Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

jby ja.iies w. jgnes. Tho Southern Whig, rUULISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING. TERMS. Three dollars per annum, payable within six months after the receipt of the Hist 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. Wo subscription received for less than one year, unless the money is paid in advance; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, except at the option of the pub lisher. Persons requesting a discontinuance, of their Papers, ajpe requested to bear in mind, •a settement of their accounts. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not Specified, they will be continued until ordered out. , All Letters to the Editor or Proprietor, on matters connected with the establishment, must be post paid inorderto secure attention Notice of the sale »f Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sale of personal Property, in like manner, must be published forty days previous to the day of sale. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate must bo 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. For Advertising—Letters of Citation. 8 2 i 5 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, (40 days) 3 2*> Four Months Notices, 4 00 Aides of Personal Property by Executors, Administrators, or Guardians, 3 25 Sales of Land or Negroes by do. 4 75 Application for Letters ot Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged /5 cents for every thirteen lines of sin - 11 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, 31 00 per square. BOOK BIXUEKY, qpilE subscriber would respectfully inform ■- the Citizens of Athens and the public gen erally, that ho has established himself in the third Story of Mr. Teney’s Book Store, imme diately over the Southern VV big Office, where work will be executed at the shortest notice in all the various branches of his business. Blank Books made of all Sizes and Ruled to any given pattern. 1 J. C. F. CLARK. Athens, Sept. 2.3,—21 —ts JVV. JONES, is now receiving and open- . ing at his Store, his supplies of FALL GOODS, which combind with his former Stock, render his assortment very complete. English Straw X2onn©ts. A case ofhandsome English Straw and Florence Bonnets, just received and fur sale, by J. W. JONES. Oct. 14,-24—if 200 pairs Superior Negro Shoes for sale bv J. VV. JONES. Oct. 11,—21—tf GEORGIA CLARK COUNTY. Edward L. Thomas, Admin- v V istrator on the estate cf John W. Thom- 1 as, deceased, applies for letters of dismission. ; This-is therefore to cite and admonish all and singular the kindred and creditors of said de ceased, to be and appear at my office within the time proscribed by law, to shew cause (if any i they have) why sai l letters should not be grant ed. Given under my hand this l~lh July, 1837. G. B. HAYGOOD, d. c. c. o. July 22—12—6 m. GEORGIA, HALL COUNTY. HERE AS, Ambrose Kennedy, Adminis ■ ■ tratorofthe Estate ofEd ward-Harrison, deceased, applies ta me for Letters of dismission, This is therefore to cite and admonish all. and singular tbe kindred and creditors of said de ceased, to be and appear at my office within the time prescribed by law, to shew cause (ifanv they have) why said letters Should nOt be grant ed. . ’- Given under my hand, this 20th dav of Octo ber, 1837. E. M. JOHNSON, c. c. o. Oct. 21,—25—6m GEORGIA, CLARK COUNTY. IV HERE AS, Win. Thomas, Sr. Administra ** tor of Drury Thomas dec’d. applies for letters of dismission. This is therefore to cite and admonish all, and singular the kindred and creditors of said de ceased, to be and appear at my office within the time prescribed by law to shew cause (if any they have) why said letters should not be grant ed. G. B. HAYGOOD, d. c. c. o. August 5, —14—6m TpOUR months after date application wifi be ■*- nrule to the Inferior Court of Madison coun ty when siting for ordinary purposes, for leave to sell the land and negroes belonging to the estate of Benjamin Higginbotham, dec’d of said county. JAMES M, WARE, Adm’r. Oat. 7—23—4 m. InOUR MONTHS after date, application will be made to the Honorable, the Inferior Court ofMadison county, for leave lo sell the real Estate of Agnes Lawless, late of said coun ty, deceased. JOHN B- ADAIR, Adm'r. Sept. 16—20 171 OUR months after date, application will be made to the Honorable Inferior Court of Clark county, when sitting for ordinary purpose es, for leave to sell all the real Estate of Eliza beth Goodwin, late of said County deceased. THOMAS MOORE, Adm’r. Oct. 25—2a --- -4ni ffl I cv n it®. CCIX JIK C C &’♦ From the Philadelphia Saturday Chronicle. THE KXI&T’S HETl'lCi. BV HAWK VON STRETCHER. It was an Autumn eve: tbe cheerful sun Had sunk in splendour to his ocean rest; And twilight hastening on, Chased from the gulden West The last bright tints of day, and o'er the sky Flung sombre shades, and dim obscurity. A warrior from some distant field of strife, With hasty steps, strode o’er the spreading lawn; His brow was high and fair; And though the smile was gone From his pale lip, the brightly flashing eyo Token’d a heart that beat with passions high. A care-worn; man, though yet in manhood’s dawn, He gazed in silence on the ancient pile Where he was wont in } - outh, * The passing hours to while, 'Mid brooks, and shady groves, and alleys green, Where wild birds warbled to each sylvan scene, j And there was Ella’s home ! Those dark grey wails That fair domain was her own heritage, Last of a noble race, That lived upon the page Os high renown, she ruled with gentle grace O'er the old vassals of a knigtly race. How time, and chance, and change, camo over all: ] His path was laid beyond the stormy sea; And years had pass'd away, Slowly, and heavily, Since the deep tone of yonder Convent bell Bade the low whisper of the last—Farewell 1 And there he stood again—but all was changed! | Ths spider’s web hungon the oaken doer; And round the portal wide, Where flowershad bloom’d of yore. In scatter’d heaps—with russet moss o’er grown, Lay the loose fragments of the crumbling stone. With trembling hand he touch’d the ancient door: I It totter’d in his grasp, and crashing toll; While echo bore the sound, Like some loud-pealing knell, Through corridor, and hall, and vaulted dome, Where the sad owl shriek’d from her fitting homo, Sad!