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JW. JONES, is now receiving and open-
. ing at his Store, his supplies of
FALL <SL WZKTEB GOODS,
which combind with his former Stock, render
his assortment very complete.
English Straw Bonnets.
A case ofhandsotne English Straw and Florence
Bonnets, iust received and for sale, by
J. W. JONES.
Oct. 14,-24—tf
NEGRO SHOES,
200 pairs Superior Negro Shoes for sale by
J. \V. JONES.
Oct. 14,—24—tf
LIVEBY STABLE.
, j "•.A- ? i
Mi
THE Undersigned has just opened a LIVE
RY STABLE in the Town of Athens,
iinmediatelyintherearofMr.il. A. Fraser’s
Store, where he will keep on hand
VEHICLES OF
JEfJEJRI’ UJESCIJJJ’TZO.V;
ALSO
©©©©Z ID 2 ®
iglga 1
And Well broke <
HARNESS HORSES
To Hire.
Persons wishing to travel, can be accommo
dated with Carriages and Horses at all times
His Vehicles have notyet arrived, but are ex-1
pected by the first of the Spring. He will also 1
take on Livery the horses of any one wishing to
place their horses under his charge.
P. M. WELLS.
Jan. 27 39 ts.
'jp'OUß months after date, application will be
-* made to the Inferior Court of Clark county,
When sitting for ordinary purposes, for leave
to sell the real Estate of John A. Strickland,
<,eCeaSe MILLINGTON SCOGGINS, Adm’r.
Feb. 10,—11—4m
GEORGIA, MADISON COUNTY.
WAT - HERE AS, Elisha Ware, applies for Let
® » ters of Administration on the Estate of
Edward Ware, jun., of said County deceased.
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
granted.
Given under my hand, this Bth day of Janu
ary, 1838.
WILLI IM SANDERS, c. c. o.
Feb. 10, —41—Im
GEORGIA, HALL COUNTY.
HEREAS, Ambrose Kennedy, Adminis-
V W trator of the Estate ofEdward Harrison,
deceased, applies to 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 uot be grant
ed.
Given under my hand, this 20th day of Octo
ber. 1837.
E. M. JOHNSON, c. c. 0.
Oct. 21, —25—6 m
Southern Chig.
MitwUaiWGWK.
To MUSIC.
BY AT.ABIC A. WATTS.
Mysterious keeper of the key
That opes the gates of Memory !
Oft in thy wildest, simplest strain,
We live o’er-years of bliss again.
The exile listens to the song
Once heard his native bowers among;
And straight way in his visions rise,
Hope’s sunny fields, and cloudless skies.
Enchantress sweet of smiles and tears,
Spell of the dream of vanished years ;
Mysterious keeper of the key
That opes the gates of Memory.
’Tis thine to bid sad hearts be gay,
Yet chase the smiles of mirth away ;
Joy’s sparkling eye in tears to s'ecp,
Yet make the mourner cease to weep!
To gloom or sadness thou canst suit
The chords es thy delicious lute ;
For every heart thou hast a tone,
Rendering its sadness all thine own !
WOMAN’S LOVE.
“Oh what is love made for, if ’ tis not the same.
Through joy and through sorrow, through glory and
shante ;
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart,
I but know that I love thee what ever thou art,”
Every one must recollect the thrilling arid
painful il'ustrations of the above sentiment,
furnished by the tragical story of Emmet the
Irish patriot; and which has been so thrilling
ly depicted by Irving in his story of the “Bro
ken Heart.” Nor does that stand as a solita
ry instance in the history of woman’s affec
tions. The every day experience of the ob
server of human nature, will teach him, that
there is fortitude and elasticity in the love of
even the most retiring and timid female, that
defies misfortune and disgrace, and only burns
with a purer higher ray the more darkly the
cloud gathers around its object. It is not amid
the sunshine of prosperity vv hen the world
smiles brightly upon us, that we can properly
appreciate the unyielding tenacity of woman’s
love. But go to the dark nnd miserable hovel
in which misfortune has reduced some one of
its thousand victims; ask its wretched immate
who he has saved most valuable from the
wreck of his once princely fortune, and ten to
one he will point to his wife, the pride of his
prosperity, and the solace of his affliction.
And if indeed his heart is capable of appre
ciating the worlh of such a treasure, what to
man are all other losses or reverses so long as
she remains unchanged ? They pass by him
as the waves of the sea ; which may tos=> the
frail barque which they bare onward to its
destination, but which can never effect the
equanimity of its course, or disturb the serenity
of its inmates.
But to our story. Ellen Monroe was the
only daughter of a wealthy Southern planter,
who had spared no pains or expense in hei
education. Possessed of no common share of
personal beauty, and sole heir of the large es
tates ot her father, her hand was sought by a
numerous crowd of admirers. Left to her un
biassed choice by the kind indulgence of a
doating parent, she by the offers of the wealthy
and distinguished suitors by whom she was
surrounded, selected from among the com
panions of her infancy, one whose only re
commendations were an unblemished charac
ter, ai d a find of the first order.
