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«Y JAMES W. JONES.
n ss w
MAIL ARRANGEMENTS.
, i&^ , kiag<tfcaaX>acC-Z a ~
fITHE Subscriber respectfully announces to
•*- the public, that he has in full operation a
LINE OF FOUR HORSE COACHES, from
Athens, via Watkinsville, Madison, to Eatonton,
and back, 3 times a week, leaving and returning
as follows :
Leaving Athens on Sundays, Tuesdays, and
Thursdays, at 6 o’clock, A. M., and arriving at
Eatonton, at 6 o’clock P. M-, on the same
■davs.
Leaving Eatonton on Mondays Wednesdays,
and Fridays, at 6 o’clock, A. M-, and arriving
in Athens, at 6 o’eloch P. M-, same davs.
H N. WILLSON, Contractor.
March 17—46—ts.
The Southern Recorder will please pub
lish the above until forbid.
BOOK BINDERY,
FlNhe subscribers would respectfully inform the
A Citizens of Athens, and the public generally,
that they have united themselves in the above
business, in the Third Story of Messrs S. Ten
ney & Co’s Book Store, immediately over the
Southern Whig Offiee, where work will be
executed in the neatest and handsomest style,
at the shortest notice.
Day Books, Journals, Ledgers, Record, and
Bank Books, &c, made to any patera of Ruling
or Binding.
CLARK BURDINE.
Athens Feb. 3, —40, —ts.
A GREAT BARGAIN,
ft w
THE Subscriber determined to emigrate te
the west, offers for sale his valuable I ract
of Land, containing
3000 Acres,
situate and lying in Jackson county, Ga., on the
Mulberry Fork of Oconee River, the residence
immediately on the hog mountain and main
Alabama Road, various other roads intersecting
at the same place, viz: the Milledgeville road
leading to Winns’ Ferry, on Chattahoochee,
Hurricane Shoal road, leading to Can esville
and South Carolina. Great part of the above
land is red mulatto land, of superior quality ;
100 Acres of rich river low grounds; about
800 Acres cleared, great part fresh and in good
repair, abounding with superb springs, well im
proved, with a convenient framed Dwelling
House, two story high, on a most splendid
eminence; an excellent Cotton and Threshing
Machinery, and all other necessary out houses.
No place is better calculated for public business,
otany kind, in the up country. Several con
venient settlements on the premises, not inter
fearing with each other; —the whole can be
purchased for nine Thousand Dollars, one third
in advance, the balance in two annual payments,
which is not more than two thirds of the real
value. Likely young negroes will be taken at
their value,
HARRISON THURMOND.
April 7.—49—3 m
CO” The Augusta Sentinel, will publish the
above weekly for three months, and forward
their account for payment to Braselton’s office.
KEW TAILOR’S SHOP,
THE undersigned, recently from the City of
New-York, respectfully informs the citi
zens of Athens, and the acjacent country, that
he has opened a Shop in the House formerly
occupied as an Office by Doct. Ware, in this
place, near the Slate Bank, where he will be hap- i
pv to execute any orders with which he may
be favored in his line of business. He has had
many years experience in the business, and
will devote to it his personal attention. His
workmen will also he first rate; and he hopes,
by his assiduous efforts to please', to receive a
share ofthe patronage of a liberal public.
0^- Cutting of all descriptions, will be done
on the shortast notice, and in the most fashion
able style.
B. F. CRANE.
Dec. 2,-31—tf
LIVERY STABLE.
-daLIVE-
T HE Undersigned has just op. f Athens,
RY STABLE in the Town o. ‘ -,.> s
immediately in the rear of Mr. H. A. b. ‘ .
Store, where he will keep on hand
VEHICLES OF
jfSik I
JErJSJKI* DESCRIPTION’,
ALSO
<s©©lD 513 ©STJ ©
i
And well l»rol£c
HARNESS HORSES
To Hire;
Persons wishing to travel, can be accommo
dated with Carriages and Horses at all times
His’Vehicles have now arrived. He will also
take on Livery the horses of any one wishing to
hlace their horses under his charge.
4 P. M. WELLS.
Jan. 27 39 ts.
it e m o v ai-
HA. FRASIER, hah removed his entire
. Stock of Goods into the Brick Building,
in Front Street next door to tbo Rail Road
Bank, where he will be pleased to see and ac
commodate his friends.
April— 28-—32 —if.
M Izzfl ii X >
e ! / fl s (1 ; l ’i e
I ‘ta \XgII Im Pis vis
JjuJ 11 jlw'Jl Ia JjL z 111 1 v DI/<
*
TASxO’S Fl! ISON SONG.
BY MRS. CRAWFORD.
Farewell, ye myrtle bowers,
Elysian haunts of love, —
Ye garlands of sweet flowers,
For Leonora wove!
Farewell, dear liberty,
As love itself supreme I
Hope has no gifts for me ;
And mem’ry, shadowy dream,
Like moonlight shed on beauty’s tomb,
But coldly lights my prison gloom.
Yc walls, where madness dwells,
And mindless beings rouse
The echoes of rude cells,
Yc witness Tasso’s vows.
Dear cause of all the tears,
That wash my galling chain, —
Os all the wrongs of years,
That cloud my heart and brain!
Sweet mistress of my thoughts and fate !
Dost thou not pity Tasso’s fats ?
Oh! bring me cypress drear
To bind my captive lyre,
And let ni}' deep despair
Thrill every trembling wire.
