, and he determined secretly to revisit the lone ly cottage, Evening again cast her shadows on the sur rounding objects, and a dim light shone faintly from the same casement window. Landon reached, unobserved, the very spot where he had last stood ; and What Were Ins sensations to hear again the notes of music ! It was a voice of sorrow, and seemed a requiem over the dead. Wildly and solemnly it floated on | the autumn blast—and the words which fell j on his ear, harrowed his soul with anguish. Steep on, sleep on—thou wilt not wake Altho’ poor Helen’s heart should break, j To see thee thus so calmly lie, Unmindful of her tearful eye. And art thou gone, tfly Caroline ? Oh ! art thou, now, no longer mine ? Then fare thee well—why should I weep, To see thee thus so sweetly sleep ? { This world was never fit for thee— It was not meant thy home to be ; Thou wast to us a season given, But thy abiding place is Heaven, • The strain ceased, and sobs were heard au , dibly in plate of the music. Landon was I much affected, and as he had once known EL j len Sinclair, the bosom friend of Caroline, in j i the days of her happiness, he entered the apart- j ) ment where she was sitting, by the remains of ' her youthful companion. j Ellen started at his well remembened form, 1 I and then, with a look of coldness, haughtily j I said, “You have come too late, Mr, Landon. ' I Why do you intrude at such a moment ? ! Would you take a last look at. those still, cold ! features, beautiful even in death ? but oh ! the ! spirit is not there.” ( Landon spoke not, but turned to the bed, i and klclt by the side of his departed love, j Long did lie gaZe in silence, till at length, in a ; voice choked with strong emotion, bo exclai. I med, “Sleep on, beloved Caroline!—Sleep on. ; in thy calm, unbroken rest! Far, far happier i art thou cow, than he who is gazing at thy | senseless form, with a broken heart. Oh' j J that I had left thee under thy father’s roof, : j beautiful and innocent, and happy as thou wast I I when I first saw thee. Sweet flower, thsu / I mightest have bloomed wild, and lived out thy I ) days—but transplanter:, and fostered wifli too ■ j mtich care, thou wast unable, like a green-hou.se I ■ plant, to bear the pitiless blast of the world. I I Why did 1 take thee from die protector which ! nature had given thee ? 0 ‘ too severely have I 1 been punished for my presumption and vani j ty. Thou art gone ! and this work of death I is all the effect of one single folly in me.” j The heart stricken mourner rose from his j knees and left the rqom, and it was many j weeks after the turf had been laid on tho grave I of Caroline, ere he could bring himself to in quire the particulars of her history since her : marri’ge. | Her tale Was a common one. It was the Istorv of a woman disappointed in her first I love—marrying from other feelings—fulfilling I her duties to her husband with fidelity,' but I ; a ilh a brokun heart—neglected by the man j ! for whom she had sacrificed her happiness, j and at last forsaken and left to die in the spr ng | 1 time of life, with inj'urqd feelings, withered as- i I flections, and blighted hopes. She left a flew lines flor Landon, written just j before her death. They were as follows : ! “To my early benefactor,l would devote a i few of the remaining moments of my life. I > They must, indeed, be for I feel that I j am dying. Ten years have passed, Landon,! I-since I was first taught, to look up to you j jas my protector, adviser, ai d best friend. | j 1 jdare not look back on the first six, bo- I cause I must not now indulge those feel-1 [ ings which ever come with the recollection of i : that gulden part of my life. My foolish heart li sometimes whispers me, “ how happy I might | have been!” but, believe me, tny friend, the happinessof this world, after all, is but a dream. 1 'l'lie last four years have been to me an age <’l Uni-row—and yom>g as F am I am' contented Io : die. I feel that. I have lived long enough to I have had my full share of good and evil--but: the evil has been better for me than life good. ! It has turned my thoughts froth the joys u hich pass away, to those which endure forever— Land it has tjiugh.t mo to seek thq straight and j narrow path, which leads to a brighter and a j better world, “Had it been the will of providence, I I- should' have rejoiced to see you once more ; | but it may not be—\ve can never meet again in this world. A few short hours will proba bly finish my brief career, and close the scene of life forever. Y<!ySr noble and generous heart will mourn, I know, for my early fate, and my last earthly thoughts wj.ll linger with the benefactor of my youth. There is a Fee ling that will i.ot die, but with the spark of my life. There is a deep and enduring affection, which is often found in woman’s heart. If un fortunate, it may be concealed, and-struggled with, and schooled into submission, amidst oth er cares and duties ; but when the hour of death approaches, it \j ill assert its power, and swallow up every earthly feeling', I knotv, too Well, that the bright prospect of my early days were all blasted by a single fol. hj— and the effect of that one has caused me to commit a hundred others, which have bro’t misfortune, and misery, and death in their train ; But I mourn not now for myself; I grieve only for the sorrows which I have in flicted on the best of men. Oh! Landon, for give my ingratitude to you—forgjve the cruel disappointment of your hopes, the desolation I have spread around your path, and drop one tear to the memory of the wretched Caroline.” Weeks, and months, and years, glided on, unheeded by the desolate