Francis Raymond had been her play fellow
in infancy, and her constant companion in the
more advanced stages of childhood. As she
sprung to womanhood and he found her con
stantly surrounded by the proud and wealthy
of the land, he first discovered how deeply bis
heart was enthralled, and his own proud spirit
dictated to him the necessity of withdrawing
from the vicinity »f so dangerous an influence.
True love is very timid; and when Raymond
contrasted his own situation, dependeat upon
a precarious profession for support, with that
of those with whom he must enter the list as
a rival, hope died within his heart, if indeed it
had ever existed there.
The struggle was long nnd bitter in his
breast, but pride triumphed ? he could not leave
her so long as memory might be permitted to
cherish her image, as one not loved in vain,
he could live upon the memory of the past, but
to listen to a cold and chilling refusal from her
lips, to have the fondly cherished chimeras of
his boyhood dashed to the ground forever by
a word from her, there was madness in the
thought, though he lacked the fortitude to
brave it.
He determined to flee the scenes of his in
fancy forever, and to seek refuge in the wilds
of Texas, from the maddening memories which
every bush and every tree aroui.id him recall
ed but too forcibly to mind.
A painful task remained to be performed,
common courtesy demanded that he should uot
depart without bidding her farewell ; pride too
I whispered that it would r>e too plainly exibi.
ting his weakness to shrink from the parting
interview. He nerved himself for the task and
the evening proceeding that wbichhe fixed for
his departure, he called with the intention of
biding her a hasty adieu. Contrary to expec
tation, he found her alone. The cold austerity ,
of manner which he determined to assume,
faded before the kind reception which he met
with and seating himself beside he* - , he lor a
time forgot the object of his visit.
“ I am glad to find you alone, this evening,’’
said he, at length, is she laid aside the guitar
with which she had been accompanying her
voice in 01 o of his favorite songs.
“ That is a pleasure I should have enjoyed
very often of late Frank, if I had have depen
ded on you for company.” replied Ellen.
“ These long intervals between your visits are
unkind ; surely I have not been so unfortunate
as to offend you.”
“ No Ellen.” replied he, “ but from what I
witnessed during the last three or four visits
which I have made, I should suppose you
were uot likely Io suffer ennui from want of
company.”
There was something of reproach in the
half playful tone in which he uttered these
words. She was not slow to perceive it.
“ Frank,” she replied after looking at him
for a moment in silences “ when Ellen Mun
roe forgets her old friends, it will be time to
reproach her With treating her new ones with
the courtesy to which they are entitled. I
had not expected this from you.”
“ I meant not so Ellen,” he hastily rcmar.
ked, “ I t idy intended—but. no matter I have
no reproaches to make, and if I had they would
ibe but ill suited to a farewell interview. I
| have come to bid you adieu !—and forever.”
“WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” Jefferson.
“ Frank, surely you jest.” returned she
“what means this ? you are angry ; and at
me—we must not part thus.”
“ I am not angry Ellen.” he replied—his
assumed firmness last deserting him—“ I have
■ no cause for anger, not even the slightest, and
believe me, Ellen, it would be no light cause
that could excite an angry feeling in my breast
toward you—but we part to-night most pro
bably forever—to-morrow I depart for Tex
as.”
She spoke not, yet her look was more elo
quent than words could possibly have been.
He could not misunderstand it—it told him
that the ties which the long and sunny years
of infancy had entwined around them, were
not unsevered, that with her as with him the
heart was unchanged. His vows, his pride,
his fears, all were forgotten as he poured forth
the wild tale of bis love. That night he re
turned home the accepted suitor of Ellen Mun
roe.
Though her father might not entirely have
approved of her choice, he loved her too fond
ly to thwart her inclination in a matter so mo
mentous to her future happiness, and his con
sent was freely given to their union. It was
then late in the fall, a day was fixed early in
the spring for their nuptials. But his day of
dreams of felicity were destined to be brief—
one month from the period of the interview re.
1 lated, saw him incarcerated in a dungeon, up
on a charge of that most henious and fearful -
crime, wilful and deliberate murder! The
evidence against him was wholly circumstan
tial, but at the same time so conclusive of its
nature as almost to preclude the possibility ot
his innocence.
The circumstances were these : a quarrel
had taken place between himself and Captain
Henderson of the army, one of the rejected
suitors of Ellen. The quarrel had been doubt
less sought by the soldier in a moment of pi
que on first learning the success of his rival.