Come, wilding harp, awake,
Beneath thy master’s touch,
And tell how hearts will break,
That love hath troubled much:
How, by our warm affections, wo
Throw off this cold mortality.
GEORGIA SCENES, CHARACTERS, &
INCIDENTS.
NEW SERIES. NUMBER 11.
DARBY ANVIt.
I well r unember the first man who, with,
out any qualifications for the place, was clec
ted tj, iho legislature of Georgia He was a
blacksmith by trade, and Darby Anvil was his
name. 1 would not be understood as saying
that none had proceeded him but men of pro
found wisdom or even notable talents—at the
time of which I atn speaking, such were not
to be found in every county in the state—but
that none had been deputed to that body who
were not vastly superior to Anvil in every
moral and intellectual quality.
Darby came hither just at the close of the
Revolutionary war; and if his own report of
himself is to be believed, “7ie Jit” in that mem
orable struggle. True, he never distinctly
stated on which side “he fit” but as he spoke
freely ofthe incidents of the revolution, and at
a lime when tories were very scarce and very
mute, it was taken for granted that he fought
on the right side.
Darby established himself u>on a lot in the
then villagcol .which cost him nothing ;
for in his day town lots, and even large tracts
cl land, w ere granted to any one, who would
occupy them for a given time. Two log huts
soon rose uptwi Darby’s lot; into one of which,
he stowed his wife and children, and m the
other bis blacksmith’s tools. He now plied
his trade assiduously ; and us all trades tiour
i bed at that time, he grew rich apace. A
year had hardiy rolled away before a snug
tramed house rose in front of his low
dwelling ; and his shop gave place to one of
more taste and convenience, from the hands of
a carpenter. The brand of a horse-shoes upon
the shop door no longer served Daiby for a sign
but high over the entrance of the smitherv,
from a piece ofiron-work, of crooks and con- j
volutions unutterable, hung a flaming sign ‘
board, decorated on either side, w ith appropri- !
ate designs. Ou either side was Darby in per- 1
son, shoeing General VVashington’s horse—l i
say it was Washington’s horse, because Dar- I
by said so, and Billy Spikes, who printed it, I
said so. Certainly it was large enough for I
Washington’s horse; for taking Du by, whose |
height i knew for a gague, and his horse could ;
not have been less than five and twenty feet ;
high.—Ou the other side was a plough," with ;
handles nine feet long, by the same measure ; ;
studd id with hoes, and axes, staples and horse I
shoes. Every tiling around Darby bore the !
aspect of thrift and comfort. In short, his
fortune increased, even faster than his children:
and this is no small compliment to his idustry
and economy ;’for Mrs. Anvil had not, tor ma
ny years, suffered eighteen months, to pass,
w ithout reminding him, with a blush through
a otiu rk. that she would “soon want a little su-
I gar and coffee and sweeten’d dram for the lit
tle stranger.” Darby had just received the
tenth notice of this, kind, w hen he resolved to
turn politician. Whether they had any influ. ’
once upon him in formi. g this rush resolution 1
I am nut prepared to say, but certain it is, :
that he had received these notices for several :
wars preceding, with a rapidly declining in.
forest; insomuch, that when the last came, it
gave to bis countenance an expression better
suited to dyspepsia than to such joyous tidings
bud he was proceeding to make a most un
cou " k *‘ US res P <,,lßt> » w! ien the kindling fire of
1 i ’s J ve » brought him to an anticlimax
of passible gC'o-ii'y- “ W Nancy !” said he
,» ‘ i " V ‘V sou 1 cont, grudge
“Lord a massy o>.. ••. , a . ° »
vou‘hi: rum and sugar dl, <- ’ , , .
, -—were havin’
it does sieni to me-that—~ ()j
a powerful chaiiCe o children, son.- - can
uother.” lam digressing a little, but i -
not resume my subject, without doing m." s - |
Anvil the justice to say.that she defended her
dignity with becoming spirit, and by a short
but pungent syllogism, taught Darby that he
had more cause tor selfcondemnatiou, ‘.han for
grudgings or astonishment.
Darby Anvil, though ignorant in the ex
treme, had some shrewdness, and much low
cu:i i g- He knew well the prejudices and
weak ess ofthe common people of the county,
•id hud no little tact in turning them to bis own
UO *P ” •*, rn< ' v s of eminence, who had repeat
iwoai.. . -.in herdelib rative assent
edly served the e „ . _ w . )r , were can did
blics, during and at. ; • ■ ll|(j lej , isl . ltui . e
ales for lhe popular bratrn. *, a))(J
when Darbv determined to mas. ‘
supernumerary candidate, tie aniiou
claims in the only way in which he couldm. ve |
announced them without exposing himselt to
overwhelming ridicule ; for the people ot those
days pretty generally harbored the supersti
tious notion,"that the talents were indispensa
ble to wholesome legislation.
There Was a great harbacue in the county.
It was the wager of a hunting match, and con
sequently every body was invited, and every
body attended. During the festival, when
Darby and ten or twelve of his own class,
were collected round the bottle, “boys,” said
I he “how ’bout the ’lection this year?”
“Oh,” said one, “there’s no opposition.”
“No opposition J” continued Darby; “by
“WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.”— J ejj'erSOll.
zounds, that ’ll never do ; we’ll have no fun.
I’ll bo ding’d if I dont offer myself if I cant
git a smaller man to offer, rather than have no
fun at all. What do you say, Bill Rucher;
wont you go in for the old blacksmith against
the lawyers?” smiiling and winking to the by.
slanders.
