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BY JOES W. JONES. The Southern Whig, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING. teb«s. Three dollars per annum, payable within six months after the receipt of the fit st number, or four dollars if not paid within the year. Sub scribers living out of the State, will be expect ed in all cases, to pay in advance. ?<o subscription received for less than one year, unless the money is paid in advance; and no paper will be discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, except at the option of the pub lisher. Persons requesting a discontinuance, of their Papers, are requested to bear in mind, a settement of their accounts. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered out. .fry- All Letters to the Editor or Proprietor, on matters connected with the establishment, must be post paid in order to secure attention Notice of the sale of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sale of personal Property, in like manner, must be published forty d ays previous to the day es sale. Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that Application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for Leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published four months. Notice that Application will be made for Letters of administration, must be published thirty days and Letters of Dismission, six months. For Advertising—-Letters of Citation. 5? 2 /5 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, (40 days) 325 Four Months Notices, 4 00 Sales of Personal Property by Executors, Administrators, or Guardians, 3 25 Sales ofLand or Negroes by do. 4 75 Application for Letters of Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cents for every thirteen line« , .'* f small type, (or space iwm. j,. nt.) tu; n ’ 50 cents for each weekly cOra^^^Lg3®^ubjji s hed every other week, 62 time a single *-•_ *. , * - uieuSsW’.. f xed upon -» . inowiNroTO > any pattern that may be desired —FOR CASH CLARK & Bur Dine. 30, 1838—9—ts tSSE’w 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. W are, in this place, mar the State Bank, where he will be hap py 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 be first rate; and he hopes, by his assiduous efforts to please, to receive a share of the patronage of a liberal public. Cutting of all descriptions, will be done on the shortest notice, and in the most fashion able style. J B. F. CRANE. Dec. 2,-31—tf Administrator’s Sale. AGREEABLE to an order of the Honorable the Inferior Court of Madison county, when sitting for ordinary purposes, will be sold on the first Tuesday in January next, at the Court House in Union county, Lot No. 178, in the 17th District and Ist Section, originally Cherokee, now Union county. JOHN B. ADAIR, Adm’r. Sept- 22,—21— tds ______ Administrator’s Sale. AGREEABLY to an order of the Inferior Court of Habersham county while sitting for ordinary purposes, will be sold before the Co.rt House door in Clarksville, on the first Tuesday in February next, one tract of Land, ltdioining the Town ’of Clarksville, containing one hundred and fifty Acres, more or less, to- ( getherwith four Negroes, one man, one woman and two children, belonging to the estate of Benjamin Vaughan, late of said county, deceas- i ed. Sold for the benefit, of the heirs and credi tors. JN’O. H. JONES, ) Adm’r. JULIA VAUGHAN, ) Adm’x. Nov. 24,—30—tds Salo. AGREEABLE to an order ofthe Honorable, the Inferior Court of Hall county, when fitting for ordinary purposes, will be sold on the first Tuesday in’Tebruary next, at the Court House in Lee county, the one undivided half of Lot No. one hundred and nineteen, (119) in the second district ofLce county, belonging to the Estate of Alilly Woodliff, late of Hall county, .deceased, Terms on the day of sale. JAMES LAW, ) , GEORGE WOODLIFF, ( 71clinr s ’ December 1, —31—tds .Administrator's Sale. 'VST'ILLbe sold at the Court House in Pulas v V ki county, on the first Tuesday in Febru. tnry next, between the usual hours of sale, agree table to an order of the Honorable the Inferior 'Court of Madison county, while sitting as a Court of Ordinary, one lit of Land, belonging to Uh. Estate of Benjamin Borum, deceased, con taining two hundred two and a-lralf Acres, more 'or less, and known anddistinguished by No. 113, ■one hundred and thirteen in the 12th, twelfth district of originally Houston, now Pulaski ■eounty. Sold for the benefit of the heirs and ■creditors ot said deceased. Terms on the day of sale. JAMES LONG, ) . , , F • ELD HA WARE, J Adin re> December I—3l—tds , HCTXOB. I AT the expiration of three months, 1 shall I makeapplication to the Georgia Rail Road i 7 ■&, Banking Company in Athens, for payment of the left hand halfef a fifty dollar Bill, payable, to A B. Linton, or Bearer No. 1040, fitter A JAMES RtVI'CLIFF. t Clarksville, Sept 22,-21 —ni3m FOUR months after date, application will be made to the honorable the Interior Court «f Jackson county, when sitting as a Court of Ordinary, for leave to sell the real estate of the minor children of Josiah Watson. JOSIAH WATSON, Guardian. October 6’ 23 mint Southern Whig. iWsce Han ecus. From the Louisville Journal. CHILDE HAROLD.