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BY JAMES W. J©YES.
Tho Southern Whig,
I'UItLISUHD EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
TERMS.
Three dollars per annum, payable within six
months after the receipt of the fust 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.
No 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,
■oftheir Papers, are requested to bear in mind,
a seUeine.nt oftheir accounts.
Advertisements will be inserted at the usual
rates; when the number of insertions is net
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
Qs* Notice ofthe sale of Land and Negroes, by
Administrators, Executors, or Guardians,
must be published sixty days previous to the
day of sale.
"Tlia 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
be published forty days.
Notice that Application will be made to the Court
of Ordinary for Leave to sell Laud or Ne
g.ocs, 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 montiis.
For Advertising—Letters of Citation. 8 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 50
Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cents
for every thirteen lines of snr 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
Hime as a new advertisement. For a single
insertion, §1 00 per square.
BOOK BINDERY,
THE subset iber would respectfully inform
the Citizens of Athens and the public gen
erally, that he has established himself in the
third Story of Mr. Teney’s Book Store, imme
diately over the Southern 55 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
i pat tern.
J. C. F. CLARK.
Athens, Sept. 23, —21—ts
"stow
JSV. JONES, is now receiving and open
. ing at his Store, his supplies of
FALL &, WUtfTZH G-GODS,
■which combind with bis former Stock, render
liis assortment very complete.
English Straw Scsuiots.
A case ofhandsome English Straw and Florence
Bonnets, just received and for sale, by
J. SV. JONES.
Oct. 14,-24—tf
K£GRO SxICSS,
200 pairs Superior Negro Slices for sale bv
J. W. JONES.
Oct. 14,—21—tf
TJpOUR months after date application will be
m ide to the Inferior Court of Madison coun
ty when siting for ordinary purposes, fur leave
to sell the land and negroes belonging to the
estate of Benjamin Higginbotham, dec’d of said
county.
JAMES M, SVARE, Adm’r.
Oct. 7—23—4 m.
GEORGIA, HALL COUNTY.
11 ERE AS, Ambrose Kennedy, Adminis
• ■ trator of the Estate ofEdward Harrison,
.deceased, applies tj me 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.
Given under my hand, this 20lh day of Octo
ber, 1837.
E. M. JOHNSON, c. c. o.
Oct. 21,—25—6m
GEORGIA, CLARK COUNTY.
MY? HERE AS, 55 m. Thomas, Sr. Adminisira
* * tor of Drury Thomas dec’d. applies for
letters of dismission.
This is therefore to cite and admonish all, and
singular ths 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, n. c c. o.
August 5, —14—6 m
It OUR MONTIIS after date, application will
be made to the Honorable, the Inferior
Court ofMadison county, for leave to sell the
real Estate of Agnes Lawless, late of said coun
ty, deceased.
JOHN B ADAIR, Adm’r.
Sept. 16—20
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. 28—26—4 m
GEORGIA CLARK COUNTY.
Edward L. Thomas, Admin
ww istrator on the estate of John SV. Thom
as, deceased, applies for letters of dismission.
This is therefore to cite and admonish all and
singular the kindred and creditors of said de-I
ceased, to be and appear at my office within the ■
time prescribed by law, to shew cause (if any ;
they have) why sai l letters should not be grant- -
pd. Given uuder my hand this 17th Julv, 1837.
G. B. HAYGOOD, n. c. c. o.
July 22— 12—6 m,
niUniT,
From the Louisville Journal.
Tin: PARTED YEAR.
The parted year hath passed away unto that dreamy
land,
sVhere ages upon ages sleep, a mighty slumbering
band,
And, like a blood-stained conqueror grown weary of
renown,
Hath yielded to the new-born year his sceptre and his
crown.
flushed now should bo each tone of glee, unquaft 1
the sparkling wine,
IVhile Love and Grief bow hand in hand at Memory’s
sacred shrine,
E’en haughty Pride should humbly bend down from his
lofty steep,
And from the banquet laughing Mirth should turn aside
and weep.
Unwearied Thought with solemn brow droops o’er the
heart’s deep urn.
And traces on its glowing page—“ The Past will ne’er
return
While Fancy, from her starry flight, returns with mourn
ful eye,
And, folding up her rain-bow wing, stands meekly
pensive by.
Hark I die low winds arc sighing now o’er the departed
year,
And gathering in din. autumn leaves to strew upon his
bier,
While the tall trees stand leafless round unstirred by
summer's breath,
Like mourners rest of every hope above the couch ol
death.
But now the sepulchre of years hath closed its portals
o’er
The form of the departed year in silence as before,
And the New Year with stately tread stalks slowly o’er
the earth,
Robed in the garments of his state, a monarch from his
birth.
Could we but lift the mildewed veil o'er buried ages
cast,
And bring to light the darkened things that slumber with
the past,
Sad myseries, undreamed of now, one glance would
then unfold,
And many other m ,urnful things, too mournful to be
told.
The cold, the dead, the beautiful, e'en now they silent
pa.-s,
Like floating shadows, one by one, o’er Memory's
faithful glass.
And Hope and Love start fondly up to greet them as of
yore,
But something whispers unto each, be still they are no
more.