} - lie turn’d away, and sought the bowers Where Ella’s lute was ever wont to sound, While her sweet mellow voice Gave to the groves around, Where warbling birds joined in the chorus free, Pure songs of ancient love and chivalry. He listen'd—all was still! One yellow leaf On Ella’s oak, hung quivering in tbe breeze, The rest lay wither'd round; And faintly through the trees The wind of evening sigh’d its solemn breath, In mystic murmurs of decay and death 1 From his mail’d breast the warrior drew a trees Os bright >air Lair, which in thatsweret place, Amid the battle din, Where foes met face to face, Was safely hid, that Death alone might part The lov’d memento from his faithful heart. Once to his lips the silken lock was press’d— Once, for an in tant, flash'd bis changing eye, As the sweet relic touch'd The chords of memory; Then sank upon tbe sod his falling head, The hour of woe was past —the warrior’s soul had fled! Wilmington, Del. Nov., 1837. THE BLACKSMITH OF LIEGE. A Tale of the Burgundian Wa s. BY EMMA ROBERTS. “Those that feare n mailer commonly pro vide well for it, and have oftenergood successe than they that procede with a careless con tempt, unlessc God be fully resolved to strike the stroke, against whom man’s wisdoms can- I not prevaile. VV hich point is sufficiently pro i ved by the example of these Liegois, who had i been excommunicated the space of five years | for their variance with their Bishop, whereof ) notwithstanding they made no account, but i continued still in their folly and naughtinesse, • innoved thereunto oily through wealth and I pride. Wherefore King Lewis was.wout to j say that‘When pride ri'deth b .fore shame, a: d ! dammagc fellow after’.” \ Philip de Comines. “Never trust me, madam,” cried Jacquette, to her young mistress ; '‘but here is the wor shipful burgomaster, Wilkin do Retz. in his dress of estate, with two varlets i.i flaming liveries before him, knocking at the great gate as though he would beat it down.” “Well,” returned Linda, “and what is that to me? lie is come to make cheer with my kinsman; —brother, I suppose I must call him, since my poor mother thought fi to invest him with authority over me.” And perc. iv i g that her attendant was inclined to pro long the conversation, the fraulier. motioned I her away ; continuing to ply her needle with unconscious industry, while she pondered over her present situation, and future prospects. Linda VVilmsfelt was the daughter of a poor knight cf Brabant, and her mother, b ing re. duced to poverty at his disease, had subsequent ly accepted the hand of a rich burgess of Liege, who was a widower, with an only son. The burgass and his second wife were both in the grave, and the high spirited girl, proud of her nobje descent, and chafing over her scant} means, was left dependant upon her step-fa ther’s son; who though not destitute of good qualities, was, like the generality of his fellow ctlizdns, tyranical, conceited, and unpolished. Linda entertained a secret dread that her guar, dian would attempt to usurp an undue control over her; and she justly imagined that the gay attire of Wilkin de Retz h id riot been assumed without a purpose: she was therefore more displeased than surprised when she received a summons to attend her brother in the hall. Mustering all her courage, she descended to the apartment in which the two worthies were sitting in council together; and the m i’s rays streaming in through an open pane in the up per part of the window, catching the rich gold chains with which her visile; - had b: <1; eked himself, her eyes were dazzled by the reitil gence of these costly ornaments. It soon ap peared that the modest burgess trusted entii - - /v to these gauds,and to his velvet gown fttrr< d with miniver, lor the advimcem' nt of his suit; for he Reserved a soleniii faience, and I'ia: z K'ingsohr, the host, was obliged, after a few pr< hniinarv hems, to open the iicgociation, which had for its object a point of no less im portance than the disposal of the fair handol Linda Wilmsfclt. The iady, after the approv ed fashion ofgcntlu dames, declined th; - offer, “WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” JeJferSOn. I modestly, but firmly; the lover uttered a deep sigh which might indeed have been mistaken for u groan; but Franz, of a less imperturable temperament, burst forth into a torrent of in vective, and, after diiyys reproaches on the score of his ward’s obligations to his bounty, vaunted the extent of his own authority, and threatened to compel her to accept the orFer of his friend. All the spirit of Linda’s mar tial ancestors flashed out upon this insolent J menace. Coloring crimson with indignation, she exclaimed, “Sunk and low as are my for tunes, know, thou base slave of mammon, that ! I d. spise thy idol gold; and