-By Wm. Wallach. God of the gloomy lyre ! Prince of the gloomy song ! What shapes of passion, love, and fire, At thy bright bidding throng ! How like a ship whose banner’d form Sweeps boldly on through cloud and storm, Whilst sail and spar and tow’ring mast Are quivering in the thunder blast, Did’st thou, o’er Life’s tempestuous tide, Unscathed by Envy’s lightning, ride. Bard of the Sea ! at whose command Within the Ocean, broad and blue, Like- a vast mirror from His hand, The brow of God itself we view ;— * Not the great compass that was sentt To circumscribe Creation’s bound, When the “ I am” o’ei Chaos went, And swung its golden point around Had then a wider, bolder sweep Along the vast and primal deep, Than thy proud Soul’s, whose lightning race Encircled universal space. As some broad canvass fiercely dashed With Passion’s flame surrounded form, (Whilst round her burning brows are flash’d The twisted lightnings of the storm) Reveals in deep and stern relief The wild, majestic shapes of gri.f, So do thy pages give to view Great Nature in her saddest hue— Assembles in their golden chain The forms of woe and love and pain; And grasps with a collossal hand The dark, immortal, aud the grand. Lo ! Harold rousing from his sleep, Bends o’er the dark-blue Sea his flight, Sweeps with the storm along the deep, And bade his native land “ Good night!” Mark ! mark around his gloomy soul The blazing tides of Passion roll, As o’er the Cities of the Dead We hear his melancholy tread; And yet amid the tones that start In thunder from his fiery heart. How often o’er the harp, resound The rainbow-thought—the silver sound, Despite the general gloom ; So round the vast and awful mouth Os the Volcano of the South Tire- sweetest flowers bloom— in its depths our eyes behold C was £*«housand waves of lava roll’d biots tOoljjTg tlwig-df profound ; When every wild tremendous shock Reveals each darkly-shuddering rock, In wreaths of lightning crown’d! Islands now that thickly gem Ocean’s purple Diadem —t Temples shattered —altars broke By the Battle’s sabre stroke, — Mosques around with crescents gleaming— Armies in the combat beaming— Sacred hill and snow-wrapt mountain Parent of the silvery fountain - Rolling in the noon-day glare With its rainbows in the air,— When the Eagle spreads his pinion In the everlasting dome, And uncheck’d in his dominion Dares the tempest in his home — AH appearing—deathless shine, In the glorious Poet's line ! Great Bard! what though thy mouldering bones, Unmarked by sculpture’s trophied stones, Repose not where§ Brittania sees Her mighty Dead in pomp recline, Thy hallowed name when told with these, Shall not with fainterglory shine, Italia sadly breathes of Thee, And Scio with her coral Sea ; Immortal Greece hath caught the tone ; The Alps repeatit on their throne; And as the mother in her pride, Beholds her lov’d one by her side, Or fondly holds hint on her knee, Her song at eve shall be of Tints; — Os Thee, whose valor cheer’d the gloom Which hung around old Homek’s tomb —1! Ay ! even in my own green clime, Thy mem’ry freshly, firmly dwells, And hourly here thy Song sublime, From many a brave heart fervent swells. * Thou glorious mirror, when the Alniightiys form, glasses itself in tempests. Bvkon. + See Paradiso Lost, t See Bride of Abydos. i Both his remains and statue are excluded from Westminster Abbey. II It wilt be remembered that Byron’s last moments were given to Greece. From the New York Mirror. AUTHORS AND AUTHORLINGS. BY WILLIAM COX. “’Tis strange, the shortest letter that man uses Instead of speech, may forma lasting link Os ages ; to what straits old Time reduces Frail man, when paner —even a rag like this— Survives himself, his tomb, and all that’s his ! And when his bones are dust, his grave a blank, His station, generation, even his nation, Become a thing, or nothing, save to rank In chronological commemoration; Some dull MS. oblivion long hadsank, Or graven stone found in a barrack’s station In digging the foundation of a closet May turn his name up as a rare deposit!”— Byron. An autlwr is a strange animal; a vender of words; a retailer of ideas ; a trafficker in sen timents and sensation ; a dealer in sense and nonsense —in wit and wisdom, or the substitute therefor. Ho commences business w ith less capital than any other matt, and his returns are pretty much w hat might have been ex pected from his capital, lie is the must idle, iiidoleut-looliing person in creation, yet no slaves works harder, or gets less credit for his labor. But his industry is not perceptible ; ) his stock in trade makes no show in the eyes oflhe world. The merchant has his ware- I houses, his bales, and his ships the farmer i Iris fields, and Iris barns, his horses, hts cattle, ami his corn —I he mwreer iris silks, his ribanus, Iris laces;—the tail >r Iris siipeifim; and various colored broadcloths; —the barber, even, his | blooming wax imitations ot Immunity, and ins ■ blocks covered w ith locks curled in the most 'I approved fashion—and all are lyu-sily and vi.-.i- J bls' employed i:i (he management ol their va j ri-rns materials. But the poor author has not imvttrin'' wherewith to tn.ike an outward os toulalioits display. No waiehouscs, oi lii-n-is, or ships lias he.—(ihougli he somclunis lakes ■**!