Time, ceaseless Time, we know not when tliy wand r
ing began,
The dreamy past is sealed to us, the future none may
scan;
We only know that round thy path dark ruins have
been hurled,
That 'nea’.h thy wing Destruction rears his altars o’er
the world.
E’en Science from his eagle-height so little can foresee,
He silent turns abashed away if we but ask of thee,
And if to Eloquence we turn mute is her silver-tongue,
As if upon her spirit’s lyre the dews of death were hung.
Still onward, onward, thou dost press with slow and
measured tread,
Peopling with cold and lifeless forms the cities of ths
dead,
I Throwing around the young and fair the shadow of thy
wing,
And stealing from each human heart some loved and
cherished thing.
Yet deep, deep in each thrilling heart one fount remain
ed! still,
55’hich hoary Time nor icy Death hath power to touch
or chill ;
It is the holy fount of love, whose waters hallowed lie,
Filled from that everlasting source, the well-spring from
on high.
55 r e cannot stay tby foot-steps, Time ! thy flight no hand
may bind,
Save His whose foot is on the sea, whose voice is in the
wind,
Yet when the stars from their bright spheres like living
flames arc hurled,
Thy mighty form will sink beneath the ruins of the
world.
AMELIA.
Mwieos asssl Daimonos.
A LEGEND BY KVLWBB.
I am English by birih, and inv earlv years
went passed in *** **. I had m ith< r bro.
ihers nor sisders ; my mother died when I was
in the cradle ; aud I found try sole companion,
tutor, and playmate in my father. He was a
yr unger brother of a nobltfand ancient house;
what induced him to (l-rsake his country and
his friends, to abjure all society, and to live on
a rock is a story in itself, which has nothing
to do with mine.
z\s ihc Lord liveth, I b -’ive the tale th.it I
shall tell you will have sufficient claim on veur
atte tion, without calling in the history of an
otherto preface its most exquisite details, or to
give interest to its most amusing events. I
said my father lived on a rock—the whole
country round sc. med no.hing but rock! —
waste, bleak, bla- k, dreary; trees stunted, lur.
bilge blasted ; caver.is, through which some
black and wild stream (that never knew star
or su..light, but through rare and hideous chasms
of the hngesto: cs above it) went dashing acai
howling on its blessed covrse ; vast c'ifls, co
vered willi eternal snows, where the birds of
prey lived, and sent in screams and discord
ance, a grateful and meet music to the heavers,
which seemed too cold and barren towear
even n'ouds upon their wan, gray, comfortless
expanse: these made the character of that
country w here the spring of my life sickened
itself away. 4’he climate which, in the milder
parts of ***** relieves the nine months of
winter with three months of an abrupt and
autumidess summer, never seemed to vary in
the gentle and sweet region in w Inch my home
was pluCed. Perhaps, fora brief interval, the
snow in the valleys melted, ned the streams
swe'led, and a blm-. ghastly, unnat.iral kind of
vegetation seemed here and there to mix
w ilii the rude lichen, or scatter a grim smile
over minute particles of the u .iv< rs.fl rock ;
but to these witnesses ofthe changing season
were the summers of my box hood confine;!.
My father was addicted to the sciences—the
phvsical sciences—and possessed b it a mode,
r.ite share of learning in uuy thing else: he
taught me al! he knew ; and the rest of my
education, Nature, in a savage and stern guise,
instilled iu my heart b\ : silent but deep lessons.
She taught my J’eet to b >uud, and my unu t<>
“WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT DEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF lIIE ACT IS IHE RIGHTFUL REMEDY. JefeiSOU.
ATBEft’S, (BORGIA, SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1838.
smite ; she breathed life into my passions, and
>hed darkness over my temper ; she taught
me to cling to her, even in her most ragged
and unalluring form, and to shrink from all
else—from the companionship of man, and the
soft smiles of woman, and the shrill voice of
childhood and the ties, and hopes, and sociali
ties, and objects of human existence, as from a
torture ana a curse. Even in that sullen rock,
and beneath that tingenial sky, I had luxuries
unknown to the palled tastes of cities, or to those
who woo delight in an air of odours atid in a
land of roses! What were those luxuries?
They had a myriad of varieties and shades of
enjoyment—they had but a common name.
What were those luxuries? !
My father died when I was eighteen : T was
transferred to my uncle’s protection, and I re
paired to London. I arrived there, gaunt and
stern, a giant in limbs and strength, and to the
tastes of those about me, a savage in bearing
and tn mood. They would have laughed, but
I awed them ; they would have altered me, but
1 changed them-, I threw a damp over their
e - juyment, and a cloud over their meetings,—
Though I said little, though I sat with them,
estranged and silent,and passive, they seem 'd
to wither beneath my presence. Nobody could
live with me and be happy, or at ease ! I felt
it, and I hated them that they could not love
me. Three years passed—l was of age—l
demanded my fortune—and scorning social
life, and pining once more for loneliness, I re
solved to journey into those unpeopled and fat
lands, which if any have pierced, none have
returned to describe. So I took my leave of
them all, cousin and aunt—ana when I came
to my old uncle, who had liked me less than
any, I grasped liis hand with so friendly a
gripe, that, well I ween, the dainty and nice
member was but little inclined to its ordinary
functions in future.
