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".Tune 30, 1833—9—ts
TAILOR’S SHOP,
XHE undersigned, recently from the City of
- . 'yjiaßaw-York, respectfully informs the citi
the acjaccnt country, that
■feop in the House formerly
by Poet. Ware, in this
the State Bank, where he willbehap
■Bto’ execute anv orders with which he may
favored in his fine of business. H e has had
* many years experience in the business, and
will devote to it. his personal attention. His
workmen will also be first rate; and he hopes,
by his assiduous efforts to please, to receive a
share of the patronage of a liberal public.
of all descriptions, will be done
on the shortest notice, and in the most fashion
*b,eStyle’ B. F. CRANE.
Dec. 2,-31—tf '
FOUR months after date application will be
made to the honorable Justices of the In
ferior Court of Madison county, sitting for or
dinary purposes, for leave to sell part of the real
Estate of Benjamin Smith, late of said County,
deceased.
SID AY A. SMITH, Adm’r.
Sept 8,-19 —4m
FOUR months after date, application will be
made to the Honorable Inferior Court, when I
sitting for ordinary purposes of Habersham
county, for leave to sell all the Lands and Ne
groes belonging to the Estate of Benjamin
Vaughan, late of said Countv deceased.
JNO. H. JONES, Adm’r.
jULIA VAUGHAN, Adm’rx.
July 28,-13 —m
GEORGIA CLARK COUNTY,
VMTHEREAS. Aaron Crow, Administrator of
• ’ Margaret Crow, deceased, applies for
Letters of Dismission.
This is therefore to cite, and admonish all, and
singular the kindred and creditors of said dec’d.
to be and appear at my office, within the lime.
E rescribed by law, to shew cause (if any they
ave) why said letters should not be granted.
Given under my hand, this 7th day of August,
1838.
DAVID J. FENN, d. c. c. o.
August 11—14-6 m
Agency, Augusta Ins. A Bkg.Co.
At Athens.
THE undersigned is prepared to take risks
against fire, in this place, and the adjacent ’
Towns and Villages, or in the country, at fair
rates of premium.
VVM. M. MORTON, Agent.
July 28, —13—Gm
months rfter date application will be
made to the Honorable the Inferior Court of
Lumpkin county, when sitting for ordinary pur
poses, for leave to sell all the real Estate belong
tngto the estate of Ansalem Rol. late of said
county deceased.
THOMAS W. ROL, 1 Adm’r.
MARY ROL, yAdm’x.
Sept. 8,—19—4m
NOTICE.
AT the expiration of three months, I shall
make application to the Georgia Rail Road
Ranking Company in Athens, for payment of
ithe Iflft hand halfef a fifty dollar Bill, payable to
A. 9, Linton, or Bearer No. 1040, letter A
JAMES RATCLIFF.
Clarksville, Sept 22,—21—m3m
FOUR months after date, application will be
made to the. Honorable the Inferior Court
»f Clark county, sitting for Ordinal y purposes,
for leave to sell Lots No. 68 and 69, and the
Jnd connected to said lots in the Town ol
Watkinsville, bounded by Murray, Hardin and
others, belonging to the Estate of David Ste
phens, deceased, whereon he lived at the time
ofhis death.
JOSHUA STEPHENS, ) „ ,
HARRIS STEPHENS, $ bxr ••
Oct. 13,—24— 4rq
I) cvn
.flSiscenaHeoug.
TO aIJoLD ENGLISH VILLAGE.
BY RICHARD HOWITT
What unto thee are cities vast,
Small village here, among these elms ?
The care that eats, the show that cheats,
The noise that overwhelms?
Few sounds are thine, and clearly heard :
The whimple of one only bfook —
The woodman’s axe that distant sounds—
Dog’s bay, or cawing rook.
How filled with quiet are these fields !
Far off is heard the peasant’s tread !
How clothed with peace is human life !
How tranquil seems the dead !
There Time and Nature are at strife—
The only strife that here is seen :
Whate’er decay has tinged with grey,
Has nature touched with green.
The market-cross, o'ergrown with moss,
All quaintly carved, still lingers on,
And dreams, even in this hoary place,
Os ages longer gone-
The Maypole hung with garlands sere
Thou fondly dost retain as yet,
Allgood old pastimes of this land
Unwilling to forget.
The Gothicjchurch, the manor hall,
. And cottages low roofed with stone,
With waving grass and lichens all
Are greyly overgrown.
Haunt for the meditative mind 1
Some hermit long hath near thee dwelt,
And breathed his soul forth on the air
In quiet that is felt.
I round me look some monk to see,
Some stately old monastic sane :
Nor should I start, were I to meet
The Norman or the Dane.
Here, as to all the world unknown,
A sage seclusion dost thou keep ;
And here Antiquity enjoys
A deep and mossy sleep.
Across the moors far I have sped,
Intent upon a glowing theme :
And here the first time round me look,
Awake, as in a
Thy name I know not, nor would know :
No common name would I be told :
Yet often shall I seek thee now,
Thou village quaint and old.