& “WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.” JeJjerSOU. the liberty of sinking a vessel or two, and drowning the sailors, when it suits him to be pathetic or sublime) —-no fields, or corn or cattle—no silks, or other goods—very little broadcloth and no blocks save the one he car ries on his own proper shoulders. His head is his workshop, and the generality of people are of opinion that but a slender business can be carried on in such a small concern. When he gets hold of the raw material of thought, it is there that he heats it in the fire of fancy, and hammers it out on the anvil of judgment into form and shape ; it is there that he takes off its original roughness, and polishes it up until it shines most resplendent'}’ —in his own eyes at least; it is there that he constructs and furnishes up his essays, and smoothes his son nets, and sharpens his satires, and points his epigrams. But because his work is silent and inward, and not unfrequently carried on with ( his hands in his breeches pockets, and his | eyes fixed on vacancy, he is judged to be a drone, an idler; and people generally have no more idea of the care, the pain, the anxious and unceasing labor going on in his mental manufactory, than a deaf and blind man set down in an anchorsmith’s shop, has of the toil, din and bustle by which he is surrounded And therefore is the author called indolent, la zy, and much vituperated by self satisfied bu sy-bodie-s. And if he find not a ready vend for his articles, and his garments becomeequi- I vocal—his coat bordering on the shabby, yet still claiming a lingering connection with the genteel, (a rather touching sight when rightly thought about,) he serves t<> ‘ point the moral’ I of some purse-proud, pudding-headed, coarse minded man, who directs the attention of his offspring to him as an instance ot the evil es. sects of “ scribbling, and such like.” Yet 1 ris he his privileges and immunities. Shut him in a garret, and only put pen, ink, and paper beside him, and a sudden affluence flows in upon him. The most skilful archi tect constructs not palaces, castles, and elegant mansions with one-thousandth part the skill 1 and rapidity he does, and he furnishes them in ■ a style which sets all upholstery efforts at de fiance. How regal are his fancies. Expense i is never thought of. He lays out grounds, and i purchases estates, and creates fountains, arli- i ficial lakes, lawns, shrubberies, conservatories, ’ and so on, in most princely fashion. Should i his hero or heroine be involved in temporary ' difficulties, let them not despair—he has wealth i unbounded at command for their relief. He ! does the most generous actions in the world, I without scruple or consideration, and the mo- i ney he gives away (tn this way) to worthy t objects of charity, is without count or reckon i ing. Yet is he, himself, frequently in debt for i his lodgings. 1 Again, if he chooses to get ou! of temper, he s is perfectly diabolical, and stabs, poisons, or I drowns the most respectable people *• withom ' remorse or dread,” and no man says if he t does. He is often engaged in duels w hich ter ‘ minute fatally, and yet the police interfere not, ; and juries take no cognizance of the matter. < He abstracts and abducts the most choice and I rare specimens of beauty and innocence from t their fond parents and peaceful homes, uses t them villanously, abandons them to the tender i mercies of the world, and is yet (though he is i not an uncommon case) received smilingly into society! In short, when he is in a morbid, I bad humor—often the consequence of feeling I carniverously without due exercise—he is in i the habit of committing the most unheard.of j cruelties, and would seem to be exempt from i all ties and obligations—above ail laws, human ' and divine—only that his landlady occasional, ly brings him to a sense of his moral obliga tions and legal responsibilities, by pi immfog her mouth, shaking her head, and saying unto him—‘Seven weeks due come Mondy, Mr. M —!” and his washerwoman in presenting her bill, insinuates that soap cost mcney, and shirts cannot be washed without it. But to leave sporting with the subject, an author (using the term in its highest sense) is, in sober truth, the noblest of human beings— above all other created animals. Yei is he a paradox. Humble, yet proud; poor, yet as. fflnent; without lordship or dignities, yet above all dignities and lordship; weak, yet stronger than armies, without apparent sway or power, yet feeling that it is his mind and the mind of his brethren, that rule the world ; quiet aud vegetative, yet, either directly or in directly, sowing the seeds of mighty change. Coleridge has said that he could not. form a more august conception than that of Milton, old. poor, blind persecuted, and composing his “Paradise Lost.” And it is Mriton and other gifted beings who have made earth what it is —who have diffused the elements of thought, and scattered imperishable images of beauty throughout the unniverse. 