I commenced my pilgrimage—l pierced the
burning sands—l traversed tho vast deserts—
I came into tho enormous woods of Africa,
wliero human step never trod, nor human voice
ever startled the thrilling and intense solemni
ty that broods over the great solitudes, as it
brooded over chaos before the world was!
T’here the primeval nature springs and perish
es, undisturbed and unvaried by the convul
sions ofthe surroumliiig world; the leaf be
comes the tree, lives through its uncounted
ages, falls aud moulders, and rots aud vanishes,
unwitnessed in its mighty ana mute changes,
save by the wandering lion, or the wild ostrich,
or that huge serpent —a hundred times more
vast than the puny boa that the cold limners of
Europe have painted, and whose bones the
vain student has preserved as a miracle and
marvel. 4’herc, too, as beneath the heavy and
dense shade 1 couched in tho scorching noon,
I heard the trampling as of an army, and the
crush nid fall of the strong tre s, aud beheld
through the malted boughs the behemoth pass
o;j its t rnblu way, with its eyes burning as a
■on, audits white teeth glistening the rapid
j iw, as pillars of spar glitter in a cavern ; the
monster to whom only those waters are a home,
and who never, since the waters rolled from the
Die Jal earth, has been given to human gaze
and wonder but my own ! Seasons glided on,
but I counted them not; they were not doled
to me by the tokens of man, nor made sick to
me by the changes of his base life, and the
evidence of his sordid labour. Seasons glided
on, and my youth ripened into manhood, and
manhood grew gray with the firs, frost of age :
and then a vague and restless spiiit fi ll upon
me, and I said mmy foolish heart,‘l will look
upon the countenances of iny race once more !’
I retraced mv steps —I recrossed the wastes —
I re entered the cities—l took again the garb
of man; fori had been hitherto naked in tho
wilderness, and hair had grown over me as a
garni nt. 1 repaired to a seaport, and took
ship for England.
In the vessel there was one man, and only
I one, who neither avoided my companionship
I nor recoiled at my frown, lie was au idle
I and curious being, full of tho frivolities, and
egotisms, and importance of them to whom
towns are homes, and talk has become a men
tal ailment. Lie was one pervading, irritating,
offensive ti-suc of little and low thoughts. 4'he
onlv meanness lie had not was fear. It was
! impossible to awe, to silence, or to shun him.
■ He sought me for ever ; he was as a blister to
I me, winch no force could tear away: my soul
‘ grew fai.-t wh a my eyes met his. He was
i to my sight as those creatures which from their
■ verv loathsomeness are fearful as well as des
i picable to us. I longed and yearned to stran
l gle liitii win u lie adrhessed me ! Often 1 would
i h .ve laid my hand on him. and hurled him
'j into the'sea to the sharks, which, lynx es ed
' and eag-ir j .wcd, swam night and day around
I our si:in ; but the g zeof many was on us, and
I I embed myself, and turned away, and shut
; mv ei es in very sickness ; and v hen I opened
| ilr m again, 10l he was by my side, and his
I sharp, quick voice grated, in its prying, and
I asking, and torturing accents, on my loathing
and repugn.:tit ear! One night I was roused
■ firm my sleep by the screams and oaths of
| men, and 1 hastened on deck : we had struck
I upon a rock. It was a ghastly, but oh Christ!
!h iw glorious a sight! .Moonlight still and calm
■ ihe sea sleeping in saphires ; and in the midst
i of the silent aud soft repose of all things, three
, hundred n:.<! fifty souls were to perish from
ihe world! I sat apart, and looked on, and
! aided no’. A voice crept like an adder’s hiss
' upon my car; I turned, and saw my tormentor;
i the moonlight fell ou*his face, a: d it grinned
' with the maudlin grin of intoxication, and his
I pale blue eye glistened, and ho said,‘We will
; not part even here!’ Bly bhvil ran coldly
' ihrough mv veins, and I would have thrown
' him i: t > th;: ser, which now came fast upon
i us ; but the rn ><»:flight was on linn and I did
■ not dare to kill him. But I would not stay to
! perish with the herd, and I threw myself alone
j from the vess-.' I and swam towards a rock. I
I saw a shark dart after inc, but I shunned him,
j and the moment after he had plenty to sate his
maw. 1 braid a crash, mingled with a
wild burst of anguish, the anguish of three
hundred and fifty hearts that a minute after
ward were stilled, and I said in my own heart,
with a deep joy, ‘His voice is with the rest,
I and we have parted !’ I gained ihe shore, and
i lay down to sleep.
4he next mor.-iug my eyes opened upon a
Im d more beautiful than a Grecian’s dreams.