A challenge passed, was accepted and a day
assigned for the meeting. The evening pre
ceding the appointed day, Henderson was
found murdered by the road side ; at a short
distance from him was discovered concealed
among the leaves a dirk known by many to be
the propertv of Raymond; and which had been
seen iu his possession on the morning of the
murder.
Raymond, was also seen coming from the
woods in which the body was found, a few
hours before its discovery. An examination
of the wounds of the murdered man, discover
ed the fact that he had been attacked from be
hind; and showed beyond a doubt that Ray
mond’s dirk was the weapon with which they
were inflicted. Another circumstances which
had no small weight with many, was the fact
of his making no preparations for the approach
ing duel by ‘practising’ as it is technically
termed among duellists. Opposed to this cVoi
whelming mass of circumstantial evidence he
had nothing to offer, but the clearest testimony
of an unblemished character from his earliest
infancy up to the moment of his incarcera
tion.
There was but one opinion as to his guilt:
all concurred in denouncing him as a cold
blooded and co wardiv assassin.
“ Whither are you going Ellen 1” said
Judge Munroe to his daughter, as she passed I
him in the hall, of the afternoon of the day j
succeeding the murder : “ Wherefore have t
you yonrbonnet and cloak? Surely you are
not going out in this rain ?”
“ I am going to see him father,” she rnp'i
ed in a voice husky with emotion, but breath
ing determined resolution in every tone.
“ My daughter dearest child, you must not
think of him m >re,” exclninv d the old man
bursting into tears and throwing his arms a
round her neck—it was the first lime he had
seen her since the fatal discovery.
“ Father.” exclaimed the maiden in. the
same subdued but resolute tone tn which she
had first spoken, and facing him with her arms
folded on her breast. “ 1 cannot, I dare not
obey you, I must, 1 will see him.”
“ My child, my beloved one.” exclaimed
the old man frantically,” know what you i
do—he is a murderer, a cold blooded coward- 1
ly—!
“ Father, father,” screamed the maiden, j
“ pause 1 beseech you —I know all—every I
thing. I have heard his guilt proclaimed
from a hundred mouths, and every anathema
that the vile herd have heaped upon his head,
has but rendered him dearer to this heart.
Father until now I never knew how much I
loved him.”
“Do you then believe him innocent?” ask
ed the old man, iu a voice vainly struggling
for calmness.”
“ Believe it I —‘father I know it, I would
swear it.”
“Yet Ellen, dearest Ellen,” said the fa
ther imploringly. “ every body believes him
guilty and ?”
I “ The greatest reason why I should not
j’desert him,” said Ellen proudly. *• No fa
ther if the proof of his guilt were written in
I letters of fire upon my heart, I would cling to
him still. Father fear not that your daughter
will do aught for which you will ever blush ;
but oppose me not I beseech jou, if you would
not drive me mad, I must I will see him—he
shall know that there is it least one heart that
believes him innocent despite of circumstances;
and which would cherish him still if assured
of his guilt.”
The father buried his face in his hands,
and sunk upon a chair ; (he daughter left the
house accompanied only by her black servant,
and in a few moments was in the presence of
him for whom she thus fearlessly braved the
scorn and censure of the world.
The interview was brief—an age of tho’t
and feeling Were crowded into the space of a
few moments. Raymond insisted and finally
obtained from her a promise that she would
not see him again until the trial should be over.
She left the prison with full faith of his inno
cence, and in the solitary cell to which he was
consigned, he had the satisfaction of knowing
that there was at least one heart satisfied ol’j
of his innocence, and that heart the one of all |
others tn the memory of which he would wish
to have an unblemished name.
At length the day of trial arrived—the court
was crowded to excess, for the excitement
had been unprecedented. The celebrated
Colonel II- was engaged for the defence,
| and at an early hour the sheriff proceeded to
I impannel the jury.
i I’lie first witness called to the stand testtifi.
| ed to the facts of a challenge having passed
j between Raymond and the deceased, and the
I arrangements that hud been made tor a hos
' tile meeting.
The second testified to 'he finding of the
! body and to his meeting with Raymond retnr-
I ning from the Woods some holifs before the
I discovery.
I This portion of the testimony was however
ATHEY’S, GEORGIA, SATORDAI, MAKCSI 24, fl 838.
of but little weight, as it Was proved that the
body was warm and bleeding, when found, and
could not have been dead more than half an
hour.
Tho next witness tvas Dr. Stevens, the
Surgeon who examined the body. He testi
fied to the fact of having been with Raymond
in his office in the morning, and seen in his
possession a dii k of peculiar construction, that
this same dirk was found concealed near the
murdered man’s corpse with about one inch of
the point broken off which point was joundin
one of the wounds ; the dirk was here produ
ced and identified by the witness, the point
which had been taken from the wound cor
responded exactly with the other part.