11 is those choice spirits who have been sent ot: earth by the Great Author of all, to give man a clearer conception oflhe spirituality of his nature, and to hint to him wh it high glory may be Iris if in this bis probationary sta’e, he shakes nffthe clogs of worldliness, and wallows not in the slough of sensuality, but “ taking heed unto the thing that is right,” and ever keeping in view his high destiny, he preserves pure and undimmed the divine ray within him. Authors, in this lofty sense, are the “salt ot the earth wherewiih it is seasoned.” But ew would descend to lower ground. It is rather of authorlings wc would speak. Fel lows “In foolscap uniform, turn’d up with ink”— and very clever amusing fellows too, in their j wav (or in their o.vn opinion,) but who are ; “of the earth earthy,” and niiieteen-tweiitieths j of whose sayings and doings, after serving I their turn, will pass away and be forgotten like unto the “unwritten” or unprinted sayings and doings of other men. These are the peo ple on whom magazines, reviews, newspapers, all the genus ephemera depend for their eplw moral existence. They delight in tails, essat s, (moral and amusing ) shsrl, poems, sketches, criticisms, et cetera,occasionally write a pl :i y, and fiemiently a novel, and though very defi cient anil ‘nefiicicut folks as compared with tl;e standard of excellence, are by no means lo be sneezed at by people with opaque Irearls, and simply heavy purses to recommend them. They sometimesevince glimpses of a fine spir it—of a higher natiiro--tha:> what animates the mere money-making mass, a: <1 nut ■rifre cmeiitiy acquire small fames—local ;:ot<iriti'-s. But then there is such a number of them that they all cannot become iirimor'a! without a oreat i :co.ive<:ienee ; ami so, alter they have shone in small re.spkmler:cy for some shmt time, ns the star of weekly, monthly or qmir. terly journa!, it is very properly ordained lha’ “their lamp should be put out ri obscure dark ness,” in order tn make room for their vers numerous successors a‘l rushing on, eager, for print, praise ami pence. Print and praise! glorious ami soul-stii ing stimulm.is ; huK rnany ymilli do *ou luru info ATSIEXN, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1838. the path of prose and the intricacies of poetry, and keeping him ther«, until, the charms ot print and praise gone by, pence has to be cal led in at last, as the sober but more substantial recompense for exertion, and held out in per. spectiveas the inducement to string together rhymes by the yard and sentimentalisms by the sheet. Oh, very different is the author ling’s feeling between perusing his first maga- Sine article, and his fiftieth. In what a state of preternatural excitement is the juvenile as. ter despatching his maiden effort to the publish er ! He is feverish—cannot sleep o’nights, and his parents become anxious about their “dear boy.” At length the long-looked for number is published. He devours the “ con tents”—a faint sickness comes over hisn—it is’not there! Death and despair! He flies to“ the answer to correspondents,” and (oh, { bliss !) it is promised ! Very wearily does the j next week or month- creep over. What a sit uation is his. A bride’s is nothing to it, just upon the verge of authorship and yet not an author. At last out it conies. He is in print —actually in print' ?»ll mysterious hints are solved—all doubts are dissipated, aud he stands revealed to his admiring relatives as ths au thor of the essay on “The Pursuit of Happi ness, or some other moral novelty. And great is his secret satisfaction as he peruses and re peruses his virgin fancies; much is he struck with the truth of the truisms and the undenia bleness of what cannot be denied. “ Wealth (he reads) does not always confer happiness ; and the poor peasant on his bed of straw, slumbers perchance, more soundly than the proud monarch on his couch of down !” He has seen this, or something like this before, perhaps, hut its truth and beauty never struck him half so forcibly as it uuw does when in corporated in his own essay. At length, sa tiated with self.approval, he goes in sincerity hunting among his friends—that is, he perse cutes them for their “sincere opinion” of his trifling article.” Os course the friends, in or der to be quit of the adolescent bore, commend the thing mightily, and bo is a ruitrnd youth. But these feelings pass away. Sometimes, indeed, the lain foolish young authorling merely alters io the vain, foolish old authorl ing; but, generally, he gets more sens* — writes better, and thinks legs about it, and now and then receives soma trifling credit spontaneously. But this, also, he perceives is “ altogether vanity.” He becomes easy aud indifferent; he cares not to read any thing he writes after he has oace got the man uscript out «f his sight; he wants not again to look upon the jocularity that cost him so much trouble, or the sentiment he was so long seeking after. If his crudities do not meet his eye in print, he perceives at once a thou sand imperfections. His taste has out grown the other faculties; he has become fastidious he percciv*?® V'htJ th: y are and knows what they ought to be, and becomes vensihfo ‘hat “if to do. were as easy as to know W bat were good to be done.” he would be a much clev. erer fellow than he is. He cannot come up to his own standard. The only tiring that par ticularly interests him about his articles are their length, fur »e many sheets signify so many dollars. His intellect goes by measure ment. Your authsrling is generally poor. When he gets hold of u good subject, he siys unto himself, “ that is worth so and so,” but he is much given to over-fsiimatiog. IL is an in judicious being—simple anti sanguine—and no great hand at figures. He iuvari.