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
It is good on every possible occasion, for
us Americans to ponder the character of this
man. We have never seen a finer picture of
Washington’s greatness than the following.—
It appeared in the London Courier, then a
leading British Government paper,on the 24th
of Jan’y, 1800. It was at that time cut from
the paper, and has been preserved in a family
scrap-book ever since. If it has been repub
lished in more recent days we have not seen it.
but we are persuaded our readers will own,
ev, n if it has appeared since, it cannot be re
vived too frequently. We have no idea to
whom its authorship is to be ascribed :
“ The melancholy account of the death of
General Washington was brought by a vessel
from Baltimore, which arrived off Dover.—
Geu’l Washington was, ’we believe, in his
60ih year. The height of his person was
about five feet eleven ; his chest full, and his
limbs tho’ rather slender, well shaped and
muscular. His head was small, tn which res
pect he resembled the make of a great number
of his countrymen. His eye was of a light
grey color; and in proportion to the length of
his face, his nose was long. Mr. Stuart, the
eminent portrait painter, used to say, there
were features in his face totally different from
what he had observed tn that of any other hu
man being ; the sockets for the eyes for in
stance, were larger than what he ever met
with before, and the upper part of his nose
broader. All his features he obsei ved were
indicative of the strongest passions ; yet, like
Socrates, his judgment and great self-com
mand have always made him appear a man of
different cast i i the eyes of the world. He
always spoke with great diffidence, and some
times hesitated for a word, but always to find
one particularly adapted to his meaning. His
language was manly and expressive. At le
vee, his discourse with strangers turned prin
cipally upon the subjects of America ; and if
they had been through remarkable places, his
conversation was free and peculiarly interest
ing, for he was acquainted with every part of
the country. He was much more open and
free in his behavior at levee than in private,
and in the company of ladies still more so than
solelv with men.
Few persons ever found themselves for the
first time in the presence of Geu’l Washing
ton, without being impressed with a certain
degree of veneration and awe, nor did these
emotions subside on a closer acquaintance ; on
the contrary his person and deportment were
such as tended to augment th-m. The hard
service he had seen, and the important and la
borious offices he had (idled, gave a kind of
austerity to his countenance and reserve to his
manners ; yet he was tho kindest husband, the
most humane master, and steadiest friend.—
The whole range of history does trot present to
our view a character o i which we ctm dwell
with ruc’n tniite & t nmixed admiration 'The
longlife of Gen. Washington is unstained by
a single blot. He was a man of rare endow
ments, and such fortunate temperament, that
every action be pet formed was equally exempt
ed from the charge of vice or weakness.—
Whatever he said, or did, or wrote, was stamp
ed with a striking and peculiar propriety —
His qualities were so happily blended, and so
nicely harmonised, that the result was a great
and perfect whole. The powers of his mind,
and the dispositioi s of his heait were admira
bly suited to each other. It was the u ion of
the most consummate prudence with the most
perfect moderation. His views, though large
and liberal, were never extrav.iga't. His vir
tues, though comprehensive and beiiificent,
were discriminating, judicious, and practical.
Yet his character, though regular and uniform,
possessed none of the which some
times belong to those descriptions of men. It
formed a majestic pile, the effect ol which was
not impaired, but improved by order and sym
metry. There was oetbiog in it to dazzle by
Mildness and by eccei.ti icily . It was of a
higher species of moral beauty. It contain
ed everything great, and elevated, but it had no
false and tinsel ornament. It was not the
model cried up by fashion and circumstance ,
“WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” JejfersOH.
its excellence was adapted to the true and just
moral taste, incapable of change from the va
rying incident of manners, of opinions and
times.
Gen. Washington is not the idol of a day,
but the hero of ages ! Placed in circumstan
ces of the most trying difficulty at the com
mencement of the American contest, he accept
ed that situation which was pre-eminent in
danger and responsibility. His perseverance
overcame eveiy obstacle ; his moderation con
ciliated every opposition ; his genius supplied
every resource ; ins enlarged view could plan,
devise, and improve every branch of civil and
military operation. He had the superior cour
age which can act or forbear to act, as true
policy dictates, careless of the reproaches of
ignorance either in power or out of power.—
He knew how to conquer by waiting, in spite
of obloquy, for the moment of victory ; and he
merited true praise by despising undeserved
censures. In the most arduous moments of
the contest, Iris prudent firmness proved the
salvation of the cause of which he supported.
His conduct, was on all occasious, guided by
the most pure disinterestedness. Far superi
or to low and groveling motives, he seemed
even to be influenced by that ambition which
has justly been called the instinct of great
souls. He acted ever as if his country’s wel
fare, and that alone was the moving spirit.—
His excellent mind needed not even thestirnu
lus of ambition, or the prospect of fame. Glo
ry was a secondary consideration. He per.
formed great actions; he persevered in a
course of laborious utility, with an equanimity
that neither sought distinction, nor was flatter
ed by it. His regard was in the consciousness
of hs own rectitude, and the success of his pat
riotic efforts.