and heart-broken Landon; but time at length softened the vio lence of grief, and wore away the heavy gloom of disappointment. In the very prime of life, rich, handsome, and accomplished, with splendid talents and brilliant genius, he could not fail of being an object of attention and in terest. He b -gai? again to smile with the light of other days—to charm with his conversa tion, and,delight, with his various accomplish ments ; but his heart was buried in, the early grave ot his Caroline. Landon had loved, but. not as men loi’e. Surrounded and courted, and flattered, by the ybting, the gay and the beautiful, he was still true to his first passion, aril passed on through life, a solitary and iso lated being, the victim of a single folly, and its bad effects. There was many a youthful bosom, whose warmest and best affections would have been gladly devoted to him, had he given the sligh test encouragement —but the “ heart requires a heart, nor will it be satisfied with less than it gives.” A.WOMAtVS FAREWEIrt. Fare thee well! ’Tis meet we part, Since other ties and hopes are thine ; Pride that can nerve the lowliest heart Will surely strengthen mine ! Yes, I will wipe my tears away, Repress each struggling sigh: Call back rhe thoughts thou led’st astray, Then lay me down and die ! Fare thee well! I’ll not upbraid Thy r fickleness or falsehood now ; —- Can the wild taunts of love betrayed Repair one broken vow ? But if reproach may wake regret, In one so false and weak, Think what I w as, -when first we met, And read it on my cheek! Fare thee well! of yonder tree’ One leaf is fluttering in the blast. Withered and sere —a type ofinine — For I shall fade as fast ’ Whilst many a refuge still hast thou, Thy wandering heart may save, From thee keen pangs that wring mine now, I have but one —the grave! From the United States Gazette. HE ASKFB TOO SOON. In reply to ‘Tie came too late.’' BY MISS BOUARE- ; He asked too soon —ere he did prove The magic of delay’, , He asked, .era woman learn'd to lovq And cast his heart away : felt no thrill, when his true hand Did warmly press her own ; His vows and prayers where lightly sean’d, Too soon his heart was known. He asked too soon—a wayward thing I I s woman’s love when sought. The heart’s best treasures it will fling On him who'll prize it not: She fain would have the proud one bow, The rover t-uru and kneel; Thecoldest hearts make warmest vow, And the unfeeling feel. He asked too sqon—th’ opposing thought And blended feelings known. In her, whom love has truely taught His tyrant sway to own: A hope to gain the seeming lost, The fear that’s won will fly, Perplexed by doubt, by’ passion toss’d, All this her soul must try. He asked too soon—she view’d his worth With calculation cold, He'd fame, he’d merit, gentle birth, And wealth of thought untold; But he did ask, ere passion threw, Romance around his name, And when the maid his feelings knew, She felfno Kindred flame. From the Liverpool Telegraph. JDIAIET. BY T. RAWLINSON. See, who comes yonder to her lattic'd bower, Wrapt, in the mantle ofher peerless charms ; With loosen’d breast, revealing its young snow, And blue eye cast on Heaven’s bright midnight scene ; I Tis Julie*, or ’tis innocence ; sweet child— Yet more than child, Verona’s loveliest flower Scarce more than budded : “Comes she to.hcr rest, Or to the gaze of night; or to her thought, And memory of what she was, at morn, And what at eve, ere yet young Romeo sighed. She has not tasted guilt, and her foot Press'd not the marble stair, as it was wont With its light sound ; it came not as itshould, Free by her nurse's side ; nor on her lip, Was all the maiden's prattle ofthe dance. And song, and guests, that grac’d her father's halls. And when her lady-mother hade good night, And parted with a. loss, like one in fear, Or one in freedom scarce yetsure, trac’d down Her steps, retreating from the door; And trembled, as the storm-touch'd leaf is mov’d, To hear the voice, her owp sweet, mother’s voice. Ask of the nurse, ‘‘Why Juliet’s step so light. Should jon that evening falter;" yes, she trembled— Yet knew not whyguilt was not in her heart— But looking on her iniiocence, she saw A ripple on its bosom as’of vice. Attack for love, for childish, maiden love, That on her casement leaning, thus looks down Half sad, and half gay—like one in tears, yet laughing On buds of pomegranate, and bleaching-rose. Vol. V--Ve. 4. From a Manuscript Lecture on Horticulture. The Biegraphy of the Rose. BY SAMUEL L. KNAFP. Isis, the most ancient of the Egyptian divin ities, represented the prolific properties of na ture, and particularly of a 11 the useful and love ? ly productions of tr.e earth;, and by different names, she, at that period, held sway over the whole world. She was represented holding a f’lobe in her hand, with a vessel full of corn. The ancients thought that the choic est flowersgrew where she trod on her own domains, and when she was most delighted by the honors paid her, there sprung op the rose) dearest of all flowers,.in her woship. fler worshippers soon believed that the rose was the most, acceptable of all flowers to the god dess, and laid garlands of them iu profusioq upon her altars. From Egypt, Isis was brought to Greece, and there represented the whole be)\ vy of goddesses, from Venus to Ceres, and 1 there was styled "tnisTfcss, mother, muse, or the goddess of ten thousand names.” This offering, from mortals, of het#lovejy seemed to breathe from the altar ai purifying and exalting incense over her worshippers. Through every age of legend, peetry and fa ble, the rose has ten thousand eulogists ; but few have ever