when next you [ take upon yourself to propose a match for the I daughter of a noble line, choose some fitting ) suitor; for I tell yon, sir, that if you cannot find a man of gentle birth within your city, I will send to the knight, Count Lothaire de Lcchtervelden, who now invests your gates; my jeopardy will excuse the iudclicacy-of the prayer, and should he reject my suit—which lie doubtless will, since I am abused by my connexion with a trader—rather than wed one of the upstart burghers of this vile city. I will ally myself to the lowest, and the meanest—ay, ! to the blacksmith that works beneath yon wall!” i Franz was dumb during this speech, mere ; ly from inability to find words strong enough Ito express his rage. Recovering himself, just I as Linda was sweeping out of the room in j triumph, he seized her by the hand, and mak i ing a strong effort to repress his wrath, desired I her to s >ek her chamber, mid remain a prison | cr there until she should be prepared to obey ' commands which he possessed the power to ! enforce.—Gladly flying from the spot, the fair i orphan rushed up to her dormitory; but felt a I little abashed when reflecting upon the loss of all her self-command, and the somewhat need less display of indignation which had provok ed her guardian to draw a heavy bolt across . her door, and to detain her in strict confinement, Iler rash speech had macle a deep impression upon Franz; he was most bitterly incensed by her allusion to the Count de Leclitervelden, ho was the scourge and the terror of the in habitants of Liege ; although at this time puf fed up with self-confidence, they despised his threat of reducing the city, and treated his ap. preaches with contempt. It was indeed scarcely possible for a place so strong and well fortified to entertain any apprehension from the slender force which the Burgundian knight could bring against it; but while the Legois felt perfectly secure of the impracticability of his efforts, th v would have given half their : citv, could the} , by that means, have get him into their power, and have been enabled to wreak their long cherished desire of vengeance upon his head. L -.thaite, entrenched in an impregnable fortress, siiuated on the summit nfa lull, which commanded the whole of the adj icc. t ceu..try, mid ovi rlooked the city of Liege, had, during more peaceable times, in consequence of a contract net unfrequent in those days, kept the road, from sunrise to sun. set, free from all robbers and spoilers; exact ing only such a toll from wayfaring passengers, in return for this s. rvice, as they were well able to pay. Even when the stipulated hour h.ui passed, and all stray travellers were.gen erally considered fair booty by the knight who patrolled the highways, living, as the phrase went, “by the saddle,” he despoiled them of neither lifo nor property, but took a moderate ransom, an 1 dismissed thmn in pe ice. Notwithstanding those courtesies, the tin. grateful Liegois hated the bold knight, who, it must be confessed, took great delight in show ing his powers ov< r, and iiis scorn of the grea sy Burghers, as he was wont lo call the lords and rulers of the city; and many - a time did hey a't in pt, with al! their puissance to dis lodge him from his tower of strengih; but he repelled their assaults, and obliged them to re treat sorely beaten, and miserably disgraced. And now that, the duke of Burgundy being em, broiled with the king of France, the people oi Liege had seized the opportunity to revolt, Lothaire mustered a small body of men at arms, threw up works, and laid regular siege to the city, Keeping it in check while his mas ter’s troops were otherwise employed. It was in vain that the garrison sallied out. resolved to put this contemptible force to flight; they were unable to carry the very weakest of the en trenchments, so admirably were they con structed, and so desperately did the Burgun dians defend thejt outposts: n®r were strata gems of more azail: they were discovered and turned upon the contrivers, —nay, at length, < Lothaire, to show his utter coi tempt for tUhur iiive: tion, and the accurate know ledge which he possessed of every thing that passed w th in the city, had the audacity to despatch a trumpet regularly every morning to the walls, with orders to proclaim aloud to the garrison the exact nature of the plans which tho coun cil of war meditated lor the day; and the en raged Li eg is having fired upon the flag ol truOe w hich accompanied thu embassy, and killed the bearer, he swore that he would hang twenty of th - ; delinquents before sunset, and kept his oath Stiii-g by his taunts, a picked troop made a snrti'*, and. fdiieg into an ambuscade, w hich j ho had prepared fur them, he erected a gallows in sight ot the : citv, and executed tho devoted number to a mini. This last merciless exploit raised the ire of all Liege; every mouth was filled with threats and imprecations, and con. ! fident expeetntio. s were eutertained that the j knight's head wotikl grace the market place i before twenty four hours should elapse; but a lew o ;ly of the warriors who sallied forth | to peiform the notable feat returned bootless j home; leaving the remainder dead, or wound ■ ed and prisoners in the enemy’s hands. i It was not surprising, therefore, that the ; name of the count de Lechterveldcn should bo ' poison in the car of a--Licgois; and Linda, as j gracious recollections of the kindness which I she had received from the family who had ; fostered bur from her infancy came across her : mmd, regretted her cut'ing sarcairns. Obey | ing therefore the ger.tlc impulse w hich prompt- I ed her to seek a reconciliation with herofiend- I ed kinsman, she despatched an humble and I penitent message by Jacquette, proving to be | forgiven. Franz,mistaking the motive for this concession, in the true spirit of his towns men, resolved to impose hard terms upon one who seemed w illing to submit; and refused to grant a par.lon wi hunt a promise from the t fir culprit to rec.