“Oh yes,” said Bill, carelessly. “I’ll go in
for you to a red heat.”
‘•W ell, thar’s one vote for the old blacksmith,
any how.”
“Johnny, you’ll stick to uncle Darby, agin
the lawyers, I know, wont you, Johnny ?”
•‘Yes,’’said John Fields, “I’ll stick to vou
like grim death to a dead nigger.’
“Jimmy Johns ’ll go oh no, I’ve no
chance of Jimmy’s vote ; bein’ as how he’s a
mighty takiu’ to lawyers since his brother
Bob’s case was tryn. How ’bout that Jimmy ?”
with a dry, equivocal laugh.
“Blast there infernal souls!” said Jim, “I’d
vote for the devil ’fore I’d for either of them.
They made out my ev’dencc was nothin’t all
but swearin’ to lies for Bob from one eend to
tother.”
••Well. Jimmy,” pursued Darby, “you must
n’t mind uncle Darby’, laughin’ my son. I
cant help laughin’every time I think how mad
you was when you come to my shop tkiat day,
but you know I told you you’d get 01 er it, and
vote for ’squires at last did n’t I? ’
“Yes, and you told a he too, didn’t you un
cle Darby
Here Darby roared immoderately, and then
becoming suddenly very grave, he proceed
ed .•
“But boys,” puttin’ all jokin’ away, its wrong
mighty wrong, for any body t« be puttin’ up
on any body’s character after that sorts, I
dont care who they is. And if I was iu the
legislator, the first thing I’d do would be to stop
it.”
“Well, uncle Darby why dont you offer ?”
said Johns; “I’ll go for you, and there’s
plenty more ’ll go for you if you ’ll come
out.”
“Yes, that there is,” said Job Snatch, (an
other sufferer in court.) —“I’ll go for you.”
“And so will I,” said Seth Weed.
“Why boys,” interrupted Darby, “if you
I dont blush, you’ll make me come out sure
i enough. And what would Ido in the ’ssem
bly?”
“I’ll tell you what you’d do,” said Sam Flat,
crustily “you’d set up in one corner of the
room, like poor folks at a frolic, and never
open your mouth. And I’ll tell you another
thing—my opinion is you want to offer too,
and you’re only fishing for an excuse to do
it now.”
Darby burst into a loud laugh ; but there
was enough of chagrin mingled with it, to
shew plainly that he felt the truth of Sam’s
remark. It was near a minute before he
could reply :
“Oh no, Sammy, I’ve no notion of offerin’,
unless it mout be just to have a little fun. And
it I was to offer what harm would it do? i
could n’t be elected ; and if I was n’t, I would
n’t care ; for it would n’t be no disgrace for a
poor blacksmith to be beat by great folks that’s
beat every body.”
“Well,” said Jimmy Johns, “may I xay
you’s a candidate ?”
“Jimmy, you is a free man, and has a right
to say what you please.”
“And I’m u free man, and I’ll say what I
please too,” said Job Snatch.
“And so am I,” said Seth Weed.
“Why what’s got into these boys’’ chuck
ed out Darby, ‘I b’lieve they’re g wine to make
me a cand’date whether J will or no. I did
n’t know I had so much pop’larity. Let me
git away ft-om here or I’ll be made a great
man in spite of myself. But I must take a
drink before 1 go. Come boys, lest take a
drink ; and I’ll ,-ive you a toast:
“ Here’s wishin’ that honest men, who’s bilge to go to
court to swear,
"May not be ’low’d to be made game of by lawyers of
the BAKE.
The sentiment, like many electioneering
harangues of • qual merit in the present dav,
was received “with u. bounded applause ;” and
amidst laughter and entreaties tor a repetition
ofthe toast, Darby hastened away to a small
party of marksmen, who had made match,
and were trying their skill apart from the
throng. To these, he made himself obsequi
ous, while his friends spread the news of his
candidacy. It soon pervaded the whole as
sembly, and many went to him to know the
truth ofthe report. His answers to such were
regulated by tone and manner with which they
put their questions. If they exhibited no as
tomshment, ha told them, that “he had tried
to git off. but his friends kept plagueiug him
so Io offer that he was blige to give up, or
make’etn all mad,and therefore lie told’em
they mout do as they pleased.” If the en
quirer exhibited signs of wonder and incredu
lity, Darby gave him an affirmative; with all
the tokens of irony. Among the rest came
Smith and Jones, the two candidates. .They
happened to meet him just as be was returning '
to the crowd from the shooting match, and
when no person was with him.
“Darby,” enquired Smith, “is it possible
that you are a candidate for the legislature?”
“VV hy not ?” returned Anvil witli ablush.
Why you are utterly unqualified—j ou will
disgrace yourself.”
“I know.” rejoined Anvil, “that I’d make a
mighty poor out o’speakin’ agin lawyers; but
I reckon us how, I could vote, as good as
them.”
.‘You are mistaken Darby,”said Jones. “It
requires “ better head to vole right than to
speak well. ?'‘»e business of law making, is
a very delicate wlllch should De man
aged with the nicest Case, ouecially in tins
country It is true that it has been much sim
plitied in the several states, by our admirable
form of government. A vast variety of sub
jects, and those too with which the people at
large, ate generally best acquainted, have been
withdrawn from the state legislatue. but
Still, i. l ‘° states are sovereign ; aud possess all
power not socially delegated to the general
government — t .