As his elevation to the chief power was the
unbiased choice of his countrymen, his exer
cise of it was agreeable to the purity of its
origin. As he neither solicited nor usurped
dominion, he had neither to contend with the
opposition of rivals, nor the revenge of ene
mies. As his authority was undisputed, so it
required no jealous precautions, no rigorous
severity. His government was mild and gen
tle ; it was beneficent and liberal ; it was
wise and ju«t. His prudent administration
consolidated and enlarged the dominion of an
infant republic. In voluntarily resigning the
magistracy which he had filled with such dis
tinguished honor, he enjoyed the unequalled
satisfaction of leaving to the State he had con
tributed to establish, the fruits of his wisdom
and the example of his virtues. It is some
consolation, amidst the violence of ambition
and the criminal thirst of power, which so ma.
ny instances occur around us, to find a char
acter whom it is honorable to admire and vir
tuous to imitate. A conqueror, for the free
dom of his country ! a legislator, for its secu
rity ! magistrate for its happiness! His glo
ries were never sullied by those excesses into
which the highest qualities are apt to degen
erate. With the greatest virtues, he was ex
empt from the corresponding vices. He was
a man in whom the elements were mixed that
‘ Nature might have stood up to all the world
and owned him as her work.’ His fame boun
ded by no country, will be confided, to no age.
The character of Gen. Washington, which
his contemporaries regard and admire, will be
transmitted to posterity ; and the memory of
his virtues, while patriotism and virtue are
held sacred among men, will remain undimin
ished.”
From the Richmond Whig.
IDLE RUMINATIONS.
An English traveller speaking of the monu.
met ts of Athenian taste arid glory which still
survive in the Temple of Theseus. Jupiter,
Olympus, and the Parthenon, observes :
“ Often w hen gazing upon these noble
wrecks of a chasteness and purity of architec
ture which will never be surpassed, and prob
ably never again be equalled, have I asked my
self, What if Britain was to fall from her pin
ttacle of greatness, and her sous be debased
by a political servitude such as that which has
so long debased the energies of the Greeks I
What would be left tn after years to tell of her
former magnificence, or to associate itself with
the memory of her illustrious tnen ?
‘•ln no country in the world do there exist
more depraved tastes and habits than in Eng
land. In no country is money more foolish
ly spent and squandered away in trifles.”
'Fhe same question might be asked of our
own country, which to an equal, or even great
er degree than England, is amenable to criti
cism for its eager pursuit of trifles, and dissipa
tion of money upon ephemeral objects.
This has been called the “ utilitarian” age,
because no enterprise either of a public or
private character is undertaken except with
reference singly to the amount of profit it will
probably yield. The passton fcr making mon
ey is universal, and absorbs all others, except
perhaps the passion for consuming it on ob
jects of petty vanity or selfish indulgence. A
true public spirit, a thirst for national immor
tality are scarcely known. Men trade on
through life, heap penny upon penny, with no
higher ambition, when all their w ishes tire
giatified than to live tn a brick house, which
in the course of nature will not endure more
than a century, have a fine coach and horses
and give splendid parties. If the proposition
were made to them to contribute a few stivers
to the erection of a proud temple to the Gods,
to ge down to posterity along with the Pyra
mids of Egypt and the Tttrples of Greece,
thev would hoot at the idea and ask “ what’s
the use?” While the same men would freely
lavish hundreds upon dinners and parties, and
think they were thereby carving out an im
mortality. The truth is, w ith all our money
making propensities, we squander a hundred
fold more annually on trifles, than did the
Greeks in constructing the stupendous edifices
which still command the admiration of the
world, and attest their refinemetit, their patri
otism. and their piety.
We are a proud, boastful, and, to some ex
tent, a vain-glorious People. We flatter our
selves that we are greater than all who have
gone before,or will come after us. With our
parchment Constitution s, which any tyrant can
abrogate at will, our steamboats and railroads,
we fondly imagine wc have done enough for
glory, and without a scruple, we surrender
ourselves to avarice and the gratification of
our selfish desires. If we were reduced to
the present condition of Greece, we would
leave no memento of our existence, or at least
none to tell that wc possessed tastes much ele
voted above brutes. Our literature cannot be
compared to theirs—our steamboats scarce
off-set their architecture, and our improvement
in the science of Government (w ritten Consti
tutions and all.) can furnish nothing to surpass,
if it can anything to equal, that most beauti
ful feature of the Athenian Constitution'—the
ATHEAS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1838.
ostracism—the banishment of the most popu
lar and powerful individuals, whose continu
ance in the State endangered the stability ot
the Republic. That was a profoundly wise
device, whatever the re.ilers of Democratic
institutions may assert. It had the same ef
fect upon the Republic that a safety valve does
upon a steam engine, and so long as it was
adhered to, preserved the liberties of the Peo
ple.