4'he sun had just risen, and laughed over
streams of silver, mid trees bending with gol
den and purple fruits, anil the diamond dew
sparkled trom a sod covered with flowers,
whose fin-test breath was a delight. 4'en
thousand birds with aft the huesofa northern
rainbow blended in their gioriot s and growing
wings, rose f.om turf and lr_o, and loaded the
air w uh melody and gladness; tho sea, without
a vestige, of ihe past destruction upon its glassy
brow, n urninied at my feet ; the heavens with
out a id"ipl, aud bathed in a licjnid and radiant
lighi, s;ji t diit: bieties a biw-sii’g to my
cheek. I rose with a refreshed and light
heart; 1 traversed the new home I had found ;
I climbed upon a high mountain, and saw that
I was on a small island—it had no trace of man
--and my heart swelled as I gazed around and
cried aloud tn my exultation, ‘I shall be alone
again !’ 1 descended the hill : I had not yet
reached its foot, when I saw the figure of a
man approaching towards me. I looked at
him. and my heart misgave me. He drew
nearer, and I saw that my despicable persecu
tor had escaped the waters, and now stood
before me. He came up with a hideous grin
and his twinkling eye ; and he flung his arms
round me, —I would sooner have felt the slimy
folds of the sqrpenl, —and said, with his gra
ting and harsh voice, ‘ Ila ! ha ! my friend, we
shall b° together still!’ I looked at him, bl!’
I said not a word. There was a great cave,
by the shore, and I walked down and entered
it, and the man followed me. ‘We shall live
so happily here,” said he, ‘ we will never se
parate !’ And my lip trembled, and my hand
clenched of its own accord. It was now noon,
and hunger came upon me; I went forth and
killed a deer, and I brought it home and broiled
part of it on a fire of fragrant wood ; and the
man cat, and crunched, and laughed, and I
wished that the bones had choked him ; and
he said, when we had done, ‘ 55'e shall have
rare cheer here!’ —But I still held my peace-
At last he stretched himself in a corner ol the
cave and slept. I looked at him, and saw that
the slumbei was heavy, and I went out and
rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the cavern,
and took my way to the opposite part of the
island ; it was my turn to laugh then ! I found
out another cavern; and I wrought a table of
wood, and I looked out from the mouth of the
cavern and saw the wide seas before me, at.d
said ‘ Now I shall be alone !’
When the next day came, I again went out
and caught a kid, and brought it in, and pre
pared it as before ; but I was not hungered, and
could not eat; so I roamed forth, and wander
ed over the Island: the sun had nearly set
when I returned. I entered the cavern, and
sitting on my bed and by my table was that
man whom 1 thought I had left buried alive io
the other cave. He laughed when he saw me,
and laid down the bone he was gnawing.
“ Ila! ha!” said he,“ you would have serv
ed me a rare trick ; but there was a hole in
the cave which you did not see, and I got out
to seek you It was not a difficult matter, for
the island is so small ; and now we have met,
and we will part no more!”
I said to the man, “Rise and follow me!”
So he rose, and I saw that of ail my food he
had left only the bones. “Shall this thing
reap and I sow?” thought I, and my heartfelt
to me like iron.
I ascended a tall cliff: “Look round,” said
I, “ you sec that stream which divides ihe isl
and : you shall dwell on one side, and I on the
other ; but the same spot shall not hold us, nor
the same feast supp'y 1”
“ That may never be !” quoth tho man ; “for
I cannot catch the deer, nor spring upon the
mountain kid ; and if you feed me not, I shall
starve !”
“Are there not fruils.” said I, “and birds
that vou may snare, aud fishes which the sea
throws up ?”
“ But I like them not,” quoth the man, and
laughed, “so well as the flesh ot kids and
deer!”
“Look then,” said I, “look : by that gray
stone, upon the opposite side of the stream, 1
will lay a deer or a kid daily, so that you may
have the food you covet ; Lut if ever you cross
the stream, and come into my kingdom, so sure
as the sea murmurs, and the bird flies, L will
kill you!”
I descended the cliff, and led the man to the
side of the stream. “I cannot swim,” said
he ; so I took him on my shoulders and crossed
the brook, and i tout) 1 him out a cave, and I
made him a bed and a table like my own, and
left him. When I was on my own side ofihe
stream again, I bounded with joy. and lifted up
my voice ; “ I shall be alone now,” said I.
So two days passed and I was alone. On
the third L went after my prey ; the noon was
hot and I was wearied when I returned. I
entered my cavern, and behold the man lay
stretched on my bed. “Ila! ha !” said he,
“ here I am : I was so lonely at horns that 1
have come to live with you again !”
I frowned on the man with a dark brow,
and I said, “ So sure as the sea murmurs, and
the bird flies, I will kill ybu 1” I seized him
in my arms ; I plucked trim from my bed ; I
took him out in the open air; and we stood
together on the smooth sand and by the great
sea. A fear came suddenly upon me ; 1 was
struck by the awe oft!t3 Still Spirit which
reigns over solitude. Had a ik.-usaud ““en
round us, I would have slain him before them
all. I feared now because we were alone m
the desert, with sflonce and God ! I relaxed
my hold, ‘Swear,’ I said, “never to molest
me again ; swear, to preserve unpassed the
boundary of our several homes, and I will not
kill you!” “ 1 cannot swear,” said the man,
“ I would sooner die than foreswear the bless
ed human face—even though that face be my
enemy’s !”