When the dirk was produced, the prisoner
looked at it for a moment, and then starting
from his seat, while a flush over-spread his
pale featurers, leaned over the bar, and whis
pered for a moment in his counsel’s ear.
“ You say you know this dirk to be one that
Dr. Raymond had in his possession on the
morning of the murder,” said Col. H. after a
moment’s study, “did you take it into your
hands while you were in Mr. Raymond’s
office?” j
“ I did, and examined it attentively.” was i
the immediate reply, “ I don’t think I can be
mistaken.”
“ Did you make any remarks relative to
carrying a weapon of this kind in your hat,
and if so, what was it ?”
“ I remarked that it was oftentimes more
convenient to carry a small dirk in that way,
than in the breast, and placed the prisoner’s i
dirkin my hat to show him the wav, which I
meant.”
“ flow did it Correspond with the length of
your hat ?”
“ It was abcut half an inch shorter than the
crown
“ Is that the hat you had on your head?
“ It is,”
“ Will you have the goodness to see how
this weapon which you have identified ns the
prisoner’s corresponds with that measure
ment.”
“ The witness did as he was desired, when
to his utter astonishment, and that of the crow,
ded audience by which the court was thron
ged, it proved one inch longer than the hat.”
A suffocating murnur of half suppressed
emotion, rang through the court.
“ There is some awful mistake here,” said
the witness, “ gentlemen of the jury, I have
“Stop sir,’’ exclaimed the now deeply exci
ted counsel, rising from bis seat wtih his
countenance flushed to the brow, “ I wish you
to tell the jury what Mr. Raymond did with
the dirk alter you took it out of your bat and
returned it to him.”
“ I recollect distinctly” replied the witness,
“ he laid it between the leaves of a large Bible
which lay upon lie lower shelf of his book
case.”
“ Sheriff’, the look, the book.” exclaimed
the counsel, “ and on v our life open it not till
it’s produced in court.”
I he Sheriff left the court, and in a few mi
nutes returned, tearing with him a large bible
which was identified by the witness on the
stand, as the one in which he had seen Ray
mond deposile the dirk.
Ttie Sheriff vvrs next sworn, and testified
that, he had kept lie key of Raymond’s office
from the first houi ot his arrest, and that no
one but tumself hal ever access to it, and that
he had found lite bible in tho very situation
described by the Lst witness.
“ Now, gontlemjii of the jury,” said Col.
11. rising, “It ranaii.s to consummate the
proof of my client! innocence—for mvself, I
have not the slighest doubt that the weapon
which belongs to the prisoner, is where he
placed it previous to this unfortunate occur
rence. Gentlemen examine for yourselves,”
and be handed the book to the foreman. As
the latter raised itupon the desk before him,
a dirk dropped fran between the leaves—the .
very counterpart if the one which had beet: '
sworn to as belotqitig to the prisoner in every
other respect but feugth. It was placed in the
hat and corrcsportled exactly with the descrip
tion given by Dr. 'teavens. A wild and
thrilling shout arose from the assembled mul
titude, and above which might bw heard shrill
notes of a female voice. It proceeded from
Ellen Munroe, who was the next moment j
clasped in the arms of her now freed lover—he
had been acquitted by acclamation, and with
out the ceremony e>f a vote among the jurors.
A mouth after the termination ofthe trial, a
deserter when ebout to suffer for his crime,
confessed that out of revenge for seme fancied
indignity, which he had once experienced at
the hand of Capl. Henderson he bad committed
the murder for which Raymond had been so
nearly convictec.
At the day appiented Ellen and Raymond
were united, bit he could not forgive the
friends who had so easily deserted him, and
in a few weeks accompanied by his lovely
bride, he departed forTexas, m here those who
have been conversant with the recent struggle
of that infant republic, have recently met with
his true name; that of Raymond being a fic
titious one under which I have chosen to de
signate him in the sketch.
From the Gentleman’s ?>fagazinc—Edited by William
E. Burton, Esq.
NATURAL HISTORY OF TEXAS.
We have bwen surprised, whilo conversing
about tho afiairiLjyf Texas, to find that few
persons, even among the best informed, enter
tained a correct knowledge of the properties
of this interesting Country, or were more than
partially acquainted with the particulars of its
natural or political history ; and yet, from its
contiguity to ths United States bf zlmerica,
Texas has received a larger share of attention
than any other province ofthe Mexican Repub
lic. The great change that liaS lately taken
place in its political institutions, and the im
mense tide of emigration that is daily flowing
from every part of the Union to the banks of
the Brazos, the Sabine, and the Colot ado, has
given the Americans an interest in the pros
perin' of the Texitins, and created an anxiety
to be familiar vith every illustrative particu
lar. We have, therefore, collected from a
variety of sources, a body ot facts descriptive
ofthe natural history of Texas, and Leg to
assure the reader that the strictest reliance
mnv be placed upon their authenticity.