-i.e his friend Wilkin tithe ' charttcGr of a lover; a requisition w hich Lin ' d.i tr ated wiih d:.-d. in ; and was, in cot.se ; qucnce, k. p! mor' - .-.'rictlv confined than ever, being even d. privi;! : I' Jacquvttc’s conversa- , lion. ! .digtiation at tie 'reatment which she ex. I pi rieiiced. <■>;bled Linda to pass thu first day I ol' her ciiplivily witbmit suffering from ennui; i bi't tilt l eo’id app "ar - d iiisi.'pportaW v tedious; | ami nred of her embr - . idcry, she staiioiicd her. (self at the window < f her apartment in the I Impe of find'm amusement in the passing scene I v ilhotit. The lat,lice overlooked the city wall. SATUKDAT, ECU.^S3S3IS. S 3, I 837. and was exactly opposite to the forge of tho blacksmith, whose hand she had declared her. self to be willing io accept in preference to that of Wilkin de Rejz. She had often seen the honest artizan before, without however re marking bis personal appearance; and she was surprised, and not a little shocked to per ceive that he w as a fine well proportioned man, with a set of remarkably 7 white teeth, and a pair cf dark flashing eyes; an enormous bush of hair on his face obscured his other features, and his skin was sogrimmed with his occupa tion. that he might have been mistaken for a Nubian; but altogether he possessed sufficient attractions to render tho surmise possible, that admiration claimed some share in the choice; and deeply mortified by the supposition that so unpleasant a construction might be placed upon her flippant declaration, Linda was suf ficiently punished for the heedless speech. "But her vexation did notend hi re ; the black smith, probably made acquainted, through the loquacity o f the servants, of .v.e flattering men tion of his name, was continually turning from his work to gaze at the window of the lady who had honored him with her regards; and though his demeanor was not disrespectful, a smilo played round his lips, and his eyes spoke eloquent things, if by chance they happened to encounter hers. Linda, driven away from the lattice by the too pointed admiration of her vulgar neighbor, passed the dreary hours in listless solitude. At night, however, when she cotlld look into the street without being visible herself, she re sumed her station. The forge had now be come a picturesqe object as it contrasted with the surrounding darkness. Its lurid fires spread a strong illumination around, display ing the swart figures which moved about in their red light, and- throwing out showers of sparks as the heavy hammer descended on the anvil; even the clink of these instruments sounded not unpleasingly on the ear; and the bustle, hilarity, and activity which prevailed, both within and without, afforded abundant entertainment for the spectator. Citizens were seen hurrying to and fro. bringing their weapons to be repaired; others led their clum sy, but highly conditioned horses to be shod; the pavement was strewed with armor, and the bright cuirass, and the polished lance, gleam ed in the light of the furnace. While sur veying tbo different persons thus busily en gaged, Linda could net avoid being struck by the superiority of the blacksmith over all the rest. Prompt, agile, ready upon every occa sion, be superintended the work of his satel lites, with an air which convinced her that he had been intended by nature fora superior sta tion. He had, moreover, a kind word and a joke for all; and remedying with Lis own hand any thing that was done amiss, sent away all his customers well satisfied. There was an exquisite grace and ease in his movements which surprised the fraulien; more especially as she perceived, that aware how ill it was suited t© his station, he sometimes affected a rustic and clownish manner—an appearance however which he could ill support; for if his attention happened to be called off, he forgot lo school his limbs and mien, and the agile spring, the dexterous elegant movement, all betrayed familiar acquaintance with camps and courts. Convinced that some mystery lurked beneath die proceedings of the blacksmith,became ex ceedingly interesting to the fair prisoner; and she was further assured that he was not ex actly what he professed to be. by remarking that when the forge was deserted and free from all visiters and lookers on, he never troubled himself with manual labor, though showing at other times considerable expertness at his trade. He seemed to be more familiar with the javel in than with the coulter, and when freed from the gaze of strangers, he lounged idly over hi a tools, or tilted against the wall, while his fel low mechanics paid him the most profound respect. It was in vain that she puzzled her self to fathom the secret; and tired at length with fruitless conjectures, she dismissed the subject from her mind, and began to consider how she could best recover her freedom. Franz was inexorable to -all her entreaties for pardon, and would accept of nothing less than unconditional obedience. The burgess had lately obtained an officii of some importance in the government of the city, —an elevation which he owed to bis friend