“ At these words my rage returned ; I flash
ed the man to the ground, and jl put my foot
upon liis breast,.and my hand upon his neck ;
and he struggled for a moment —and was di. ad!
I was startled: and as I looked upon his face
I thought it sec med to revive ; I thought the
cold blue eye fixed upon me, and the vile grin
returned to the livid mouth, and the h.i ids
which in the death.pang had grasped the sa-.d,
stretched themselves out to me. So I stamped
on the breast again, and I dug a hole in the
shore, and I buried the body. “ And now,”
said I,“ I am alone at last 1” • And then the
sense of loneliness, the vague, vast, comfortless,
objectless sense of desolation passed into me.
And I shook—shook in every limb of my giant
frame, as if I had been a child that trembles in
the dark ; ami my hair rose, and my blood
crept, and I would not have staid in that spot
a moment more it I had (jeen made yung ag:.i i
for it. I turned away and fled—tied round
tho whole island ; and gnashed my teeth when
I came to the sea, and longed to bo cast into
some ilimitable desert that I might, fleo o i for
ever. At sunset I returned to mv cave—l sal.
myself down on one corner of tho bed, and
covered my face with my hands—i thought I
heard a noise : I raised my eyes, and, as I live,
I saw on the other end of the bed the mm
whom I had slain and buried. 4'here he sat.
six feet from me, and nodded to me, and looked
at me with bis waneyi .s and laughed. I rush
cd from the cave—l entered a wood—l threw
tnyself down—there opposite to me, six t it
from my face, was the face of that man 1 And
my c.Turrfgc rose, and I spoke, but h ■ ans ver
ed not. 1 attempted to seize him. he glided
from my grasn aud was still opposite, six feet
from mo as before. I flung mvselt o i the
ground, anil picsseJ my head to the sod, and
would not look up till night came on, and dark
ness was over the earth I then rose and re.
turned to the cave : I laid down on the bed,
and the man lay down by me ; and I frowned,
and I tried to seize him as before, but I could
not, and I closed my eyes, and the man lay by
me. Day passed on day, and it was the same.
At board, at bed, at home and abroad, in my
up-rising and down sitting, by day and at night,
there, by my bed-side, and six feet from me,
and no more, was that ghastly thing. Andi
said, as I looked upon the beautiful land and
still heavens, and then turned to that fearful
comrade, “ I shall never be alone again?’’—
And the man laughed.
At last a ship came, and I hailed it—it took
me up, and I thought, as I put my foot on the
deck, “I shall escape my tormentor!” As I
thought so, I saw him climb the deck too, I
strove to push him down into the sea, but m
vain ; he was by my side, and he fed and slept
with me as before! I came home to my na
tive land ! I forced myself into crowds—l
went to the feast, and I heard music—and I
made thirty men sit with me, and watch by day
and by night. So I hid thirty-one compan
ions, atid one more social than all the rest.
At Inst I said to myself, “ This is a delust°'-i,
and a cheat of the external senses, and the
thing is not, save in my mind. 1 will consult
those skilled in such disorders, and I will be
alone again !”
I summoned one celebrated in purging from
the mind’s eye its Aims and deceits—l bound
him by an oath to secrecy—and I told him
my tale. He was a bold man and a learned,
and he promised me relief and release.
“Where is the figure now,” said he, smi
ling ; “ I see it not.”
And I answered,“lt is six feet from us!”
“I see it not,” said he again : and if it were
real, my senses would not receive the image
less palpably than yours.” And he spoke to
me as schoolmen speak. I did not argue or
reply, but I ordered my servants to prepare a
room, and to cover the floor with a thick layer
of sand. When it was done, I bade the Leech
follow me into the room, and I barred the door.
“Where is the figure now?” repeated he,and
I answered, “ Six feet from us as before !”
And the Leech smiled. “ Look on the floor,”
said I. and I pointed to the spot; “ what see
you?”—And the Leech shuddered, and clang
to me that he might not fall. “ That sand,”
said he, “ was smooth when he entered, and
now I see on that spot the print of human feet!”
And I laughed, and dragged my living com
panion on : “See,” said I, “ where we move
what follows us!”
The Leech gasped for breath ; “ the print,”
said he, “ of those human feet!”
“ Can you not minister to me then ?” cried
I, in a sudden fierce agony : “and must I ne- i
ver be alone again ?”
And I saw the feet of tho dead thing trace
one word upon tho sand ; and the word was
—NEVER.
From “‘lncidents of Travel,” by an American. '
THE RUINS OF ANCIENT SAMARIA.
Leaving the valley, we turned up to the
right, and, crossing among the mountains, in
two hours came in sight of the ruins of Sebas
te, the qncient Samaria, standing upon a sin
gularly bold and insulated mountain, crowned
with ruins. The capital of the ten tribes of-
Israel, where Ahab built his palace of ivory ;
where, in the days of Jereboam, her citizens
sat in the lap of luxury, saying to their masters,
“come and let us drink,” destroyed by the As
syrians, but rebuilt and restored to more than
its original splendor by Herod, now lies in the
state foretold by the prophet Amos; “her in
habitants and their posterity are taken away.”