The extreme length of Texas is from one
thousand to twelve hundred hiiles, and its ave
rage breadth three hundred and fifty miles;
it is. therefore, a country about a third, or
perhsps a half, larger than the island of Great
Britain. Its extent of sea coast along the
north or northh’est shore ofthe Gulf, is about
thre hundred miles. One ofthe most striking
features of its character is the number of rivers,
great and small, which flow through it into the
Gulf, and afford the means of extensive inland
traffic by water. The principal rivers are the
Brazos, Colorado, Trinidad, Gaudulupe, Sa
! bine, San Antonio, Rio de las Nueces, and
i Naches. The name of the Brazos (in the
I Spanish language, El Brazos de Dios—the
arm of God,) is figuratively significant oi its
1 character; it being placid and beneficent in
repose—mighty and terrible in wrath. It af
fords the means of steamboat navigation for
some hundreds of miles into the upper part of
the province. As in the case of most ot the
other rivers, the Brazos empties itself into a
large salt lake, or inlet ot the sea, around
i which, to a vast extent, the land is charged
| with mineral salt, which may be gathered in
abundasce during the dry seasons. The river
Trinidad, lying est from the Brazos, falls into
a large salt-water lake or bay. called Galves
' ton Buy,, by which a good deal of commerce
has hitherto been carried on with the upper
country. The Nueces river bounds Texas 01:
the west, separating it from the province of
Coahuila. In Texas, the number of what are
j called second and third rate rivers is conside
I ruble, and among these we find the San Jacinta,
! which is navigable for thirty-five miles from
| Galveston Bay—the Navidad, a hundred miles
in length, and also navigable for a part of its
course—Buffalo Buyou, and some others of
lesser importance.
A single glance at the map is sufficient to
show the great advantages which Texas de
rives from its rivers and its local position. In
an inland direction, its commerce may be ex
[ tended many hundreds of miles, into the Uni
ted States on the one side, and the Mexican
States on the other. The intercourse along
the shores of the Gulf ,s easy and safe. A
day or two’s sail will take yon to the mouth of
the Mississippi, and thence you may penetrate
by water as far as Canada. At an additional
day or two’s sail from the Gulf, you have Vera
Cruz. Havana, and other West India markets.
Nature would thus appear to have been prodi
gai in her favors to this finely situated territory,
which may one day be the centre of a prodi
gious internal and external commerce.
AH descriptions of the country coincide in <
stating its lower regions to be little elsethan a
series of extensive flat plains or prairies, spread
out as far as the eye can reach, and here and
there Interspersed with what is called a rolling
country. The greater proportion ot' the land
forms an immense inclined plane, the apex of
which is the high land south of the Red River, j
From this summit, which is by no means high. I
the inclination is towards he southeast, a ,d
surprisingly uniform. The surface is beauti
fully undulating to within abcut sixty or seven
ty miles of the coast, where it becomes level.
The whole tract is, without exception, free
from marsh or lakes, even down to the inlets
which skirt the coast. A geologist, on look
ing at the country, and examining its soil,
would at once pronounce the level region to
be alluvial; a mere collection of particles of '
earth washed down by the rivers from the
great central districts of North America.
The appearance ofthe prairie lands is thus
described by the author of the Visit to Texas :
—“I was very much struck with the unifor
mity of the surface in the prairie, which I had
often heard of so particularly, but never ob
served before. I had now run a mil; or more
over it, without meeting a single irregularity
or obstacle, a stone, a pebble, a bush, or even
a shrub. Scarcely a blade of grass seemed
to rise above six inches in height. And thus
this extensive plain, neglected by man, and
tended only by the hand of nature, presented
a surface as level as the most carefully rolled
garden walk, and was covered with a coat of
green asunifoimas a smooth shaven lawn, or
a vast sheet of velvet. And this scene was
not confined to a small vale or meadow, or
bounded by a range of neighboring hills, but
stretched off to a vast distance on almost evert 1
side, on the one hand seeming to melt into the
Gulf of Mexico, and on the o’herto meet the
horizon. There was nothing elevated or rough,
or wild, to contrast with the. flat surface of
green; and after a few moments spent in con
templating the plain, fl idiug it varied o dy by
the distant groves which were seen towards
the nuith, tlr? mind feels a kind of surprise at
finding that the senses are almost useless
where there is so little to give them exercise.