-blv, “ reckons his chick* ns before they are hatch cd,” and always reckons two clrckeus to eve ry e SS > so th“t when hts thoughts, feeh.tgs, fancies and reflections come to be turned in current coin, he commonly finds liimself con. siderably on the wrong side of his calcula tion. My Lord Foppington is of opinion that it is much better for a man “to amuse himself with the sprouts oflris own imagination, than to be beholden to other people.” This is a very iugemus pleasant idea of his lordship s but different men (profound discovery !) have different tastes. Many, doubtless, tired ol their own thoughts, (or at le z ast of arranging them methodically for the use of it much more agreeable to entertain themselves with the product of another’s mind, than lo ransack their own. I tis all the pleasuie with out any of the toil—the honey without the wormwood. If a man wishes to ei joy his idealities let him take a walk in the fields on a fine day, or share his quips and quiddities fresh as they arise in conversation with under standing friends. These are your truly luxu rious ways of using a superfluous flow of lina ges ; and if a man be very much beset by “ thick coming tancies which keep him from his rest,” he may pleasantly relieve himself by a paper on a pet subj< et. But to sit and look into tin fire fur thoughts, aud walk the room for ideas, and after you get hoi.l ofthem, examine them aud put them into shape and ol der for the amusement of other people, this is a bore unutterable, which the authorliug only can properly understand —a thankless, and what is worse, very often a thriftless labour. But (exclaims some one) never w ere great exploits performed; or immortal fame won, I v thinking &• reasoning after this fashion. Pooh 1 when a man finds lie has it not in him to per form great, exploits, wii.it is the use of bother itig himseir (if he can help it) with n. number of little inefficacious attempts. As for irn„ mortal fatnu, it is for the'few—authorlings are the many. Authorlings. nt least those whose vanity has not clinked their common sense, know wc!', that, however successful they may chance to bn in acquiring notoriety a id to'er.i bly pleasant distinction, know also that it is but for their “day and generation ;” —that they must, in turn, go to “ the oblivious cooks” along with their precursors of antiquity, and if they lie sensible people, they will not ent the worse dimier on that act omit. Where be now the authrirlingsof Tlu bes and Palmyra ! “ Fret not thyself, vain man. ” It is sufficient for such an order of beings, ifthey have amused or r structed in a moder ate degree, and have not abused the gifts, such as thev were, it had pleased heaven to assign unto ihcir keeping. Yet there be those them, (tile smallest g-nerally of the t»ilp\)l who, vain of tin ir modicum talent, becom" i“ Solent, conceited, pi t leatioiiK. fi .tulent. >mfi' ri up, being (as J.nphaz tin- lermonite »uys) “ filled with the east wind,” and who are moreover, waspish, intolerant, slanderous, boiii: over .vith small wra’h and unregarded fury. We have ;>it heard ot a tempest in a tea cup —a puddle in a storm. Gu to, I lien. Lei such well consider llu ir own littleness lhesm.iil cc’.iS'-quencc of their “hate” and •‘seor ami soon, and the i consider-.We j qua. thy of atle, timi of . < ce.=sit\ paid to tied.- I Irirmtis tii'mimriio s and most yotei.t i.-..ngn ■ I tw q a-.id they w i i perk-mt* refrain tioa ammr ing the world with penny-trumpet thunder. -Let them consider the end of all things— what they are and what they will be. If ever in a happy moment, the authorliug effects any thing likely to be remembered, let him recollect it will be because it has the salt of goodness and good nature in it ; for though the perverse nature of the individual may some times lead him, for a time, to prefer the weed to the flower, yet men,collectively, tread what is ebanful and noxious under foot, and seek on ly to preserve what is pure and of pleasant sa. vor. Whare is now all the conceit, fury, hate, bitterness, intolerance, »bsaetrity and other filth voided in past generations ? Pretty well all sunk in Avernus. Man. though an inheri tor ol sin, has a principle of geoduess m him stronger still, which will doubtless ultimately prevail. It is only the demon that exclaims— “ Evil, be thou my good.” Authorlings have not a very extensive pow. er certainly, either for good o.'evil, being of the fungus family, but it rests with each one ofthem, whether he chooses to bo considered a rnushroen era toadstool. He may as well I be a mushroon. 1 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. EY KOBERT SOUTHEY. It was a summer evening— Old Kaspar’s work was done, And lie, before his cottage door, Was sitting tn the sun ; And by him sported on the green, His little grand-child, Wilhelmine. She saw*her brother Petejktn Roll semething large and round, Which he, beside the rivulet, In playing there, had found : He came Vo askl.what ho had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And when the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, “’Tissome poor fellow’s skull,” said he, •• Who fell in the great victory. “ I find them in the garden, There’s many here about; And often, when I goto plough, The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men,” said he, “ Were slain m that great victory.” “ Now tell us what ’twas all about—” Young Pelerkin he cries, And little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eves — “ Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for.” “ It was the English.” Kasper cried, “ Who put the French to