“You should have sum,’ interrupted Smith,
“that the business of state legis.'fttion has been
diminished, rather than that it lias been simp t
<ied. In truth it has been rendered more m
'cate by our novel form of government. In
other c ’•miti'** 8 the law-giver has only to study
dm'imerests'u.f the “cople, mid legislate accor
diuglv; but here, u. adJ.’Uon to the ordma y
dutie'sofa legislator he has o’.hers of mfim.e
difficulty and infinite importance to < J ’
He is one of the guardians ot a sts.e. 1
is both sovereign and subject —sovereign, y
constitution—subject, by concession. He must
consider well, therefore, the powers winch she
has ceded, and yield implicit obedience to
them; he must study well the powers which
she has reserved, and fearlessly maintain them.
An error on thv one hand a step towards
ATHENS. GEORGIA, SATLOAI, JUNES, 1838
anarchy—an error on the other is a step to
wards slavery”
“Why,” interrupted Darby, “I do’nt under
stand head nor, tail of all this garment.”
‘•I was not addressing myself to you,” said
Smith, “though I confess that what I was sav.
lag, was meant for your improvement. I was
in hopes you would understand enough of it
to discover your unfitness for the legisla
ture.”
“I think.”said Jones,” I can convince Dur
by of that in a more intelligible way.
“Darby, what does a man go to the legisla
ture for ?”
“Why, to make laws,” said Darby.
“True; and to mend such as have been
I made. Now do you know what laws have
■ been made ?”
“No.”
| “Do you know how those have operated
which have been made.”
“Operated !”
“I mean, do vou know whether they have
proved good or bad.”
“No, I tell you ; I don’t know notin’ ’tall
’bout ’em.
“Well, now suppose a man should come to
your shop and offer to work for you a month—at
plough.making we will suppose—and wtieti
you ask him if he understood making such
ploughs as were used in Georgia, he should
reply, that he knew nothing at all about
ploughs—his whole life had been spent in shoe
making ; but that if you would lay two ploughs
before him he could tell you which he thought
best, and that, whenever you wanted his opin
ion, or vote upon shop matter he could give as
good as any one. What would you think of
him ?”
“ Then ’cordin’ to your chat, no body ought
to go to ’seembly but lawyers.” said Dar
by.
“I do not say so ; but that no one should go
there who has not some little knowledge ofthe
business, which he has to do. 1f he possess
this knowledge, it matters not, whether he be
lawyer, farmer, merchant or mechanic.”
By this time quite a crowd, mostly of unlet
tered persons, hud collected round the candid
ates ; and though it was imoossible for Darby
to hide his chargin while he and his competi
tors were alone, it became less and less visible
with every accession to the group ; so that bv
the time Mr. Jones concluded his remarks, it
was entirely dissipated ; and Darby stood be
fore the company, decidedly the most self-con
fident of the three.
“Well,” said h >, planting himself estraddle,
and placing his arms akimbo, “now I’ve heard
you all through, let me see how the old black
smith can argity with two lawyers at a time.
1 know I’m nothin’ but a poor ign’ant black
smith that dont know nothin’ no how; and
furthermore I dont think no body ought to go
to th; ’sembly but lawyers either, bein’ as
how they’re iht smartest people in the world.
But howsomever, that’s neithet here nor
thar. Now Mr. Smith you say I’d disgrace
myself to go to the ’ssembly ; and I reckon its
so, for I’m like my neighbors here, hard work,
ing peopla, who ha’n’t g<>t no business doin’
nothing but working for great folks at.d rich
folks now how. Ilm U——-
nilher her nor thar, as the fellow said. Now
1 want to ax you a tew questions; and you
mustn’t git mad with me, for I only want to
git a little lamin’. And firstly ofthe first place,
to begin at the begmnin’, as the fellow said.
A’n’t a poor man as free asa rich min?” wink
ing, with a stnerk to the bystanders.
“Certainly,” said Smith.
“And did n’t they fight for libity, as well as
rich ones.”
“Yes.”
“Well—hem!—and a’u’t they as honest as
rich men?”
“No doubt of it.”
‘‘Well, if a poor man is as free as a rich
man,” (no./s you must n't git mad with me,) and
they fit for libity as well as them, and is us
honest; how comes it that some people that’s
the smartest in the world, votes for no body
havin’ votes, but them that’s got laud ?” Here
several ot th" bystanders who had been inter
changing winks and smiles, in token that they
foresaw the dilema into which Darby was lead
ing his antagonist, burst into a loud laugh.
••Now a’n’t he the devil !” whispered
one.
“I tell you what it is,” said a second, “the
lawyers a’n’t gwine to git nothin’ out o’hitn.”
“Mighty smart man”—said a third, gravely
—“powerful smart, for his opportunities!”
“I advocated freehold suffrage,” returned
Smith, “in the convention that framed the
constitution, not b- cause I thought the rich
man entitled to higher privileges than the poor
man ; but because I thought him less expo,
sed to temptation. Indeed, my proposition
made no distinction between the poor and the
rich: tor there is not a farmer tn the state
who has not more laud than would have enti
tled him to a vote under it. But I apprehend
the time will come, when our states will be
inundated with strangers and s. jomners among
us—mere floating adventures—who have no
common interest, feeling, or sympathy with us.
who will prostitute the right of suffrage to pri
vate gain, and set up their votes to the high
est bidder. 1 would therefore have confined
this right to those who have a fixed and per
manent interest in the state—who must share
the honors, or suffer the penalties of wise, or
corrupt legislatio i.”