Such were some of my Debugs at the first
sight ofa praiiie.” The same writer, in tra
velling near Galveston, remarks: “We had
afterwards to pass over another beautiful prai
rie region, where our eyes were refreshed
with the luxuriant scene presented on every
side. The grass was nearly up to the horses’
knees, and so thick and green, that it entirely
concealed every trace of the black surface
formed by the burning ofthe dry plants a few
weeks preceding, and which was in some
spots discernible when we passed this way
before. In some places I observed patches
covered with sensitive pla-is, and in others
flowers were blooming iu great variety; while
we were usually the only living objects to be
seen. We saw occasionally th" fine catlie
belonging to rhe farms, ranging over their ex
tensive estates; but tn the wide intervals be
tween them, we seldom found any thing but
the birds possessed «t animal life. The cattle
had already begun to show the effects of their
improved pasturage, and were remarkable fat,
sleek, and vigorous, ranging totally unrestrain
ed over regions immensely disproportioned
even to their great numbers, and grazing to
their hearts’ content on herbage which grew
tenfold fuoicr than they could consume it.—
With my pocket compass to direct us, we now
set off across the prairies, proceeding some
what carelessly over the verdant and boundless
lawn that spread before us, in some places,
apparently to the horizon. What acres, what
miles, what leagues square of the most fertile
land were now in sight, without a human in.
habitant! And hotv easy would it be for a
stranger to become bewildered in travellinw
over them ! There was not a road to be trac
ed, not even the siigh:-st appearance ofa path,
or of a single footstep. If anv passenger had
taken that course before this season, the rank
herbag : had entirely obliterated every evi.
deuce of it. Au unbroken surface of grass,
intermingled here and there with beautiful
flowers, extended on every side of us to a
great distance; in some places bounded by a
distant grove or range of trees, and in others
stretched far between points and islands ot
woodland, till lost rn the thick esss ofthe air.
These, however, were often shut out from the
view by the thickness of the vapor, and there
was nothing to vary the scene, more than is
found in the midst of the ocean.
I had never been at all prepared for the in
describable beauty of a Texan prairie at this
season of the year, which 1 (O w could not
avoid admiring, even under such unpleasant
circums’anccs. The wld flowers hud greath
multiplied, so that they were often spread
around us in the utmost profusion, and in won-
tiderfu! variety. Some of those which are
; most cultivated in our northern gardens, were
here in full bloom and perfection, intermingled
! with many which I had never before seen, of
. different forms and colors. 1 should despair
of giving my reader any adequate idea of
i the scenes which were thus so richly adorned,
, and through which we often passed for acres
in extent, breaking for Ourselves the only path
perceptible on the whole prairie. Among the
’ flowers were the largest and most delicate I
had ever seen, with others the most gaudy.
Among them were conspicuous different spe
cies about six inches in diameter, presenting
concentric zones of the brightest yellow, red,
and blue, tn strong contrasts. In more than
one instance, these fields of flowers were not
only so gay and luxuriant as to seem like a
vast garden richly stocked with the finest plants,
and abandoned to a congenial soil, but exten
sive almost beyond limitation ; for it was some
times difficult to discover whether they stop-
1 ped short of the horizon. It was singular also
that patches were here and there overspread
by mimosas, which, as our horses passed thro’
them, drew up their leaves and dropped their
branches whenever they were brushed by their
feet; thus making a withered trace on the sur.
face, which was but gradually obliterated as
these timid plants regained their courage,
raised their stems again and expanded their
withered leaves. The plants whose sensitive
ness had thus been overcome, were rendered I
distinguishable to the eye from others, by the |
exposure they made of the lower side of their j
leaves when they folded them up, that side
being of a much lighter hue than the upper.
There was a phenomenon connected with this
striking appearance, which I was at the time
unable te account for, and could hardly credit;
that was. the shrinking ofthe delicate plants a
little in advance of us, before we had quite
reached them. A friend who had witnessed
the same thing, accounted for it By supposing
that they received a shock through the long
horizontal roots which connect them together.
Through these vast and splendid regions
I coursed occasionally a few deer. VVesaw
1 several herds of six or eight through the day,
and some much larger. Most of them were
accompanied by fawns, smooth, red, and beau
tif’ully spotted, as innocent and frisky as young
lambs, and like them keeping close to their
darns wherever they went. VVe found in this
1 case, as in others, that we might sometimes
approach pretty near to them when we came
against the wind, but they would scent us a
considerable distance to the leeward, and .
bound far away. VVe also saw several small >
droves of wild mustangs as we travelled on,
which betrayed greater interest or curiosity
towards ns. They would start off at their
slow gallop with their long manes and tails
flying, while their thick fetlocks and foretops
gave them a wild u >tutored aspect; and sweep
ing off in a semi-circle, to the right or left,
scour over half a mile or a mile of the prairie,
and then stop to survey us until vve again ap
proached them. After repeating this inarceu
vre several times they generally changed their
course and disappeared. These little horses,
1 hough not ill-formed, are destitute of the pe
culiar beauty and elegance which are attribu
ted to a cert.ii 1 wild species of a larger size.
They are also not very swift, but yet are verv
valuable to the inhabitants, and will doubtless
long [ rove so.