rout; But what they killed each other fvr, I could not well make out; But every body snid," quoth he, “ That ’twas a famous victory. “ My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by: They burned his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly; So with his wife and child he fled. Nor had he where to-rest his head. “ With fire and sword the country reund Was wasted far and wide, And many a hapless mother, then. And ntanv an infant,Jdied : But things like these you know must be At every famous victory. “ They say it was a shocking sight, After Sheffield was won ; For many thousand bodies her* Lay rotting in the sun ■■ But things like that you know must be After a famous victory. “ Great praise the Duke of Marlboro won And our good Prince Eugene.” “ Why, 'twas a very wicked thing 1” Said little Wilhelmine. “ Nay, nay, my little girl,” quoth he, e Jt was a famous victory. “ And every body praised the Duke Who such a fight did win.” “ But what good came of it at last ?” Quoth young Peterkin. “ Whv, that I cannot tell,” said he ; “ But’twas a famous victory." We find the following embodied in an ad dr ss recently cudiveretl bx Gov. Eveiett, nt a meeti mos the friends of Education, co..veiled at Taunton, Muss : It is a great mistake, (says Mr. Everett.) to suppose that it is necessary to be a proh-ss lonal man, in order to have leisure to itidmgea taste for reading. Far otherwise. I believe the mechanic, trie engineer, the husbandman,, the trader, have quite as much leisure as the average in the learned professions. I know some men busily engaged in the** different callings of active life, whose minds are wall stored with various useful knowledge acquired i from books. There wou'd be more such men, . if education in our Common Schools were, as | it well might be, of a higher order; and if Common School libraries, well furnished, were | introduced mtn every district, us 1 trust in lima they will be. It is surprising, sir, how much may be efl’ected, even under the must unfa vorable circumstances for the improvement of the mind, by a person resolutely bent on the acquisition of knowledge. A letter has late ly been put into my hands, bearing date the 6th of Septeinbi r, so interestii g tn itself, and sostro’.-gly illustrative of this point, that 1 will read a portion of it; though it was u iit.en, I am sure, without the least view tu pumicity : “ I was the youngest, (says the w riter,) of many brethren, and my purents v ere poor. My means of'-ducatio.. were limited to Ihe i.i vaat.igr s of a district school, and those agui . we-e circumscrib; d by mv father’s death, which deprived it 'th al' of fit'* ot I those sen tv opp rtu lit -. whieh )'■■', - I uiisly e inved. \ m-• hs alter his de-j cease. 1' pnr>-ti'e< d m.v< '■ 1’ io a blm-t.0m.1l | i.i mv . mi' ■ village. I btl’m: I c .rried a : I indomitable taste f.r reading, whi'.h I had yre xiouslx' ucqmretl throiigl’i the medium ol tk.- SOCI-'IV library; nil the historical work* m which Ihidat th it time perused. At the ex piration ot a little more than licit mx appren. ticeslrip, I l uddetdy eonceivi d the idea of stu dying Liitin. Through the assistance of air i I der brother, v ho had himself i.bfimeti a voile, "lute education bv Iris oxv.i exeitioes. I com plcl.’d tnx Virgil during ill' 1 eve..mgs ci ■■ e I W-.liter After sc-e-:' tm - ." devoted to Ci.- ro i axd u tsw o,Mei‘ Lull.: a.aim.Sj 1 ou iim-uCtu the Greek. At this time it was necessary that I should devote every hour of daylight and a . evening to the duties of my appren- Still I carried my Greek grammat tg my hat, and often found a moment, when I was boating some large iron, when I could pltice my book open before me against the chimney of my forge, and go through with tup le, tupteis, fupiei, unperceived by my fellott apprentices, and to attribute my confusion of face to a detrimental effect of the charge in my fire. At evening I sat down unassisted aud alone to the Illiad of Homer, twenty books of which measured my progress in that lan guage during the evenings of another winter. 1 next turned to the modern languages, and was much gratified to learn that my knowl. edge of the Lutin fiirnifhed me with a key to the literature of most of the languages of Eu rope. Thiscirc'itnstaecegave anew impulse to the desire of acquainting mvself with the philosophy, deriviation and affinity of the dis ■ terent tongues. I could not be reconciled to limit myself in these investigations to a few I hour- alter the arduous labors of the day. 1 therefore Laid down my hummer and went to New Haven, where I recited to native teach- ers in French, Spanish, German and Italian. I returned at the expiration of two years to the forge, bringing with me such books in those as I could procure. When I had read these books throughl commenced the He brew with an awakened desire of examining another field ; and by assiduous application I was enabled tn a few weeks to read this lan guage with such facility that I allotted it to myself as a task, to read tuo chapters m the Hebrew Bible, before breakfast each mor: ing: this and an hour at noon being all the time that 1 could devote to myself during the day. After becoming somewhat familiar with this language, 1 looked around me fur the means of initialing myself into the fields of Literature, and to my deep regret and concern I found iny progtess in this tliioution hedged up by the want of requisite bou»s I immediately be gan to devise menus of obviating this obstacle; and after ma :y plans I concluded to seek a place as a sailor on board some ship bound to Europe, thinking in this way to have opportu nities ofcollectiug at different ports such works 1 in the modern ami oriental languages as I found 1 necessary for this object. I left the forge and my native place to carry this plan into execu tion. I travelled on foot to Boston, a distance of more than a hundred miles, to find some vessel bound to Europe. In this 1 was disap pointed, and, while revolving in my mind what steps next to lake, 1 accidentally heard oflhe American Antiquarian Society in Worcester. 