“If Smith is to be blamed,” said J ones,
‘for Irs course in the convention, so am 1. I
differed from him to be sure in measure but
agreed with him in principle. I would have
hud a small property.qualification, without
confining it to laud ; but his answer to this
was decisive. It the amount of property re
quired were large, it would disqualify many
honest voters who aie permanent residents of
the state-.—it it were small, every stranger
who brought with him money enough to bear
his travelling expenses wou d be qualified to
vote. But we were b< th overruled ”
“Gentlemen.” said Daiby, “you talk too
much dictionary lor me. I was n’t raised to
much book lartiin’, nor dictionary larnin.’ But
howsomedever; I think squire Smith, vou
said anybody that did n’t own no land would
sell their votes to the highest bidder; ami I
reckon its so, for you great finks knows more
than me ; bul ’the proot the pimd’ff.’j in ehew ■
in’ the bag.’ as the TeitoW said ; therefore let’s
see how the thing ’ll work. Jimmy Johns,
you dont own no laud, and therefore ’cordin’
to the squire’s noratio. t, you’ll sell your vote
t» the highest bidder.—What’ll you take for
it?”
“No body better not tell me,” said Jim,
“that i’ll sei! my vote; or I’ll bo dad s ized if
I doot fling a handful o’fingers right in his
face in short matcher — I dont cure who he
is.”
“I did not say,” resumed Smith “that any
man now in the state would sell his Vote—nor
du I believe any true Gcwgian by birth, or
adoption, ever will; but the time will come
when idle, worthless vagabonds, will come
amongst us, who wili sell their votes, for a
pint of rum, if they can gel no more.
“Well squire, now it seems to me—but I
dont know—but it, seems to me, some how or
notiier, that it ’ll be time enough to have laud
votin’, when that time comes ; and not to be
gin upon poor folks now, to stop mean folks
when we we’re all dead and gone. 'Them
folks I reckon can take care o’themselves.”
“Then it will be too late,” interposed Jones.
“Men who have a marketable article, will ne
ver give it away, or allow it to be taken from
them. Should they be willing to renounce it,
there will be factious demagogues enough to
prevent them from so doing. INo, Darby, if
you would establish a good government, you
must do it at its organization. Thenceforward
there is a ceaseless war between the governors
and the governed. The rulers are ever unsur
ping the rights of the people, or the people are
ever resuming the rights of the”- -
‘•Stop a little thar,” interrupted Darby.
“You say thar’s a war’tween the gov’ment.
Now what’s the reason I never hearn of that
war? I’ve hearn of the old French war, and
the Rev’iution war, and the Indian war; but
I never hearr. of that war before.
“I dont say,” continued Jones, impatiently
“that there is a war—a fight
“Oh, well; if you take that back, why we’ll
start agin. But howsomedever, when I’m
gwine to a place, I always try to take the
right road at first, and then thar’s no ’casi.n
for turnin’ back.
“Well D.irb,” said Jones, “you are certain,
ly a bigger fool then I took you to be, and
that’s not your worst faith.”
“TFell, now you see,” said Darby, bristling
‘that kind o’chat an’t gwine todo for me know
how ; and you must take it back, quite quick
is you did the war, or I’ll make the fur fly to
the tother sorts.’
‘Yes, I’ll be dad seized if I did n’t, said Jim
my Johns, becoming furious—“ Talkin’s tai
ki.i , but callin', a man the fool,’ s no sort o’
chat.
‘Uncle Darby,’ said John Field, ‘vou gwine
to swallow that ! /f you do you need n’t
count on John Fieldses vote.’
‘No I’m not,’continued Darby, touching his
eoat. ‘Gentlemen, I did n’t go to squire Jones ;
he come to me and brought on the fuss, and 1
dont think 1 am to blame. My charricter’s
as good to me, as his'n to him, and—gentle
men I’m a plain, hard working man, but I’ll be
buru’d if I can bear everything.’
•Strip yourself, Darby,’ said Snatch, fling
ing off his coat as if it were full of nettles, and
pouring forth a volley of oaths without order
or connexion—“strip yourself—you sha’n’t
be imposed upon--!’!! see jou out.’
•Oh, well now. said John Reynolds, (the
bully ot the country ) cooly, “there’s to be any
lur-flying here, I must have a little of the pul.
ling ot it. And D irby, vou’re not going to
knick the ’Squire till v <»u walk over me to do it.
He’s holpt my wife and children too often when
they’ve been sick, for me to stand bv and se.
him imposed upon, right or wrong —that’s the
racket.’
• We|t -LJinrur ’ Aairl D-.rkv k*~
coat, T alwas liked the ’Squire myself, and
always voted for him—dont you know I did
Johnny—But then you know yourself that its
mighty hard for a man to be called a fool to
his face—now a’u’t it Johnny?’
‘Why it’s a thing that dont go down easy.
I know ; but then look look at t’other side a
little. Now you made out the’Squire eat his
words about the war; and that’s mighty hard
to swallow too. Now, he told you he did n’t
mean they fit; and you know any body’s liable
to make mistakes any how, and you kept ma
kin’ ou that lie had to back out from what he
said and’
“Yes, Darby.’ said Jimmy Johns, ‘that’s a
tact. Johnny’s right. You brushed the ’Squire
a little too close there, Darby,and I cant blame
him for gittin’ mad. I’ll stick by you when
you’re bn the right side, but 1 cant go with
you there. I could n’t a stood it myself.’