attempted to give its history. The rose, in all countries and in ali times) has bsen held as the queen of flowers. The name, as it comes to us, is from tho Greek rodon; it has relation to the colour, red, Tho Greeks took their impressions of the rose, and all matters of taste in the vegetable kingdom, from the Egyptians, Persians’or otHefr nations of Asia. Everywhere it is tile type of beauty and love, bestowing its name to eririefi other flowers, which derive from ’he rose their chief celebrity, and taking unquestionable prece dence of all in ornament ot taste. The Greeks had more taste than imagination, and they pruned in their beautiful fables the luxuriant growth of Oriental fancy. They have, this tradition of the rose—“ The god of love madu ~. present to llarpoerates, the god of silence, of a beautiful rose, the first that had been known, to engage him not to discover any of his mother, Venus;’’ and hence it has become a citstoni to have a rose placed in their rooms of mirth and entertainment, that under the as surance thereof they might be Induced to lay aside all restraint, and speak "'hat they pleas ed. Thus did the rose become a symbol of silence; so that sub rosa, under the rose, deno ted as much as to be out of danger of any dis closure of conversation. The wretch whis violated these customs, was held next in con tempt to him who committed perjury to tlik £ oJs ’ . . < * In Lidia and other portions of the east, tlie rose was commingled with sentiment and song; its beauty and its perfume made it, in their imaginations, a match for tho sweetest of na ture’s musicj and in their sweet imaginings; the nightingale was married to the rose. The poetry of this regton of the rose was full of their loves and happiness. Anacreon wrote odes to this favoured flowerj enchanting as tin* song of the nightingale itself; and the poets of all ages have followed his example. 1 lie love of flowers seems to be a universal passion. Bundles of flowers covered the ta bles of the Greeks, and were worn during re pasts, because they were supposed to possess a virtue that reached the mind as well as tho sonses; and not only preserved the wearer from (Flo perfumes of wine, but refreshed his thinking faculties, preserving the purity of ideas and the gaiety of spirits. The rose) with other flowers, was placed on the altars of every god of affection and peace. They sprung up in every garden and grew in every bower. Flowers are delightfill to all. The tasteful Athenians, wlio Had a market for the sale of them, were obliged to pass sumptuary laws to restrain the extravagance of the purchasers. Cleopatra, when she melted the pearl for her wine-cup, trod on beds of flowers; and Nero, the cruel Nero, could only bo propitiated bv an offering of flowers. If historians are to be relied on, this tyrannical monster paid thir tythousand pounds for the flowers to ornament I one feast! and ages before his time. Tarquiti the Proud rested himself in his gardens after Iris massacre. These monsters were, at times’ ' kept from the scent of blood by the scent of flowers. Such was the passion over every mind in the east for flowers, that from them has been made a universal language of friendship, af fection and love. It. is one of no difficult ac ; quirement, and fragments of it have been dif fused far and wide; and these fragments have been caught in our own language. Sh iks peare displays his knowledge of these scraps of emblematic conversations, in his character of OpheliS: , ‘•There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance -—pray you, love, remember; and there is pan sies, that’s for thoughts. There’s fennel for you, and columbine; there’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o'Siv.n]-,vys. You may swear your rua with a difference. There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my fa her died.” This love of' flowers was widely diffused iu England among the common people. Their trivial names bear testimony to this partiality. There is hea.rt’s-ease, lady’s-deligiit, jump) and-kiss-tne, dec. and a host of such terms. When the courts of law were held in agricul tural counties in England, large assemblies of tho gentry flbeked to their towns; these courts were held in the summer, and floweis were brought in and scattered profusely around the judges on the bench of usticc. This was a relict of an ancient custuffi, and its observance was not calculated to do any harm. There was quite as much efficacy in these simple garlands of flowers, as i« the costly ennine worn by the judges on their robes; the former,’ at feast, refreshed the senses, white the armino was’ only an emMem of purity; and these flow ers iiicTicated as much the purity of their de cisions. as the ponderous wigs they weaf bear relation to their brains- Jloscs are ornaments of the attar of hymen) while vases of lilies are placed upon tho graves' of youth and innocence. On careful exatnin, at.ion, even in this age of philosophy, we shall find that flowers, have had a much greater ttioral influence than we have imagined. We have observed that the rose was offer ed to Isis in her sacred mysteries, and was to her the most acceptable of ah offerings. beautiful, but often misunderstood metamorpho sis of Apulius, gives to tha rose a tpagic effegt. —ln this fable Lucius is transformted into the Asineus Aureus, for having pursued a hYe of profligacy and vice; but becoming repentant, and hating the form he bore, Isis appeared to. him in a dream, and told him" that if he would push forward on’the day of h?r coming festi val, and take a mouthful of the roses thrown, by the princes upon her altar, that life wuliid 1