The ancient Sumarians are all gone, and
around the ruins oftheir palaces and temples
are gathered the miserable huts of ’he Arab
Fellahs. Climbing up the precipitous ascent
of the hill, we came to the ruins of a church,
or tower, or something else, built by our old I
friend the Lady Helena, and seen to great ad
vantage from the valley below. The L idy
Helena, however, did not put together all this
stone and mortar for the picturesque alone ;
it was erected over, and in honor of, the prison
where John the Baptist was beheaded, and his
grave. I knew that this spot was guarded j
with jealous care by the Arabs, and that none j
but Mussulmen were permitted to see it; but j
this did not prevent my asking admission ; and
when the lame shiek said that none could enter
without a special order from the pa~ha, Paul ra
ted him soundly for thinking we would be such
fools as to coins without one : and, handing
him our travelling firman, the shiek kissed the
seal, and, utterly unable to determine for him
t self whether the order was to furnish me with
horses cr admit me to mosques, said he knew
he was bound to obey that seal, and do what
ever the bearer told him, and hobbled off to
get the key.
Leaving our shoes at the door, in one cor
ner of the enclosure, we entered a small mosque
with white washed walls, hung with ostrich
eggs, clean mats for the praying Mussulmen
a sort of pulpit, and the usual recess of the
Kebal. In the centre of the stone floor was a
hole opening to thu prison below, and, going
outside and descending a flight of steps, we
came to the prison chandler, about eight paces
square; the door, now broken and leaning
against the wall, like the doors in tho sepal
chres of the kings at Jerusalem, was a slab
cut from the solid stone, and turning on a pivot.
On the opposite side were three small holes,
opening to another chamber, which was the
tomb of the Baptist. 1 looked in, but all was
dark ; the Mussulmen told me that the body
only was there; that the prophet was behead
ed at the request of the wife of a king, and I
forget where he said the head was. This
may be the prison where the great forerunner
ol the Lord was beheaded ; at least no man
can say that it was not ; and leaving it with
the disposition to believe, I ascended to the
ruined palace of Herod his persecutor and
murderer. Thirty orfortv columns were still
standing the monuments of the departed great
ness of its former tenant. On one side, towards
the northeast, where are the ruins of a gate,
there is a double range of lonic columns. I
counted more thm sixty, and from the frag
merits I was constantly meeting, it would seem
as if a double colonnade had extended all
around.
Ihe palace of Herod stands on a table st*
land on the very summit of the hill, overlook
ing every part of the surrounding country;
and such was the exceeding softness and
beauty of (he scone, even under the wilderness
and waste of Arab cultivation, that the city
seamed smiling in the midst of her desolation.
All around was a beautiful valley, watered
by rmring streams, and covered bv a rich
carpet ol grass, sprinkled with wild flowers of
every hue, and beyond, stretched like an open
book before me, a boundary of fruitful mottn-
tnins, the vino and the olive rising in terraces
to their very summits; there, day after day,
the haughty Herod had sat in his royal palace :
and looking out upon ail these beauties, bis
heart had become hardened with prosperity ;
here, among these still towering columns, the
proud monarch had made a supper “to his
lords, and high captains, and chief estates of
Galilee;” here the daughter of Herodias,
Herod’s brother’s wife, “danced before him,
and the proud king promised with an oath to
give her whatever she should ask, even to the
half of his kingdom.” And while the feast
and dance went on the “head of John the Bap
tist was brought in a charger and given to the
damsel.” And Herod has gone, and Herodias,
Herod’s brother’s wife, has gone, and “the
lords and the high captains, and the chief es
tates of Gaflilee” are gone; but the ruins of
the palace in which thev feasted are still here :
the mountainsand valleys which beheld their
revels are here ; and oh, what a comment upon
the vanity of worldy greatness, a fellah was
turning his plough around one of the columns.
I was sitting on a broken capital under a fig
tree bv its side, and. I asked him what were the
ruins that we saw ; and while his oxen were
quietly cropping the grass that grew among
the fragments oi'ihe mable floor, he told me
that they were the ruins of the palace of a
king—he believed of the Christians; and while
pilgrims from every quarter of the world turn
aside trom their path to do homage in the
prison of his beheaded victim, the Arab who
was driving his plough among the columns of
his palace knew not the name of the haughty
Herod. Even at this distance of time I look
back with a feeling of uncommon interest upon
my ramble among those ruins, talking with the
Arab ploughman of the king who built it, lean
ing against a column that perhaps had often
supported the kaughtiy Herod, and looking out
from this scene of desolation and ruin upon the
most beautiful country in the Holy Land.
THE BETRAYED YOUTH.
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.
A few years ago, a rich green bleecher in
the north of Ireland had been frequently rob
bed at night to a very considerable amount,
notwithstanding the utmost vigilance of pro
prietor and his servants to protect it; and
without the slightest clue being furnished lor
the detection of the robber.
Effectually and repeatedly baffled by the in
genuity of the thief or thieves, the proprietor
at length offered a reward of .£IOO for the
apprehension of any person or persons detec
ted robbing the green.
A few days after this proclamation, the
master was at midnight roused from his bud by
the alarm of a faithful servant, “there was
somebody with a lanthern crossing the green.”