‘Yes, Darbv,’ said Fields, “y> u must eon
fess yourself that you began it; aid therefore
vou ought n’t to got mad—That was wrong,
Darbv ; and I cant go with you them lengths.’
‘How was it ?’ said Snatch, as if hu were at
the beginning of the affray. ‘How was it?’
•Why,’said Jehus, "‘Daiby made out the
’Squire eat his words; and then the ’Squire
called Darby a fool.’
‘ Oh, chuch !’ said Snatch, was that the way
of it! Darbv’s wrong. If I’d o’kuow that, i
would n’t ’a’ open’d my mouth.’
‘Well,’said Darby, “I b’lieve I was wrong
there Johnny; audit’ my friends say so, 1
know I was; and therefore I’m willing to drop
it. But 1 was only jokin’ with the ’Squire
and did ’nt mean to make him mad ; and I’m
willing to drop it—l always looked upon the
’Squire as a mighty good kind hearted man.'’
• Oh, yes,’ said three or four at once, ‘ drop
it.’
‘ I was just waitin’ to see a row,’ said ‘ Satn
Flat.’ (bully number 2,) and I’d ’a’ kept up all
sorts o’ rulin’ and tumblin’ over this barbacue
ground.’fire I’d ’a’ seen the ’Squiie hurt.’
‘Ob. but Srninv,’ said Johns, Fields and
Snatch, in one voice, ‘its all over now. Drop
it—We all see Daiby was wrong.’
•Oh, yes,’ said John White, reeling under a
pint of rum, ‘drop it; it’s all got in—a wrong
fix—by not knowin’ nothin’ ’bout it.
I heard it every bit—’Squire did n’t say what
Darby said and Darby did n’t say what
’Squire said. and none of you did’nt say
wh it all of vou said and that’s—the way—you
all got to quarr’tiu* and fightin.’ We’re all
friends and let’s go take a drink.
Which whipp’d?’
Before IFliite concluded this very luminous
and satisfactory explanation, the attorneys and
their friends had retired, and Darby proceed
ed.
“Gentlemen, when I first talked ’bout bein’
cand’date, 1 had no notion of bein’ one—l j<-si
said it in fun, as all the boys here knows ; but,
now you see since th ygo to puttin’on me ni
ter ibis sorts, I’ll be blamed if [ dont be a can
ddate, even if git b' at. This is a free country,
in which every man has a right to do as he
plea es, ai d ’cordin’ to their chat, no body
ha’ii’t got no right to be ca d’dates but lawyers,
ti mat's the chat. 1 do it know "',' ia , our rev
’lutioti was for, and 1 fit in it too. Gentlemen
von see how I’ve been persecuted !”
Darby’s resolution was applauded by some,
and his insulted dignity soothed by others.
He now surrendered himself unreservedly to
electioneering. His first object was insecure
ihefavorofJohu Reynolds; for the bully of
a county was then (as be still is, though les
sum d much in importance.) a v ry desirable
auxiliary in a canvass. '1 his was easily’ of.
fected by a little kindness, and a little hypoc
ricv, and Darby wanted neither when his inter
est was at stake. He soon persuaded John,
that till had sgid to JJr, Jvuts was a joke,
* or (what w.as the same ihfiig to John) an er
ror m Darby ; and as the bully of a country is
i too much occupied in seeking glory, to attend
much to his trade or his farm, and is therefore
constantly in need of some assistance from his
• more industrious neighbors. Darby had
I opportunities enough of conciliating John by
I kind offices. These he improved so handsome*
i fy,that John was soon won by gratitude, and
came out his open supporter. Marvelous was
now the “change” which “came over the spir
it of’’Darby’s “dream.” Hisshop was corn
mitted to the entire management of Sambo &
Cufly, and his “little strangers.” to Nancy
He rode night and day—attended every gath
ering in the county—treated liberally—aped
dignity here, cracked obscene jokes 'there
sung vulgar songs in one place, talked grave
ly iu another—told Io g, dry stories —gave
short mean toasts jested with'the women, and
played with the children—grew lib rul in sure- 1
tidiips—paid promptly—d ua €( j uo i JOC >y— anc |
asked every body to vote for him. Bv these
means, his popul irity increased wonderfully.
Three months lay between the barbacue and
the election ; and before the expiration of the
first, the wise began to fear, and the foolish to
boast, that Darby Anvil would be elected. An
other month placed thematterbeyond dispute;
and left to either of the candidates the alterna-
tive on making common casue with Darby,
or of staying at home. The temptation was
too strong for Smith’s integrity. He formed
I a secret alliance with Darby. It was affect.
|ed with great care, and much cunning: but
it was exposed by his conduct, and its results.
It was the first instance of such self-abasement
that I ever witnessed in Georgia, (would that
it hid been the last !) and it was received
with becoming indignation by the virtuous and
intelligent of the country. They took to
field iilmos’ to a man in behalf of Jones; and
but for his magnanimity, the', would have suc
ceeded at last iu giving Smith the just reward
of his trencher. But Jones implored them by
their regard for the future welfare of the state
to level all their forces against Anvil, and not
against Smith “If S.,”said he “isretur- edto
the leiglature, he will serve you with profit,
if not with honor ; but if Darby be elected, he
will be worthless as a member, and ruinous as
an example. Encouraged by his success,
hundreds of stupid asses like himself, will
make their wav to the General Assembly ; and
the consequence will be our government will
become a despotism of fools, and a disgrace to
repulicanism.” By these, and many olher
more forcible arguments, which I have not
room to repeat Jones prevailed upon his friends
to sacrifice their private prejudices to the pub
blic good, and to bend all their exertio s to the
exclusion of Anvil. They did, so, and fora
time wo dcrful were the effects of their es
forts. So commanding was their position,
that even the common people were attracted
by it, and many came over to them from the
ranks of the coalition. Smith was cowed by
ihe noble bearing of his old friend towards
him, and remorse greatly paralyzed his exer
tions. Darby, too, grew alarmed, that he be
came serious ; and by as much as he grew se
rious, by so much did he lose his influence.