But our habitudes—our ways of thinking
and acting, cannot be materially changed.—
We can never he brought (either by the pleas
ure or refinement of looking at them, or the
thirst for posthumous glory,) to erect marble
temples to the Gods, or mausoleums to men.
We will make money and spend it. Those
will continue the chief objects of our existence.
The modes of attaining them may vary, but
they will abide forever uppermost in our hearts.
No lave for a mere abstraction, such as a great
name with posterity, can heave them from their
deep foundations. We are matter-of-fact men,
•‘utilitarians,” and think of posthumous fame
as did Lord Byron :
A certain portion of uncertain paper.
Some liken it to climbing up a hill,
Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour;
For this men write, speak, preach, and her'oes kill,
And bards burn what they call their midnight taper,
To gain, when the original is dust,
A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.”
THE TURK ANt) THE ENGLISHMAN.
A Mr. Urquhart, who has travelled extensive
ly and resided for many years in Eastern coun
tries, has lately published a b»ok of his ad.
ventures and observations, in which we find
the subjoined curious antithetical portraiture
of Turks and Englishmen.
“ Europeans commemorate the laying of the
foundation stone: Turks celebrate the cover
ing in of the toof. Among the Turks, a beard
is the mark of dignity ; with us, efnegligence.
Shaving the head is, with them, a custom;
with us a punishment. We take ofl'our gloves
before our sovereign; they cover their hands
with their sleeves. We enter an apartment
with our head uncovered ; they enter an apart
ment with the feet uncovered. With them the
men have their necks and their arms naked;
with us, the women have theii arms and necks
naked. With us the women parade in gay
colors, the men in sombre; with them, in both
cases, it is the reverse. With us, the men ogle
the women; in Turkey, tho women ogle the
men. With us, the lady looks shy and bashful;
tn Turkey it is the gentleman. In Europe, a
lady cannot visit a gentleman ; in Turkey, she
can. In Turkey, a j?entleman cannot visit a
lady ; in Europe, he can. There the ladies
always wear trowsers, and the gentlemen
sometimes wear petticoats. With us, the red
cap is the symbol of license; with them, it is
the hat. In our rooms the roof is white and
the wall is colored; with them, the wall is
white and the roof colored.
In Turkey, there are gradations of social
rank without privileges; in England, there
are privileges without corresponding social
distinction. With us, social forms and eti
quette supersede domestic ties ; with them, the
etiquette of relationship supersedes that of so
ciety. With us. the schoolmaster appeals to
the authority of the parent; with them, the
parent has to appeal to the superior authority
and responsibility ot the schoolmaster. With
us. a student is punished by being “ confined
to chapel;” with them, a scholar is punished
by being excluded from the mosque. Their
children have the manners es men ; our men
the manners of children. Among us, masters
require characters with their servants; in
Turkey, servants inquire into the characters of
masters. We consider dancing a polite re
creation; they consider it a disgraceful avo
cation.
In Turkey, religion restrains the imposition
of political taxes; in England, the government
imposes taxes for religion. In England, the
religion of the State exacts contribution from
sectarians; in Turkey, the religion of the
State protects the property of sectarians against
government taxes. An Englishman will be
astonished at what he calls the absence of pub
lic credit in Turkey ; the 'Turk will be amaz
ed at our national debt. The first will despise
thel ’urks for having no organization to facili- I
tate exchange; the Turk will be astounded to
perceive, in England, laws to impede the cir
culation of commerce. The Turk will wonder
how government can be carried on divided
opinions ; the Englishman will not believe that
without opposition, independence can exist.
In Turkey, commotion may exist without dis
affection ; in England, disaffection exists with
out commotion. A European in Turkey, will
consider the administration ofjuslice defective;
a Turk, in Europe, will consider the principles
of law unjust. The first Would esteem pro
perty, in Turkey, insecure against violence ;
the second would consider property in Eng
land, insecure against law. Tue first would
marvel how, without lawyers, law can be ad
ministered ; the second would .marvel how,
with lawyers, justice can ba obtained. The
first would be staitled at the want of a check
u; on the central government; the second would
be amazed at the absence of control over the
local administration. We cannot conceive
immutability in the principles of the State,
compatible with well-being; they cannot con
ceive that what is good and just is capable of
change.
The Englishman will esteem the Turk un
happy because he has no public amusements;
the Turk will reckon the man miserable who
lacks amusements at home. The Englishman
will look on the Turk as destitute of taste, be
cause he has no pictures; the Turk will con
sider the Englishman destitute of feeling, from
his disregard to nature. The Turk will be
horrified at prostitution and bastardy; the
Englishman at polygamy. The first will be
disgusted at our haughty treatment of our infe
riors ; the second will revolt at the purchase
of slaves. They will reciprocally call each
other fanatic in religion—dissolute in morals
—uncleanly in habits—unhappy in the devc
lopement of their sympathies and their tastes—
destitute sevetally of political freedom—each
will consider the other unfit for good society.