Wilkin,—and having had thecasting vote in two instances, —in one of which he displayed his rigorous devotion to? justice, by dooming the criminal to the I lock,and in the other, his love of mercy, by favoring the more lenient party —he began to fancy that h« possessed the power of dispensing life and death. In consequence oi this opinion, bis aspect became so terrible, that tbe household scullions, who j had been wont to exchange familiar words with their old master’s son, fled from him in i dismay; and even the. turnspits hung their tails, and s;unk away as fast as their bandy legs could carry them rushing into the very jaws of the cook at. roasting time rather than lace so fierce a personage. There could bo no hope for Linda while her guardian continued to entertain these inflated notions of his own dignity; so she made up her mind to a prolonged imprisonment, and, from the mere ' necessity of taking exercise busied herself with I making alterations m tho disposition of the fur niture of her apartment. In removing a large press which, for sometime, bude defiance to her efforts, a piece of the arras hanging fell from the wall, and in endeavoring to replace it, she touched a secret spring. A pannel in the wainscot flew open, and disclosed an aperture, I which, upon inspection, proved to be the en trance to a flight of dark, narrow, winding j stairs. The necessity of procuring a light to guide her through the mazes of this passage, obliged the impatient girl to postpone her per egrinations until nightfall. A lamp was al ways sent in with her supper, and without an instant’s delaj, sho set forward upon an ad venture which she trusted would enable her to quit for ever a roof which hud now become odious. The stairs conducted her to a consid | erable depth below the surface of the earth ' and ended in a passage which she imagined, from the direction it took, must lead across tbe street. Advancing along this path, she was excessively alarmed by a noise which [ seemed to proceed from the very bowels of the earth; she paused,--her heart palpitated, and I the lamp nearly dropped from her hand; but I reflecting that the din of the city, the tramp of horses, and the roil ofcarts, would come with a strange and deadened sound upon her ears, she soothed her apprehensions bv attributing the extraordinary clamor to mitur d and com mon causes. Somewhat re-assured, she mov ed forward, and, -arriving at the end of the uas siige, another Slight of stairs presented itself: j these she ascended, and arrested a second time 1 by sin alarming sound, she < learly distinguish. I cd the hum ofvoic.es now close beside her. I rfhc paused again, and perceiving a chink in the wall, discovered that she was close to the forge. The stairs ran along tbe side of a sub terranean apartment immediately behind the blacksmith’s shop; and Linda was now a wit ness of a secret assembly in w hich the black ; smith himself, divested of his beard and other disguises, appeared to be the principal person- I age. A largi* excavation yawned in one cor ner of the room, through which the party as cended and descended, apparently giving or ders to Workmen bclew Linda listened breath, lessly to the debate, and stood aghast with horror at the words winch struck upon her ear. “Dolts! cravens! drones!” exclaimed the blacksmith, “had ye possessed the spirit ofyour brave comrades who went from the Burgun dian camp, we should have had the mine com pleted, and the two avenues joined long ago. Tell me not ot obstacle ! I never found one yet. ’Sdeath ! the duke our master will es cape the toils of Louis, and be at the gates to wrest the glory of the enterprise from our too ' tardy hands. By the eleven thousand virgins, and the three Kings of Cologne, I swear, that if the city be won without the assistance of tho troops of Charles, I will make you dukes and princes in the land; ye shall drink the health of Lothaire Lechtervelden from golden goblets—ay and that of the blacksmith’s bride. So bestir yourselves,ye loitering knaves; give ,me the splendid prize I pant to grasp. Here’s j. to Liege and Linda!” The terrified girl heard no more, but fled in * haste from the spot, resting not a moment tin. til she gained her own chamber; and now at no loss to account for tho noise made by the pix axes and spades, which were cutting a passage through the solid earth. Filled with tumultuous emotions, she was distracted by the multiplicity of feelings contending for mastery. Until this moment she had never suspected that the slightest danger threatened Liege: she, in common with the other inhabitants, consider ed the attempt of Lothaire in the light of an idle bravado undertaken merely to anoy the citizens; for even in the event of the hostile approach of the duke of Burgundy, no one ap prehended any serious evil, since all previous quarrels between that prince and his fickle sub jects had been made up, after a little blood- ( shed, by the payment of a heavy subsidy; the duke taking care to exact no more than the i city was very well able to give. But now if Lothaire should be permitted to execute his ! project unmolested, Liege would be sacked ! and placed at the mercy of a triumphant and i relentless foe. Could she look tamely-on and ) witness the destruction of a town which had ' given her shelter in her adversity ?—the plan- j der of its sanctuaries, and the massacre of its ; inhabitants? No, no; she would fly to the i council and apprise them of their danger; her | hand was already raised to give the alarm; i but tho image of Lothaire, pale, bleeding, ex- i ptring, by cruel and lingering torture, swam I before her, and sho paused. Were there no > means of saving him from an infamous and I painful death? Must he be cut off'in the ca- ■ rcer of his glory.