The master started from his bed, fled to the
window—it was so—he hurried ou his clothes
armedjhimself with.pistols ; the servant flew t for
his loaded musket, and they cautiously follow
ed the light. Tho person with the lanthern
(a man) was as they approached, on tip-toe,
distinctly seen groping on the ground ; he was
seen lifting and tumbling the linen. The ser
vant fired, and the robber fall. The naan and
master now proceeded to examine the spot.
The robber was dead : he was recognized to
be a youth about nineteen, who resided a few
fields off. The linen was cut cross; bundles
of it were tied up ; and upon searching and
examining farther, the servant, in the presence
of his master, picked up a penknife, with tho
name of the unhappy youth engraved upon the
handle. The evidence was conclusive, for
in the morning (lie lanthern was acknowledged
by the afflicted and implicated father of the
boy to be his lanthern. Defence was dumb.
The faithful servant received the hundred
pounds rewa rd, and was besides promoted to
be the confidential overseer of the establish
ment.
This faithful servant, this confidential over- '
seer, was shortly after proved to have been
himself the thief, and was hanged at Dunkaid
for the muider of the youth whom he had
cruelly betrayed.
It appeared upon the clearest evidence, and
by the dying confession and description »f the
wretch himself, that all this circumstantial evi
denee was preconcerted by him, not only to
screen himself from the imputation of former
robberies, but to get the hundred pounds re
ward.
The dupe, the victim he chose for this dia
bolical purpose, was artless, affectionate, and
obliging.—'i’he noy had a favorite knife, pen- I
knife, with his name engraved upon its handle, i
The first act of this fiend was to coax him to !
give him that knife as a keepsake. On the ;
evening of the fatal day, the miscreant prepar
ed the bleach-rreen, the theatre of this rnelan- i
choly tragedy, tor his performance’ lie 1072 ,
the linen from the pegs in some places, he cut ■
it across in others ; he turned it up in heaps, he ;
tied it up in bundles, as if ready to be removed, |
and placed the favorite knife, the keepsuke, |
in one of the cuts he had himself made. I
Matters being thus prepared, he invited the
devoted youth to supper, and as the nights
were dark, he told him to bring the lanthern to
light him home. At supper, or after, he art
fully turned the conversation upon the favorite
knife, which he eff cted with great concern to
miss and pretended that the last recollection he
had of it was using it in a particular spot of the
bleach-green, described that spot to the obli
ging boy, and begged him to see if it was
there. He lit the lanthern which he had been
desired to bring with him to light him home,
ami with alacrity proceeded upon his fatal er
rand.
As soon ns the monster saw his victim was
completely in a snare, he gave the alarm, and
tho melancholy crime described was ihe re
suit,
Could there have been possibly a stronger
case of circumstantial evidence than this ?
I’he young man seemed actually caught in the
fact. T’here was the knife with his name on
it; (he linen cut, tied up in bundles, and the
lanthern acknowledged by his father.
The time, past midnight. The master him
self present, a man ofthe fairest clWfracter, the
servant, of unblemished reputation.
A RECEIPT FOR BREWING A TRA
GEDY.
“Guns, trumpets, blunderbusses, drums, and thunder.”
Pon.
Find a rascal (no difficult thing in this pro
lific age) give him a blood-stained dagger, and
a tolerable head-piece, and throw him into a
company i f a discreet young gentleman, who
admires his romantic qualities.—Hatch a
good sized iniquity, and spin a page or so of
sentiment to salve it over. Pick out an ac
cominoil itmg friend, who will second the
villatiies of the hero from a principle of the
purest affection. Introduce him on the stage,
Vol. V--Ao. 355«
with his eyes raised to heaven, and hia hand,
in his breeches pocket, intiinuiing, tlH.Teby bis
scorn fur pecuniary sacrifices. Gefl a pair of
scab s, and weigh your principal interview in
.them, viz: between friend and friend and his
mistress. Let them balance well, aid
.ihoiten whichever weighs heaviest in tbs
scale. The first three act, may be taken up
in rigmarole speeches, spiced morality, and
sentiment cut and dried for the occasion ; but
in act the fifth let the scene boa prison, no
matter where—time, no matter what, with the
moo flight piering through be dungeon grate.
N. B. Nothing can be done without a
moon, notwithstanding the statute against
lunacy.
To proceed : let the hero ho shown pacing
with a tragical puce across the paved floor of
Ims prison ; but, for heaven’s sake, do not for.
get to let the chains clank now and then, or the
audience will not ui deistai.d the plot. — I hen
let a sneer at orthodox sentiment geutly curve
his nose, and his spirit pour forth a decent
modicum of sigfis. But, hark? the clock
sounds twelve.
N. B. Let it be a very sulky clock, and it
wili afford food for mental apostrophe.
Dungeon door op'Uis on its rusty hinges (the
hinges must always ba rusty,) mid the mistress
of the hero turns in to him like Mr. Coleridge’s
Christabelle, “with three paces and a stride.”
Let herby all means faint in bis arms, audit
will save a great deal of valuable conversation,
which may be transferred to your next farce.