The European will term the 'Turk pompous
and sullen ; the Turk will call the European
flippant and vulgar. It may therefore be im
agined how interesting, friendly, and harmo
nious must be tho intercourse between the
two.”
Curious typographical error.— The celebra
ted printer, Henri Ettiene, son of Robert, (both
known in the learned world by the name of
Stephanus) was once engaged in the printing
of n splendid quarto Missal. The great num
ber of subscribers seemed likely to make am
ple compensation fur the heavy expense re-
quired by the undertaking. After the sheets
had been corrected with the utmost care, the
work was printed off, splendidly bound, and
delivered to the subscribers. It would he im
possible to describe the astonishment of the
learned printer, when one copy after another
was returned to him, till all were sent back. —
He inquired the reason of this extraordinary
circumstance, and was informed that in one
place the compositor had put lea le petre clera
sa cullotte, (here the priest will take off his
breeches) instead of caUotte, (small black cap)
and the error escaped the correctors of the
press. In vain did • the poor printer offer to
to make a cancel ; the subscribers, who were
almost all acclesiastics, positively refused to
take the work on any terms. This unfortu
nate affair is said to have been the first and
chief cause of the derangement w hich after
ward caused Henri Ettiene to he confined in
the lunatic hospital at Lyons, where ho died
in 1693. There is a copy of the Missal with
this unlucky error, tn the royal library at Paris.
THE DYING ARCHER.
The day has near ended, the light quivers through
The leaves ofthe forest, which bend with the dew,
The flowers bow in beauty, the smooth-flowing stream,
Is gliding as softly as thoughts in a dream ;
The low room is darkened, there breathes not a sound,
While friends in their sadness are gathering round ;
Now out speaks the Archer, his course well nigh done.
• Throw, throw back tl:6 lattice, andjlet in the sun !’
The lattice is opened; aud now the blue sky
Brings joy to his bosom, and fire to his eye !
There stretches thegreenwood, where, year after year,
He chased the wild roe buck and followed the deer.
He gazed upon mountain, and forest, and dell,
Then bowed he, in sorrow, a silent farewell,
‘And when jve are parted, and when thou art dead,
Oh where shall we lay thee V his followers said.
Then up rose the Archer, and gazed once again
On far-reaching mountain, and river, and plain;
‘ Now bring me my quiver and tighten my bow,
And let the winged arrow my sepulchre show!’
Out, out through the lattice, the arrow has passed,
And in the far forest has lighted at last,
And there shall the hunter in slumber be laid,
Where wild deer are bounding beneath the green shade
His last words are finished ; his spirit has fled,
And now lies in silence the form of the dead ;
Thelamps in the chamber are flickering dim,
And sadly the mourners are chanting their hymn ;
And now to the greenwood, and now on the sod,
Where lighted the arrow, the mourners have trod ;
And thus by the river, where dark forests wave
That noble old Archerhath found him* grave!
Cambridge, Sept. 1838. R. C. W.
A SHERIFF’S REMINISCENCES,
BY M. M. NOAH.
If goal limits are necessary ( they should be
co-extensive with the city, for the object of
such confinement is only to be secure of your
debtor when you want him ; and it is the same
whether he is limited to a few streets, or has
the freedom of the whole city. On this sub
ject I speak by book. When sheriff of this
city, the limits were only one hundred and fifty
acres. Houses on the limits commanded a
higher rent for those who could pay, and for
those who could not pav their sufferings were
intolerable. To mechanics it was peculiarly
distressing ; and the whole system worked bad
for debtor and creditor Enticitr persons off
the limits confined for heavy sums and with
good bail, was an organized system. Watch
es were specially employed, and large sums
promised if they could find the debtor off his
guard and over the lines, or could decoy him
in any manner from the bounds. 1 have known
women engaged to stop a debtor and interest
him in her story by a modest address, a tale of
woe, and lead him, step by step, until uncon
sciously he had passed the fatal boundary in
««ight of the scout who lodged information
against him. Again, all the arts of beauty
and fascination were employed, and bountiful
ly paid for, to lure the debtor beyond the line,
and thus entrap him. Girls have pretended
to fall into fits on one side of the pavement,
that the unfortunate debtor’s humanity might
be aroused, and to cross from the other side
to aid them. In short, the abuses were so nti
merous and the benefits so doubtful by this
one hundred and fifty acre limit system, that
I went to work to make this manifest to the
Legislature, and they made the whole city the
limits. Some droll occurrences took place,
however, under this system. The greatest
portion of this unfortunate class were debtors
under twenty dollars, and principally poor per
sons, and among my particular and valued
political friends, the Irish. 1 made it a point
never to lock them up if they could procure
any animal in shape of bail, for I was sure
to have the wife and a half dozen children
petitioning for a release, and many a twenty
dollars, debt and costs, I have had to pay for
them in consequence of the debtor, and the
bail, and the wife, and the children, and the
pigs, all running away at the same time.—
But they were all fond of me—it was “long
life to your honor,” “the blessings of St. Pat
rick be upon you ;” but lheywere sure never
to vote for me when I was a candidate—they
could not bring it over their conscience ! the
Villains, with all their attachment to me, which
was very sincere and unaffected- One plan
they devised in giving bail ; which was very
amusing, and they thought I was not up to it.