—he whose gay sallies had! made her smile when smiles were strangers to ' her lips?—he who was so beautiful and so val- i taut, whose kindness and courtesy she had so i much admired, and who had, even while anti. ' cipating the co.;suinmation oi all his hones of' conquest, pronounced her name with tender, ness? She could not, would not betray him. Yet, again, how could she answer it to her con science to allow him to proceed unchecked in his ambitious purpose? Blood would be upon her soul, —tho cry of the widow and the or. j phau would rise up in accusation to heaven ! against her: she must be answerable for all the j violence committed by exasperated and brutal victors, and she sickened at the bare imagine. / tion of all the horrors which would befall the , hapless wretches sacrificed to her affection for a man, perchance unworthy of her love, j Pressing one hand upon her forehead, and the other over her heart, to still the throbbing pul. ; ses which caused its deep emot : ou,she strove ! to collect her scattered thoughts, and endea- ! vored to strike out some middle course by which she might preserve the city, and secure the life of the gallant Burgundian. Plan at. . ter plan prOtmted itself, only to be rejected. ; Linda knew that she dared not trust to tho most i solemn oaths taken by the rulers of Liege; | they had been too often perjured and forsworn ' to regard the disgrace and infamy attached to! their broken pledges, and she dared not hope ! that they would forego their long baffled tc. I venge upon one whom they feared and hated ! more deeply and more bitterly than the prince j of darkness himself. Morning came, and found the agitated girl still undecided how to act; but an incident, occurred which determined her to trust to tbe foes who threatened the gates, rather than to the ungrateful people of Liege. Franz, whose greatest fault consisted in his too ardent zeal in the service of the govern, was arrested at break of day, and drag. | ged to prison upon some frivolous charge; his ■ false friend, Wilkin de Retz, being the accuser. Aware that the disgrace of a person who had been entrusted with a share in the admmistra tion, wa.s invariably followed by death, Linda fol’ assured that her only chance of rescuing her kinsman from the block, rested in a suc cessful negotiation with Lothaire. She was fortunately not ignorant of the art of writing— an accomplishment rather uncommon in that period,—and she therefore needed no assist ance in her communication with the Burgun dian. She acquainted him with the extent of the knowledge which she had acquired, taking care to conceal the means, anil the circum. stance ot its being limited to her own breast; as she justly deemed that if he knew that his secret had been penetrate*! by one person alone and that a woman, he would contrive some means to prevent it from sprerdmg farther. She proceeded to declare her resolution to di. vulge the whole affair to the council, unless he and his followers would sign a solemnly at. tested treaty, guaranteeing the security of all personal property, and the safety of the inhab. itants from ii jury and insult; vv Inch document she required should be deposited at the shrine of the Virgin in the church of Notre Dame. Determined not to make a confidant, Linda prepared to be the bearer of her own despatch; and attiring herself in the garb of a page, she threw a cloak over her shoulders, and taking a lance in her hand under the pretence ofget- I ting a new point, she stole out cf the house, ol which she was now sole mistress, and repaired to tho forgo. The anvil sounded lowdlv ns she approached tbe shop, in which, as usual, half a dozen men were hard at work. The delicate appearance of the new customer no appear- ance which no art could conceal although Lin da had disguised lu rself cleverly enough,— excited tho merriment ol the boors who were busy at the forge. *• Vv hat silken spaik have you hero,"’ cried one, “ with his graudame’s bodkin to be beaten straight?” “ Gramcrcy,” exclaimed another, “ thou art a bold lad to trust thyself with a pointless lance; by’r lady, with a dozen such as thou, wc need not fear the Burgundian, <u gh Duke Charles himself headed the onslaught. G o thy ways, elf-ling, thou wilt find needles and thimbles at the tailor’s yonder; we deal not in such gear.” Somewhat abashed by this reception, yet resolved to stand her ground, Linda looked anxiously towards the master smith, and catch ing his eye, made him an expressive sign.— The workmen laughed, and whispered among themselves, repressing however the jests which sprang to their lips ; and Lothaire stepping forward, started with dismay and surprise as Linda, in a low distinct voice, pronounced his name, and putting a roll of paper in his hand, retreated ; the knight not daring to arrest her passage, lest he should be betrayed by the idlers in the street. Linda had ptepared for every thing; she would not return home lest bor footsteps should be watched, bet entered - a church in which she had already hidden disguise. Ar raying herself i;i a cloak and veil, which ren dered one female only distinguishable from another by the height and size of the wearer, she proceeded to Notre Dame, and stationed herself at a convenient distance from the shrine, choosing a spot in which she was not exposed to observation. Praying