I•• wlm*. ~t » ■■■■■u.v.i. ***— h i .1'
that after attyDatljy would have been beaten,
had not a little incident occurred, which se
cured his election, i.i spite of opposition. It
was a strange incident to be fallowed by such
an effect.
There is aft old Scotch song which says ;
Be a lassie e’er sae black
An' she hae the name o’sillar
Set her upo’ Tintock tap,
The wind will blaw a man till her.
The winds are not more prositious to the
‘ siller'd' lassie, than tmprupitious to the can
didate. If ever he has committed a fault, no
matter when or where, the wind will blown
babbler to him. It was so with Darby—
though unfortCkiate, only iu a moral, not a po.
litical sense.
About three weeks before the election, a
traveller stopped at a public housein thecoun.
ty where several persons had collected, ai d
among the rest was Your Uncle Nicky Bugg
—This was a title which he assumed himself,
and wkich was accorded to him by universal
consent. The company were all supporters
<>f Jones, and their conversation turning upon
the approach ng election, they denounced
Darby Anvil in unmeasured terms. The
stranger, probably emboldened by their senti
ments, after putting a t’ew questions as to Dar.
bv’s personal identity, stated, that Darby had
left Virginia between two days, in order to
avoid a prosecution for prejury.--The stran
ger said, he was not himself’, personally ac.
quai -ted with the facts, but referred to a num.
ber of persons in Virginia who would confirm
his stateme: tby certificates. The Ct rl ifica'es
were immediately written for; and to make
their effect the moredecisive.it was resolved
by the company that they would not whisper
the important discovery, until the certificates
arrived. Fortunately for Darby, they did not
arrive until the evening before the election.
At an early hour ofthe succeeding day Darby
made his appearance at the court house, at the
head of about thirty men—some in wagons,
some on horseback and double) and
some on foot. They all had their tickets, in
their hats, with the names of Smith ano Anvil,
written on them, in large characters. As they
proceeded to the polls, they made the village
ring with shouts of “Hurra tor Smith !” ‘-Hur
r<i for Anvil!” “Hurra for the Blacksmith,
ami the People’s candidate 1” Darby had pro
vided a table, and a dozen bottles of rum, to
which he led his friends, and told them to
drink freely and vote boldly. He was remind
ed that if he should be elected, h - would have
to swear that he had not gained his election
bv treating, canvassing. &c. &c. to which he
replied that he “could swaller that oath migh
ty < asy, for he reckoned no body wa’. ’t so
mean as to vote tor him just because he treat
ed ’< tn.’’
Owing to some misunderstanding of the
magistrates who were to preside at the elec
tion, or from some other cause unknown, the
polls were not opened until an hou-or two af
ter the usual time. The delay was extremely
aimoyii g to Darby ; for it) the interim his
friends paid such prof'tind respect to his first
i junction above mentioned, that several of
th- rn were fast b coming hors de suffrage, isl
may be allowed the expression. At length
came the magistrates however, and no sooner
had thev entered the court yard, where was
collected an immense throng, than your uncle
Nicky look the topmost step at the door of the
court house, and demanded the attention of ev
ery gentleman present. The demand had to
bo repeated several timesbefoie it was heeded
by all ; but it finally succeeded in gathering
round him every voter on the campus. they
wi r<,'soon reduced to silence, and Bugg com
menced reading in a slow and audible voice,
the cruel certificates. lu the raetm time Dhr-
% 01. I i—Ao d.
j by, r s one very truly observed “ look’d pow
ertul bad.” He slatted like an owl at noon,
day, imd trembled like the shot.- of a grist-mill.
He changed feet as rapidly as if he had Iteen
upon hot embers ; and as for his hands, suffer*
ed them to do as they pleased ; and they pleas,
ed to go through evolutions that no pen can
describe. 1 can only say of them, that they
sei med to be in frantic search fur the mind
that had deserted them ; !<*r they wandered
all over his body and all through his apparel
giving occasional hints to the materialists, that
the mmd may at last be seated, where none of
them have ever yet placed it. To aild ifpos
sible to Darby’s embarrassment, your uncle
Nicky was one of those men to whom a fight
was an accommodation ; Darby could not
therefore with safety, resort to lire usual ex*
pedieut in such cases—a quarrel with the au
thor of his mortification. He received a con*
solation, however, the most grateful that Could
have been offered to his tortured freh gs, even
before B igg had disposed of the certificates—
It was from the cry of “ persecution !” which
issued from a number of voices, accompanied
by other consoliiory expressions, which in*
creased a* soon as Bugg had concluded.
“ Il’s too bad,” exclaimed one. “ to attack
a mini so, right on the ’lection day, to his face,
when he ha’u’t got no chance o’ defending
himself!”
“Ah, well now,” said a second, “ it they
go to takiu’ these ia-turns upo.i a fallow, they
a ut gwine to get no good of it ; and you ’li sco
it. The clean thing’s the clean thing; but
this wrapping u fellow up all at once when
he’s no chance, is no sori o’doiu’s.”