They had a Cannought man amongst them—
hod man, a tall, handsome, fellow, full of fun
and impudence —whenever they wanted secu
rity they would dress him up in a neat black
coat and ruffled shirt, give him a go’d watch, a
cane, and a pair of glov< s, and thus distin
guished he would strut into the ffice with the
air of an Aiderman. “1 come to bail Ter
rence O’Flynn. Sir.' 1 “ What is the amount
“Only twenty dollars, Sir—a trifle, your hon
or; but we must not let our countrymen suf
fer, you know.” So saying he would puli’
out the gold watch, which he would look at
long enough for all the deputies in the office
to see the article ; adjust his ruffles, take a
pinch out of old Hays’ snuffbox, sign the
bond, and strut out. This fellow was bail for
the whole Five Points, which was in the lim
its, and as often as I saw him clanking his iron
heeled boots over the marble pavement of the
City Hall, twirling his cane, and imitating,
and very cleverly too,the airofaman of wealth
and importance, I used to say to him, “Well,
Rory, who are you going to bail now 7 ”
I lost a great deal by him of course in small
sums, but he made a trifle occasionally by the
“ experiment” and his friends always made a
point of stripping him of his “ borrowed robes”
the moment he came off duty ; atid I have
seen him one hour after singing a bail bond,
on the top of a ladder, with a hod full of brick,
I a chip hat, without a rim, and terribly rent
; in the rear of his corduioys.
I was glad that the whole limit system was
abandoned—it was painful to all parties,and did
good to none. One day 1 threw open the jail
tor inspection. I had cleared out ail the debt
ors, some by compromise, some by bail, and a
very few by consent of creditors—it was she
old Provost during the revolutionary war—a
terrible looking place, now transformed into
the beautiful Hall of Records ; butasthedev
il wotild have it before night, an officer brought
in a wild young Frenchman, arrested for a
small sum. His mother, well known and re
spected in the city, called at my house, full of
grief and politeness, and smiling through her
tears, having by the hand a handsome, modest
looking girl, scarcely sixteen. “Ah mon cher
Monsieur Scheriff, you ave locked up my son
in de prison—here is his beautiful wife—will
you let her sleep byherselfall alone to night ?”
There was no resisting such a pathetic appeal,
and the wife carried the release to jail, and
old Mr. Roome let him out to roam about, and
be again cought by Baron Nabem. The re
sult of abolishing imprisonment for debt, makes
men more cautious in giving credit, and those
who have credit, more careful in guarding it.
New-York Star.
The dancing master abroad. — I wish that
are black heifer in the kitchen would give
over singing that are everlasting tune, said the
Clock naker, it makes my heart ache. You’ve
heard a song afore now, hav’u’t you, till you
was fairly sick of it ? for I have, I vow. The
last time I was in Rhode Island, (all the gals
sing there, and it’s generally allowed there’s
no such singers anywhere ; they beat the Eye
talians a long chalk ; they sing so high, some
on ’em, they go clear out o’ bearin’ sometimes,
like a lark) —well, vou heerd i othin* bnt“ Oh,
no, we never mention her ;” well, I grew so
plaguy tired of it, 1 used to say to myself, I’d
sooner see it than heer tell of it, I vow. I
wish to giacious you wotfid “never mention
her,” for it makes me feel ugly to heer the
same thing for ever and amen that way.
Well, they’ve got a cant phrase here, “the
schoolmaster is abroad,” and every feller tells
you that fifty times a day. There was a chap
said to me not long ago at Truro : Mr. Slick,
this country is rapidly improving ; “ the school
master is abroad” now ; and he looked as
though he had found a mare’s nest. So I
should think, says 1, and it would jist be about
as well, I guess, if he’d stay at home and mind
his business, for your folks are so consoomed.
ly ignorant I reckon he’s abroad neer almost
all his time. 1 hope when he returns he’ll be
the better of his travels, and that’s more nor
many of our young folks are who go “ abroad,”
for they import more airs and nonsense than
they can dispose of in one while, I tell you ;
some of the stock remains on hand all the rest
of their lives. There’s nothing I hate so much
as cant, of all kinds; its’s a sure sign of a
tricky disposition. If you see a feller cant in
religion, clap your hand into your pocket and
lay right hold of your pus, or he’ll steal it as
sure as you’re alive; and if a man cant in pol
itics, he’ll sell you if he gets a chance, you
may depend. Law and physic are jist the
same, and every mite and morsel as bad. If
a lawyer takes to cantin,’ it’s like the fox
preachin’ to the geese : he'll ent up the whole
congregation ; and if a doctor takes to it, he’s
a quack as sure as rats. The Lord have mat
ey on you, for he won’t. I’d sooner trust my
chance with a naked hook any time than one
that’s half covered with bad bait. The fish
will sometimes swallow the one without think
in,' but they get frightened at t’other, turn tail, 1
and off like a shot.— Sam Slick.