Tlieen rvgtu'lS obM-ncfe to the
traveller in any direction, except, where they
are crossed by streams ; their soil is also gen
erally rich, and often of almost incalculable
fertility. No forests are to be cleared away ;
and yet, in many places, there is sufficient
Wood for the limited necessities created by the
climate. How many attractions does this
splendid country present at first sight to offer
to a settler from our cold and Northern States!
jNo rocky andjb irren ledges to lie waste for
ever, no steep acclivities to be tilled or to be
climedover; no provision to be made for the
housing of Cattle ; no raising, cutting, curing,
removing, stowing, or feeding out of winter
fodder; ..ot even the construction of hav-stacks.
much less the erection of barns or stables for
crops and stock. How difficult it is to a
Northerner to bear in mind the reality, that all
these great features of soil, climate, and rural
life iu bis own country, are here to be dis
pensed with! He naturally inquires, “ What
then can remain for the industrious than to
do ?” The whole business of raising cattle
is of course reduced, as it was in the laud of
Canaan, to the simple operation of letting them
take care of themselves, eat, drink, and fatten
on the rich pastures, and under the genial cli
mate, until the owner chooses to claim tribute
of their flesh, hide, and horns.
The rolling lands of Texas are described
as not less beautiful than the level prairies,
with their flowers and islands, or groups of
trees The author ofthe History of Texas,
D. B. Edward, rises into enthusiasm in des
cribing his sensations on first beholding the
undulating plains between the Red River, (a
boundary with the United Stateson theNoith,)
and the Trinidad. “ Now, reader,your rela
ter is lost for words to describe the landscape
after crossing the river Trinidad ; as no lan
guage can convey to the mind any thing ade
quate to the emotions felt by the visiter in
ascending this vast, irregularly regular slope
oi immense undulated plains, which expand
before the eve in graceful rolls, affording front
the summits of their gentle swells a boundless
prospect wf verdure—blending in the distance
to the utmost extent of vision, with the blue of
the horizon. Few spectacles surpass it in
Beauty and magtificence.—Thu boundless ex
panse and profound repose of these immense
plains, excite emotions of sublimity akin to
those which arise from a contemplation ofthe
ocean, in its display of undulatory movements
Yes ; a more grand and stupendous silence
even broods over these regions, where ofttn
neither sound nor sight, foreign to the scene,
distuibs the Contemplation of the passing trav
eller.
These rolling prairies are generally divided
by a broad, declivous valej through which
meanders in swe> ping curves one of those
brooks, creeks or branches, which enter the
Trinidad, or Brasses or Colorado; on which,
as they approach these rivers, there is more or
less <>f timber, relieving the eye, in unison with
those fine airy groves of every shape, with
which the prairie mounds are studded.—These
rows of timber and picturesque groves are cal
led islands, from the striking resemblance
they present to small tracts of land surrounded
bv water Nothing can be more natural than
Ihe comparison, as the prairies often assume
the appearance ofa hike, both in surface and
color; and in the remoter parts, the hue melts
into that of distant water. And it requires no
very great effort ofthe imagination, especially
in certain states of the weather, and changes
ofthe light, to fancy that such is the reality of
the secne. Yes • so much has nature cori-
Vol. V--Ao. 47.
tributed to the illusory appearance of these
groves, that they often preseet all the beauty
of art’; for the trees are of nearly equal size,
and grow near together, without underwood,
and present outlines perfectly well defined, and
often surprisingly regular, some appearing to
form exact circles or ovals, while others are
nearly square or oblong, with scarcely a sin
gle tree projecting beyond ; so that it is found
difficult to divest one’s self of the impression
that much ofthe land had buen lately cleared,
and these were the remains of the forest. Ta
kii g this ii tercsting purl of the provinca in al!
its bearings. I doubt whether another can be
found like it <>n the Continent—from its one
I mile encircled prairie, to those of twenty miles
i in extent.”
Extensive vallies of a’lhvial soil aie found
among the mountain ranges ofthe Upper coun
try, p; rticularly upon the water courses; and
the scenery in these hilly districts is at once
wild, sublime, and beautiful. They are also
considered to be the most healthful and frae
from the numerous insects which plague the
Lower regions in the hottest part of the year.'
{Tobe concluded next week.)
From Blackwoods Magwine.
THE TERRIBLE BATTLE OF EYLAU,
FEBRUARY 1806.