Walk ticket!” exclaimed a third, (tearing
up a ticket on which was Jones’ mime,) and
come over the old blacksmith ! Into mv hand
slitter : fair play’s-a j< wel ; and that’s what I
govs tor in ’L-ciioueering as wed as every
thing else.” “Never mind, Darby.” added
a fourth, “you a’u’t dead yet. if you are down
a.id kicking. There’s enough here’ll stand
by you yet, keep a stiff upper lip and you’ll
come through yet.”
‘ I swear,” a ! ded a fourth, it’s too bad ’
It’s enough to hurt any m in’s feelings to be so
put upon, uubekuowens.”
These and many other expressions of ths
like kmd, se far restored Darby’s equanimity,
that he was able to take the step in his defence,
as soon as Bugn descended from it. ~Wbeu
he mounted the rostrum, his appearance wag
quite unparliamentary. He was dressed in a
toll suit of mud-coloured homespun ; the work
manship of Nancy’s own hands, from the
carding to the weaving. His pantuk.ons were
supported only by his hips, for suspenders were
nut then worn ; and even with this advantage
ut the one extremity, they were full five inches
too short at the other. 'They reached his
-ocks, only when ho stood firm ou both legs
—that is, when they were suffered to hang in
a right hue—bui as Darby rarely used both
limbs at the same time, there was an alter., ate
flushing of naked skin from either limb, of
the most bewitching novelty. His vest was
more u.icourtous to his pantaleons, than were
his socks, for no position of Darby’s body could
induce it to come within an inch of them.
mediator between them, and gracefully rolled
out into the vacant space, seemingly to encir
cle the on tor, with a sash of coarse but clean
white sausage. Darby wore no carvat, and
from accident or design, (the former, I sup
pose,) his shirt collar was thrown entirely o
pen ; leaving exposed, an most unsightly
Adams apple, that gave to his neck, the ap
peamn e of a little dromedary. Upon hit
coat, Niiiicy had obviously "spread herself’*
as we sa_v in Georgia. >She seemed to have
taken lhe pattern from the wings of a horse-fly.
From a p i,.t about seven inches above the
os coxiges, it debouched to the right aud left,
with daring eucioachment upon his calves.
Two ling ', pleno-convex, covered buttons,
marked the salien points ofthe skirls ; and as
m.my (o:i eitherskirt one.) the r aether limits.
The moulds of these gorgeous ornaments, were
cut by the measure ot’ a half dollar, from a
dried gourd : of course, therefore, it was in the
covering that they took their shape, which I
have given to ibern. Five buttons more, ejiqs
dem generis, stood i i open order upon each
tape! ; and from every button, advanced in
marvelous length, a button-hole, worked w ith
“ indigo.blue,” so that they looked like two
little detachments of artillery, drawn up in
battle array against each other. Coarso
sharp.pointed shoes, and a low crowned broad
btimed. white h it, completed the costume, of
the first omtor th.it I ever had the pleasure of
hearing address the electors of a country i«
Georgia. Indeed, he was the last also ; tor
though it is not now an'unusual thing, for can
didates “ to respond m s'i ains of glowing elo
quence” (see gazettes papitn) at dinner par
ties aud bmbaciies, it is a very rare thing for
them io address “the sovereignty” when as
sembled to exercise the elective franchise.
But Darby had no alternative. The greetings
which he met with from the crowd when ha
ascended the tribune, were such as would have
confounded any one, who did not understand
the spirit with which they were uttered.
Strange ns it may seem to the reader, they
were meant for encouragement, and were so
uuderstoorl by Darby.
“Hey Darb !” voc if rated one “you’re
too strong in yotn Ttmuers; you’ve push’d
your l< gs too far through ) our breeches !”
•• Never mind that Darby !” cried another.
“Tuck iu your shirt tail, and uorate away tho
best vou can ; we’ll see you out I”
“Why Darby.” cried the third, “what
akes you swaller so ? Stand up to your fod
derlikea man ! You’ve got a plenty u’lfieads
h re vet.”
“ Wtiv gentleman,” proceeded Darby, “it’s
enough to m ko any body, swaller, and feel
b id too, to be put upon after this sorts, all un.
beknowetis, when he ha’u’t go, no chance o’
defendin’ himsolf-—no m.umero’chance. Gen
tlemen, I fit i.i the revolution, and if I’m now
to lose my charicter, because I’rnti ok all un*
awars, 1 shall thi k it the hardest case I ever
hearn of in all my b rn days. Gentlemen my
charider’s as much to me, and any hard wor*
km’ man. as any man’s charicter is to him }
if he’s lawyer, or a doctor, or a store-keeper
or I dont care what he is. For what’s a mau
worth that a’n’t got no charic cr? Hu’s like
a pair o’bellowses that h i’n’t got no nosn.or a
saw that hu’n’t got no ha idle—they a’n’t no
muiimr o’ ’count —you cant use ’em at all.
(• That’s the truth Darby,’ interposed a voice,
giavcly,) Gentlemen I’ve lived a long time
with you ; did any of you ever hear of my
usin’ parj’ry ? I reckon, isl had time I could
ffitce’iifcates too ; but you all s e I a’n’t got
no time at all. Gentlemen I do..ttui k I ever
seed anv one that was so pars, cute I, in alt my
born days ; and if I’m b at now, 1 shall think
I’m beat hv persecution, and there’s my wife
and ten children, a id they must all lose their