Let her gradually recover, and acquaint the
audience (at least al! those who are awake)
that she has come to die with h r lover. Dun
Manuel Griflgruffiuo. Let them both have a
snug touch at the moon. “O thou sweet moon!”
or at each other— ‘ O thou sweet
When they have finished, it would by advisable
that the clock should strike, with all due deco,
rum, and the turnkey enter with the keys. La
dy scrcams-gentlema swears,
hinges creuk, and the orchestra strikes up a
chorus. Let the next scene change to a
gallows—gong bells sound—muffled drums
roll. E.itor Jack Ketch with a song: this
will have an electrical effect. Let the hero
move majestically through the throng, followed
by his mistress, with dishevelled hair or a
wig, whichever is most convenient. Ano’her
pathetic farewell. Hero stations himself on
the sci fluid—lady shrieks—Jaclc Ketch
approaches with The night eap. The don
nobly repels the insult, tips the executioner a
black eye, and then, with true dramatic dis
interestedness, leaves him his breeches as a
legacy. Exeunt omnes. Curtain drops, and
Don Manuel Griffgruffiuo comes like a resur.
rec’ion-man to announce the repetition of the
piece.
These are the requisitions of a true tragedy
maker ; and by a strict adhera.ice to these regu.
latious, with a dignified contempt for all sense,
nature, and precedent, immortality, or, what is
synonymous with it, a few hundred guineas,
will be obtained; and the author will takeout
a patent for a monster, and be shown as such
at the west end of the town, untill Ramnb
Samee, or the musical clubs, rival him in gou
’ ius and celebrity.
From Anecdotes of Duelling, published, re.
cently in England.— Two backwoodsmen, iu
the vicinity of the Tittibi-Wasse, in Michigan,
were hunting in the woods, and found a cow
that doubtless had strayed from some unfor
tunate settler. The rival claims to the beast
produced a quarrel, and the friends of the par
ties worked it up to a preity big chuck of a
fight. They had no weapons but the nfle and
the hunting-knife—but to make the affair per-
Cecily honorable, it was agreed that the com.
1 batauts should be placed over night in a cou-
I pie of newly built log houses oructcd 'within
| half range of each other. Plenty of uininuni
) tion was to be supplied, but the tiriug was not
>to commence before sunrise audio cease after
’ sundown. The rival cow-claimers were at
i liberty to storm each other’s hut, or to remain
'ensconced behind the openings, for the mu 1
; had not been applied to the crevicss, but all
animosity was to c< ase with the daylight; if
either of them received a wound, the other
was to be considered the belter man, and to
piave the undoubted ownership of the cow.
I if neither were hurt, the animal was to be sold,
i and the proceeds divided between the com
batants,- deducting the expeses of a grnernl
treat. The winner of the toss for first choica
! of shanties selected the taiilJing in tho north.
| eastern corner of the 101, leaving the autago.
• nisttofix himself in the other, which occuj>i<>d
I the* south-western. His friends rated him
soundly for the apparent silliness of his choice,
aud declared that he would have the sun iu his
1 eyes for the longest part of ihe day. The
: backwoodsmen took their place; our friend of
' tho first choice bnnicuded the door of his hut.
and throwing himself on the floor, slept sound-
Ily through ti.e night. At day-break his an
tagnnist began to blaze away nt every likely
crack er available chink, but was not f-ivor>:j
with a shot in return. He was afriid to ven
ture on storming his enemy’s entrenchment,
lest he should be pick ■<! off when out of shel.
ter. 4’tie sun was rapidly descending in th.»
I wtwteru sky, when the baokwomlhman, who
! had hitherto been siled, cautiously raised his
■ hi ad from the protection cf the bottom log, nnd
made an obsi nation. As he had cunringlv
anticipated, the sun um completely behind
| his antagonist’s hut and shining thmrtph the
I crevices of both the walls, developed the inte
' rior to his gaze. Ho saw the shadow of his
rival’s body iu the western side of the but—tho
tirst shot took effect—and ho won the victory
and tho cow,
THE HORSE.
! In my opinion, the horse is the most noble
: of all animals, and, I am sorry tossy, the most
I ill used at least m England, for I do not recol
[ lect a single instance of having seen a horse ill
treated on the continent. In fact, you hardly
cvei see a horse on the continent that is ootia
good working condition ; you never meet tho
miserable, lame, Wind, and worn-out animals
that you do in England, which stumblealo g
with their loads behind them til) they stumble
into their graves Ifjs.iy one would take tho
trouble to make friends with their horses, he
would be astonished at tho intelligence and
affi ctioa of this noble animal ; but wc leave
him to our grooms, who prefer to use force to
kindness. At the s ime time, I have observed,
even in colts, verv d'ff rent dispositions, some
are much more fond and good-tempered than
others : but let them be what they will as colts,
they are soon spoiled by the cruelty and want
ot judgment of those who have charge of them
in she stable.
4'he sympathy between 'ths Arab and his
horse is w. h known. The horse will li« down
in the tent, ai d the children hsve no (car of
receiving a kick; on ,tbq contrary.they m’t
iipo.l hint a-.d witli him. S i h ijs the L-east