1 Never in the history of war did two armies
J pass u night under more awful, and impressive
circumstances than the rival hosts who now
lay, without tent or covering, on the ex
panse ofthe field of Eylau. The close vicini
ty of the two armies, the vast multitude assem
bled in so narrow a space, intent only on mu
tual destruction ; the vital interests to the lives
and fortunes of all which Were at Stake; the
wintry wildness of the scene, cheered only by
the watchfires, which threw a partial low ou
the snow-clad heights around ; the shivering
groups, who in cither army lay a round tho
blazing fires, chilled by girdles of impenetra
ble ice ; the stern resolution of the soldiers iu.
the one array and the enthusiastic ardor of
those in the other; the liberty of Europe now
brought to the issue of one dread combat; the
glory of Russia and France dependant on the
efforts of the mightiest armament that either
had yet sett' forth ; all Contributed to impress
a feeling of extraordinary solemnity, which
reached the trust inconsiderate breast, oppres
sed the mind with a fueli g of anxious thought
and kept unclosed many a weary eyelid iu
both camps, notwithstanding the extraordinary
fatigues of the preceding days. The battl*
began at daylight on the Sth of February, in
the midst of a snow storm. At an early hour
I ofthe day Augerau’s column; 16,000 men, was
enveloped by the Russian masses, and, with tha
exception of 1,5'00 met), was entirely destroy
ed. Napoleon himself was tn the most em
mment hazard of being taken prisoner lie
had slept at Eylau on the night before, and
was now in the churchyard, where the crash
of the enemy’s balls on the steeple showed
how nearly danger was approachjng. Present
ly one of the Russian divisions, following rap
idly after the fugitives, ebtired fcylau by the
western street, and charged With loud hurrahs,
to the foot of the mount where the emperor was
placed with a battery of the imperia! guard
and a personal escort of a hundred men. Had
a regiment of horse been at hand to support
me attack, Napoleon must have been made
prisoner; for though the Inst reserve, consist
ing of six battalions of the old guard, were at
a short distance, he might Have been envelop
ed before they could get up to his rescue. Tha
fate of Europe ‘fieri hung By a thread, but i u
that terrible moment the emperor’s presence
of mind did not forsake him ; he instant! or
dered his little body guard, hardly more thaa
a company, to form line in order to check the
enemy's advance, and despatched orders to
the old guard to attack the column on one
flank, while a brigade of Murat’s horse charged
it on the other. The Russians, disordered by
success, and ignorant of the inestimable prize
which was almost within their grasp, were ar
rested by the firm countenance of the little
band of heroes who formed Napoleon’s last
resource; and before they tfo&ld reform their
ranks for u regular conflict, the enemy was up
on them on cither flank, arid almost the whole
division was cut to pieces on the spot. The
dreadful si mghter continued throughout the
d iv, the Russians and lh_ French alternately
repulsing each other, both sides fighting with
the most desperate intrepidity, and every
charge leaving the ground covered with car
nage. Towards evening the Prussians, under
L-stocq. advanced n'taiust the division of Fri
ant. The French were driven before them.
Marshal Davcttstin vain attempted to withstand
the torrent. “Here,” he cried, “is the place
where the brave should find a glorious death ;
the cowards will perish in the deserts of Sibe
ria.” Still the French were driven on, with
the loss of3ooo men, and the whole Russian
line were pressing on to victory, when the ra
pid night of the north fell, and the battle was
at an end. This was the first heavy blow
which Napoleon had received ill European
war. H-‘ bad once before been on the point
of ruin, but it war in Syria, and a British of.
fleer bad the honor of making the conqueror
of Italy recoil. It is now unquestionably that
at Eylau he was defeated. At ten at night he
gave orders for his artillery and baggage to
to the rear, and the advanced post to re
treat. He was on the point of being disgraced
in the eyes of Europe, when he was saved
from that disgrace by the indecision of the
Russian general. A council of war was held
by the Russian leaders bn horseback, to decide
on their future course. Count (Jsterman Tol
stoy, th? second in command, with general
Knoring & L stocq,urged strongly that retreat
was not to be thought of; that Napoleon was
beaten in a pitched battle ; that whichever ar
mv gained ground would be reputed the victor,
and that the true policy was to throw their
whole force upon him without delay. But Beu
iugse . unluckily, salified with hi ß triumph*
past the vigor of youth, unacquainted with the
enormous losses of the F-ench army, and ex
hausted by thirty-six hours On horseback, dfc
rected the march on Koningsberg. Such’was
the terrible battle ol Eylau, fought in the depth
of winter, amidst icc and snow, undercircum.
stances ot unexampled horror; the most bloodv
and obstmately-contested that had yet occur
red during the war ; and in which, ifNapoleon
dtd not sustain a positive defeat, he underwent
a disaster which had well high proved his ruin.
. he loss on both side was immense, and never
in modern times, had a field of battle been
strewed with such a multitude oi slain. On
’kirn °* the R >JS8 ‘ ilns twenty.five thousand
h.tc (alien, ot whom about Seven thousand were
already no more : on that of the French up
wards ol thirty thousand were killed or wound,
ed, and nearly ten thousand had left their colors
under pretence of attending to the wounded*
and did not make their appearance forshvefaf