fervently for the suc cess of her plan, yet scarcely able to fix her thoughts upon the saint whose aid she sought, she anxiously awaited the time in which she might venture to hope for Lothaire’s reply. Many persons passed and repassed during the period of her anxious vigil, and having performed their orisons before the altar, with drew. At length the clock struck the ap pointed hour ; she tremblingly approached the spot, and. deposited in the niche 'CVliich she had named, she discovered and drew forth the answer of the Burgundian. It contained the pledge which she demanded, and although evidently wrung reluctantly from the knight’s hand bv the exigence of the moment, it was full, complete, and satisfactory; Linda doubted not that it would be held inviolate, since the honor of Lothaire de Lechtenvelden, whose name engrossed the parchment, had ever been unstained. Returning to her solitary home, Linda, aware that the crisis was at hand, stationed herself at a window to watch the event; having without exciting any attention, taken care to provide for the security of the house. The usual eve ning crowd had assembled round the forge, and the same bustle and activity as heretofore prevailed ; the blacksmith himself was absent; nevertheless, there was no lack ofgayety,—the loud laugh and the oft repeated burthen of some old song, resounded to the clank of the anvil, and the tall of the sledge-hammer. Gradually as upon former occasions, the assembly drop ped off, the fires decayed, and at length all was silent and deserted ; the Cyclops, appa rently tired ot their work, withdrawing to seek a few hours of repose.- Midnigh't approached, was passed, and all remained still and solitary as the grave. Short ly after the clock had struck the half hour, Linda's eyes piercing the deep shade, detected groups of two and three together stealing out. under the shade of the overhanging wall, and dispersing themselves noiselessly throughout the city. As the night advanced, the numbers thus emerging from the forge, increased, and one figure taller, more commanding than the rest, betrayed the disguised noble to the anx ious girl. Soon afterwards a signal struck the watchful Linda’s ear; the chimes of the ca thedral had been changed ; all still remained profoundly tranquil, and as the silvery sounds floated through the calm night-air, they seem ed to speak of peace and security, strongly at variance with ths coming strife. Another hour nearly passed; but then there arose a tumult in the city, at first faint, and ap parently no more than might be occasioned by some drunken brawl, but afterwards of a more alarming nature; bells tolled, and were suddenly stopped ; v indows and doors rattled; a cry of “ Treason” ran through the streets, mingled with the clashing of swords and the groans of the wounded. Many who would have,bestirred themselves, had they known the real cause, believed it to be a popular tumult, and remained quiescent. At length the drums beat to arms, the trum pets sounded, but all too late ; day dawned, and the bewildered Liegois found the arsenal and all the principal places in the hands of Count Lothaire.s men-at-arms, the garrison disarmed, and the magistrates in prison. The duke’s banners waved from every tower,stee ple, and pinnacle ; and, before ten in the morn ing, two of the most factious of the burgesses, men who had burned the Duke Philip and his son in effigy, reversing their arms as those of traitors, had been tried, condemned and execu ted, by their fallow.citizens, now anxious to make a grand display of loyalty. The heads ot these men, mounted upon poles, were stuck up at the principal gates also, at the instiga tion of their late colleagues. No other person suffered, and Franz, liberated from prison by the hand of Count Lothaire, led his deliverer to his sister’s feet, and gladlv gave his consent to the union with the “ Blacksmith of Liege.” THE BKEAKINK HEART. I know the only heart I prize Throbs for another now, And he has scaled his first warm kiss Upon her fair, pale brow. Her dark fringed eyes are turned to him, How fond, yet passion free, In vain I watch to meet their glance, They beam not thus on me. Her sweet voice falls upon his ear, With soft endearing tone, And sighs, that I would die to share, And breathe for him alone. While I stand near with burning cheek, And wildly throbbing heart, Marking with bitter agony My youth’s bright dreams depart. The}’ know not that Hove him thus, Nor shall they ever know, I would not have the cold world read My feelings, on my brow. I still will wear a joyous smile, Though joy itself be fled, And none shall ever mark the trace Os teara'in secret shed. LIKES AND DISLIKES. I dislike few things more than a hole in the toe cf my stocking ; and would marry no wo. man who would not pledge herself before hand to keen them all stopped. 1 dislike the great deference paid to wealth Vol. V—No. 34. without merif. I think no more of a man I»r being rich, 1 dislike a noisy, blustering, boisterous ( manner in a woman- It’s very tinladydike j and ungenteel,' let fashion say what it will. | I like a pretty, modest clean woman. I’m' a great advocate for cleanliness—cleanliness in every thing : a clean house—clean clothes 1 ■ —clean eating—clean every thing. Southern Literary Meitengeri CHRISTMAS. BY WASHINGTON HIVING.’ A man might then behold At Christmas, in each hall,' Good fires to curb the cold And meat for great and small, The neighbours were friendly bidden,' And all had welcome true, The poor from the gates were not chidden,' When this old cap waa new.' Old Son». There is nothing in England that exercises a more delightful spell over my imagination, than the lingering of the holyday customs and rural games of former times. They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morning of life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it; and they bring with them the flavour of those ancient days of yore, in which perhaps, with equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more homebred, social, and joyous than at present. I regret to say that they are daily growing more and more faint, being gradually worn away by time, but still more obliterated b} modern fashion. They resemble those picturesque morsels of Gothic architecture which we see crumbling in various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations of latter days. Poetry, howe ver, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural game and holyday revel, from which it has derived so many of its themes—as the ivy winds its rich foliage about the gothic arch and mouldering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasping together their totter, ing remains, and, as it were, embalming them in verdure. Os all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations. There is a tone of so. lemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The servi ces of the church about this season are ex iremely tender andas in spring : they dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its announcement : they gradually increase in fervour and pathos during the season of Ad vent, until they break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and good-will to men. I do not know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear tho full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony. It is a beautiful arrangement, also, derived from days of yote, that this festival, which commemorates the announcement of the reli gion of peace and love, has bi-eu made the sea son for gathering together offamily connexions and drawing closer again those bands of kin dred hearts, which the cares nnd pleasures and sorrows of the world are continually operating to cast loose ; of calling back the children of a family, who have launched forth into life, and wandered wider assu.ider, once more to assem ble about the paternal hearth, that rallying place of the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing me mentos of childhood. There is something in the very season of the year, which gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other times, we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of Nature. Our feelings sally forth and dissipate iheiusvlves over the sunny land, scaoe, and we “live abroad and every where.” The song of the bird, the murmur ot tha stream, the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the golden pomp of autumn ; earth with its mantle ot re freshing green, and heaven with its deep deli, cions blue and its cloudy magnificence,—all fill us with mute but exquisite delight, and wo revel in the luxury of mere sensation. Btrt m the depth of winter, when nature lies despoMad ofevery charm, and wrapped in het shrotkl of sheeted snow, weturn for our gratifications Co moral sources. The dreariness andd» - 8"l«tion of the landscape, the gloomy days and dark some nights, while they circumscribe oirr wan derings, shut in our feelings also from rambling abroad, ant) make us more keenly disposed for the pleasures of the social circle. Our thoughts are more concentrated ; our friendly sympathies more aroused. - We feel more reu siblv the chai m of each other’s society,-and‘are bro Jght more closely together by depeudenco on each other for enjoyment, Heart calleth unto heart, and we draw our pleasures from deep wells of living kindness which' li'o ih tfto quiet recesses of our bosoms; and which, when resorted to, furnish*forth thu [Hire ele ment of domestic felicity.- The pitchy gloom without makes' tlwrhtsart dilate on entering the filled with the glow nnd warmth of the cVefting fire. The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine through the room, and lights up each countenance into a kindlier welcome. Whvro does the honest face <>f hospitality expand i«k» a broader ami more cordial smite—wfiere tv the shy glance of love more sweetly eloquent —than by the winter fireside ? and as the hol low blast of wintry wind rushes through the hall,claps the distant ifowr, whistles abrntt th* casement, and nrinblcs di.wn the chimney, what can be more grateful than the feeling of sober and sheltered security, with which we look found upon the comfortable chamber, and the scene of domestic, hilarity ! « The English, from the great pi‘eValfen’o of rural habits throughout every class of society, have always been fond of those festivals and holy days which agreeably interrupt tho still ness of count i y life ; and they were in former days particularly observant of the religions and social rites of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry tfet.-rils whveh someanri qttai ii's have given of the quaint humoure, the burlesque pageants, the complete abandonment to mirth and good fellowship, with which thio festival was celebrated, It seemed to throw open every door, and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and blended all ranks into one warm, generous flow of j>y and kindness. Tho old halls of castles and in i >or. houses resounded with tho harp and the Chtistnrts carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of bn-qfiraltfy.