Canova and Napoleon.— Canova was ad
mitted to the familiarity of Napoleon ; he was
very often at Malmaison with him and the
empress Josephine. The warrior jested with
the artist. “ You make conquests on marble,”
said he; “they are harder than mine.”—
“ And perhaps more durable,” answered Can
ova ; and he advisee! him to repose upon his
trophies, to enjoy his power, and not to put a
destiny to the proof which had been so many
times fixed by victory. The emperor laughed
at the sculptor’s fears, and answered, “I en
gage in new battles as you make new statues.”
“ The case is very different,” replied Canova :
“an artist ought never to stop in the career of
fine arts. He ought to march from conquest
to conquest.- mediocrity alone thinks it has
obtained its object. But a thousand dangers
accompany the warrior in the road of ambi
tion. Recollect Julius Caesar, and a number i
of others.’’ “ You think, then, the ides of
Marchare to be dreaded on my account?”
“ Your death is less to be apprehended than a
defeat.” “ I do not fear either,” replied Na
poleon ; “ both of them would find me as firm
as your statues.” After Napoleon had mar
ried Maria Louisa, ho appeared disappointed |
that Canova had not complimented him on the
occasion. “ Ought I to congratulate you,”
said the latter, “ for having divorced fortune t”
Indian Eloquence. — A writer in New-York
Mirror, gives this lament of an Indian War
rior ot the Yamasee tribe over the graves of
his fatheis, and the recollections aud affections
of his youth. It is the “ majesty of grief with
out its weakness.”
“They are gone —all gone—the morning
finds them not; the night covers them. Mv
feet have no companion in the chase ; the hoi
low rocks gives me back only their echoes.—
Whashattee! where art thou? On the fur
hills—thou hast found the valley of joy, and
the plum groves that are forever in bloom.—
Who shall find thy bones, my brother, who
take eff thy spoils? Thou art all untended in
the valley of joy, and the ghosts of the slain
bend about thee with many frowns. Where
is the m lid of thy bosom? Comes she with
the smoking venison ! does she dress thy food
at the board, where the hunter sits down at
evening I Thou art lain in the morning,
Whashattee, and thy sun forgot to rise. I sing
for thee the hymn of death—thy war song for
many victories. Thou wert mighty in the
chase—the high hill did not overcome thee.—
Thv bovhood was like the manhood of other
men; thou dids’t net sleep in thy childhood.
Well did they nam<- thee young panther—the
might and the eye of the young panther's moth
er was thine. Sickness fled from thee af
frighted, and thou laughed tn scorn at the
black drinks of Eucto. Ihe strong tide when
thou swam bore thee not with it; thou dids t
put it aside as an infant. I hou wert ale g
arrow in tho chase, as thy flight win on the
strong winds. Who shall mate thee, my broth
er? What chieftain stood up like Whashat
tee? and the day of thv glorv is gone; oh.
Huspah ! the father of many kings. Yatnas
see, where wert thou sleeping when thy name
and thv nation expired? Whim tho belt was
burned thou dtds’t weave them, aud the temple
Vol. VI—Ao 2« .
of thy spirit overthrown ! Hospah, thv day
’ has go' e by in darkness, and the strong night
I is over thee. Carist thou wake up the brave
who art sleeping ? Canst thou undo the eye
which is scaled up, and kindle the sharp light
that is had therein ? What shall restore thee,
Yamassee; and where shallthe brave men «f
Huspuh now find their abode! The wild
grass has taken root in their dwelling place;
and the hill fox burrows under the hearth of
the hunter. The spirit has uo place in the
wigwams of the fathers ; silence has made k
house of their ruins, and lives lonely among
them. O, spirit of many ages, thou art van
ished ! Thy voice is sunk in an echo, and
thy name is whispered on the hill tops. Thy
glories are the graves of many enemies: thy
own grave is unknown. Thou art scattered
to the abroad winds, and hast fallen upon the
waters. They have carried thee down with
them away, and the hunters of the hill find
thee net. A curse is gone forth upon thee and
thou art smitten with death 1”
Enchanted Mountains.— The following ac
count of a natural curiosity is from the Tex
as Telegraph :
This singular mountain or hill is situated on
the head waters ofthe Saucy—a small tribd£s
fary of the Colorado, about 80 miles from
Bastrop, in a north-westerly direction. It is"
about three hundred feet high, and appeals to
be an enormous oval rock partly imbedded in
the earth. When the sun shines the light is
reflected from its polished surface as from an
immense mirror, and the whole mountain glows
with such a dazzling radiance, that the be
holder who views it even from the distance of
four or five miles, is unable to gaze upon it
without experiencing a painful sensation, sim
ilar to that which is felt when looking upon
the rising sun. The ascent of this hill is so
very gradual, that persons can easily walk up
to the top ; but ihe rock is so smooth and slip.,
pery, that those who make the attempt are
compelled to wear moccasins or stockings in
stead of shoes. This act, together with the
name of the place, Holy Mountain, remind the
visitant very forcibly of the command made to
Moses at Mount Horeb. ‘ Put off thy shoes
from off thy feet,’ &e. Tho Cumanches re
gard this hill with religious veneration, and
Indian pilgrims frequently assemble from the
remotest borders ot this tribe to perforin their
Payiiim rites upon its summit.
Eloquence of the Earl of Chatham.— All
accounts, however, concur in representing the
effects of his eloquence to have been prodi
gious. The spirit and vehemence which am
limited its greater passages, their perfect ap.
plication to the subject matter of debate, tho
appositeness of his invective to the individual
assailed, the boldness of the feats which he
ventured upon, the grandeur of the ideas which
he unfolded, the heart-stirring nature of his
appeals, are all confessed by the united testi
mony of all his contemporaries ; and the frag,
inente which remain bear out to a considera
ble extent such representations; nor are we
like y to be misled by those frag neats, ter
the more striking persons were certainly the
ones least likely to be either forgotten or fab.
ricated. To these mighty attractions was ad
ded the imposing, the animilmg, the com
manding power of the countenance si gularly
expressive ; an eye so piercing that hardly any
one eould stand its glare ; and a manner alto
gether singularly striking, original, and char
acteristic. notwithstanding a peculiarly defec
tive and even awkward action. Latterly, in
deed, his infirmities precluded all action ; and
he is oescribed as standing in the Hoose of
Lords, leaning upon his crutch, and speaking
for ten minutes together in an under-tone of
voice scarcely au lible, but raising his notes
to their full pitch when he broke out tnto one
of his grand bursts of invective or exclamation.
But, tit his earlier time, his whole manner is
represented as having been, beyond concep
tion, animated and imposing. Indeed, the
things which he affected by it pricipnlly, or
or at least have made it possibls to attempt,
almost exceeded belief. Some of these sallies
are, indeed, examples of that approach made
to the ludicrous by the sublime, which has been
charged upon him as a prevailing fault, and
represented under the name Charlatanerie— a
fivoute phrase #itb bis adversaries, ns in la.
ter times has been with the ignorant undervaL
tiers ot Lord Erskine. It is related, that once
in the House of Commons he began a Speech
with the words, ‘ Sugar, Mr. Speaker”—and
then, observing a smile to prevail in the audi
ence ; he paused, looked fiercely round, and,
with a loud voice, rising, in its notes and swell,
iog into vehement anger, he is said to have
pronounced again the word “ Sugar!” three
limes, and having thas quelled the house, and
extinguished every appearance of levity
laughter, turned round and disdainfully
“v ho will laugh at sugar now ?” We have
this anecdote upon good traditional authority «
that it was believed by those who had the best
means of knowing Lord Chatham, is certain;
and this, es itself, shows their sense of the ex
traordinary powers of his manner, and ths
reach of his audacity in trusting to those pow.
ers.— Edinburgh Review.
Drunkenness.— Take especial care that yotl
delight not in wine, for there never was any
man that came to honor or preferemeut that
loved it ; tor it traiis-forineth a man into a
beast,decayeth health,and poisoneth the breath,
destroyeth natural heat, bringeth mau’i stom
ach au urtiScial burning, defenneth the face*
rotteth the teeth, and, to conclude, maketh a
man contemptible, seon old, and despised «f
all worthy men, hated in thy servants, in thy
self and companions ; aud remember my words,
that it were better for a mini to be subject to
any vice, than to it; for ail other vanities arid
sins are recovered, but a drunkard will never
shake off the delight beastliness; for the longer
it posse.,seth a man the more he will delight in
it; for it dulleth the spirits, and deciroyeth
the body, .is ivy doetb the old tree, ot as the
worm, that eiigendereth iu tbe kernel ts the
nut.
Take heed therefore, that such a careless
canker pass not thy youth, nor such a beastly
infection thy old age, or then shall thy life be
but as the life of a beast, and after thy death
thou shall only leave a shameful infamy to tby
posterity, who shall study to forget that such
an one was their father. Anachars's saith,
the first draught servith for health, the second
for pleasure, the third for shame, the fourth for
madness ; but in youth there is not much us
one draught permitted, for it putteth fire to fire,
and wasteth the natural heat- And therefore,
except thou desire to hasten thine end, take
this for a general rule, that thou never add
any artificial heat o thy hody, by wine or
spice, until thou find that time has decayed
thy natural heat, aad the sooner tbou