1 immediately bent my steps towaids this place. 1 visited the Hall ol the A. A. S. and found there, to niy infinite such a col lection of ancient, modern, and oriental langua ges as I never before conceived to be collect, ed in one place ; and, sir, you may imagine with what sentiments of gratitude I was af fected, when upon evincing a desire to exam me some of these rich and rare works. I was kindly invited to an unlimited participation in all the benefits of this noble institution. Avail- ing myself of the kindness of the directors, I spent about three hours daily' ut the hall, which, with an hour at noon and about three in th<- evening, make up the portion of the day which I appropriate to mv studies, the rest being oc cupied i t arduous manual toil. Through the facilities afforded by this i stitutiom I have been able to mid so much o my previous ac quaintance with the ancient, modern and ori entul languages, as to be able to read upwards of fifty of th-xn, with more or less facility.” I trust, Mr. Pr sideat. I shall be pardoned by j the ingenious author of this letter and the gen i tlem.m to whom it is addressed, (W. Lincoln, j Esq. of Worcester,) fur the liberty which I I’have taken, unexpected, I am sure, by both ot i them, in thus making it public—lt discloses a ’ resolute purpose of improvement, (under ohsta civs and difficulties ot no ordinary kind,) which excites my admiration, I may say, my vener ation. it is enough to make one, who has had good opportunities for education, hang his head in shame. A VISION. When I was a wanderer, I was once in Surat where I made the acquaintance of a Brahmin, so liberal, that he had much con. verse with me, though, according to Lfis creed I was of an impure c isle,;nd it was i i Brah miitical strictness, a pollution for him to per mit me to approach within ninety six feet. He was a director in the Banyan hospital, where sick and wound animals are attended to with as much kindness as is sometimes thrown away in more enlightened countries, upon ungratefui men. “Young man,” said the Hin doo philosopher, for such he was, “what mo tive has led you, at these years, so far from your horn ,<i..d wh.it compensation do you ex pect for such a sacrifice of the affections!” “1 have but one motive,” said I, “that is, curiosity ; which, if strictly analyzed, may be found composed of a desire to escape from scenes tri which I had ceased to be happy, mid to find, in distant lands, a substitue for bappi uess, iti change of scene and emotions ot no- velty.” “Il is n vian pursuit,” said the Brahmin, “and,” continued he. “1 have been belter in structed in a vision. I saw,” saitl he “in a dream, an ancient aud sage like man; Iris brow xvas not smooth, neither was his eye at rest. It seemed that he was familiar to me though I could not remember m here 1 had seen him before. He looked intently upon me, and said, Mortal, lam as thy shadow. 1 have been near thc<U’rom thy birth. I shall be nearer through life, arrti 1 shall not quit thee til! death. Death only can divide us; but thou wilt en deavor to fly from me, and will sometimes think, that thou hast escaped. Yet 1 am ;.<>• thv euemx', though I have iitleth it th >n wilt love. Thou art bourn! to a enumry where I cannot go; but then wilt be better received there, for what thou wilt learn of me in the j nrie y. If. irii' >i se .sou, thou avoid me, thmi x<. tit find uotlii g, tb*t wiil not so remind thee <. ■ tm , tbi ttliou xx i.i.lii 'Ugli disappointed again return to me, as thy companion through \vas soon attracted to a being of fir more cetis in.' asp ct. He was flushed with youth . v .-„x» ed wi'h a chaplet efflowerg. “Fol i xv me,” smd 11“. radiant wiili smiles. Imn Pi asme, aud I kuoxv him from whom then wouldsl < scape. He. is care, but he <• si mot I hr. ntlie while every odor is a peifume,, and evrix sound is music-’ Fora while I follow e,' Pi-asm- ; but the society soon became an tasteless, that I full ihut I could prefer even that of Care. “Dis ippoi ted and sorrowful, yet with n mind attuned tu the softest emotions, I ap- I'roaeh.-il a dam -el u ho was silting by a ioun ■ al", I'leaS'd With I lie reflection of her beauty, i r»u w hile her tvara wcris faliiirg lull tlw Vol. VI-Wo. SA- stream. ‘Maiden,’ said I, with our oriental abruptness. ‘Why dost thou weep, and what is thy name?’ >1 weep,’ replied »he, in < voice broken and murmuring like that of tbv fountain, ‘because 1 am the most happy while I weep ; and my name is Love.’ ‘I will <bl liw thee,’ said I,’ ‘through every path; and hould the thrors lacerate my feet, I will-net leave thee with whom it is better to weep thae to smile with Pleasure ; aud in following thc< I may the farther remove from Care.’ ‘Alas' said Love,‘thou little knowest. Listen! f.- I hough lam not wise, I am at least sincere. . have learned from my uncles, Wisdom and £x perience, that neithe* Love ner Pleasure, ca escape the pursuit of Care. 1 cau oujy pre mise, that in iny society y«u wilt the lees re gard him.” Hcte the Brahmin addressed me trying, “Stranger, return, therefore, to thy eeuntiy, follow the footsteps of Love; for the affections confer more happiness than the intellect. Happiness is uo‘ the offspring of Knowledge ; but to he good is to be happy. From the New York Sun. HIGHLY INTERESTING DISCOVERY. I’he existence at some lime of an aUma* on this continent, called the Mammoth or Mas todon, of a size superior to all known animals of the present day, has long been admitted bv naturalists as the discovery cf bones and other relics place the matter beyond doubt. The generally received supposition has been, ws believe,that these animals b aome extinct from causes u knowr., or existed conictoporanoous iy witii a race of men of whom the preaaut generation have no knowledge. A correspondent of the St Louis, M.>. Bui leri describes a discovery of the bonus of those animals in the situation which leaves as ro >m to doubt the huge beast was dispatches by Ihe Indians with various missiles, and part ly buried by them. Ths remains were first discovered by Mr. Walsh, a farmer in Gascon, ade county, who in digging about bis spring, found, about five feet below the surface of the earth, a thigh and hip bone.—This led more exploration, and excavatiens were im mediately commenced ou a large scale in the viciuty of the spring. The first layer of ourth turned up was a. vegetable mould, next to this came a blue clay, and then sand and b.tie clay. Among this latter were large numbers of detached pie. ces of rock, weighing from two to twenty. five pounds of such form and appearance that thev had evidently baen detached from larger rocks, and hurled or brought to this spot. Noether rocks or gravel are found within twennty five yards. Next to the sand clay came a veget able mould, and on the surface of this was found an Indian spear,a bone ds an axe,burn ed wood, and crumble of bone, broken spears, ax. s and knives. There were twenty witness es to this i itercsting exhumation, the result es which is summed up as follows ia the 3t. Louis Bulletin. Ths fire appeared to have been the largest on the head and neck of the animal, as the ashes and coals were much deeper here than in the rest of the body ; the skull was quite perfect, but so much burned that it crumbled to dust on the least touch ; two feel from this was found two teeth broken off from the jaw, but mashed entirely to pieces. By patting them together, showed the animal to have been much larger than anv heretofore discovered. It appeared by the situation of the skeleton, that the animal had been sunk with its hind feet in the mud and water, and unable to extri cate itself, had fallen on its right side, and io that situation was found and killed as above describee, consequently the hind and fore feot on the right side were sunk deeper in the mud a id thereby suved from the etfectsof ths firs therefore I was enabled to preserve the whole oi the hmd toot to the very last joint, and ths fore loot all but some few small bones too de. cayed to be worth saving. Also between tbs rocks that had sunk through the ashes was found large pieces of skin, that appeared like large pieces of fresh tanned sole leather, strongly impregnated with the lye from the nshes, and a great many of the sinews and arteries were p'ain to be seen on the earth and rocks, but in such a state as not to be moved excepting one small piece, the size es a hand xx I tch is uoxv preserved in spirits. PNATHER FIGHT ON GRAND RIVER, A gentlemen of our acquaintance has lately received a letter from Col. R. P- Bowie, es Iberville, containing some interesting rela. lions. We are kindly permitted to make some extracts, after apologizing to the writer set publishing that to the world* which was meant tnily for the eye of a friend. The letter ie dated Nov. 13*th, 1838, and after the rOeirtioe of some minor matters, the Col. describes the appearance of a man he encountered in the woods lately, while e:i a hunting excursion in, the following words: “I saw an old mail in the woods, ’hat has lived there three years alone—he says ho has seen nu human being before in twelvemonths; an odd old fellow who neither knew the year, mouth or day—when I found him, he was digging potatoes ; he has about six hundred head of hogs, these, with his gun and deg, are bis only wealth his beard is perfectly white, and about eight inches long he comes nearer mi idea ufaa old patriarch than any thing I ever saw—he was dressed in buckskin, at>d appear ed contented.” There is doubtless a history es some interest connected with the life of ene, wh* at an ad. vanved age, thus contemns the sympathies es (he world. We should like to hear the eld man’s tale under the shade of seme tree, bv a sireamb't in the forest. ' 9 The following notice of a “ P»ntherjighi''’ which came oiFkitely, on Grand River, speaks well for the prowess of those engaged in it. “Mr. Carr hearing a hog squeal about dark, took up his gun and went out to see “what was to pay.” On his arrival in the cane, he found a panther “rather busy”in making u[> to him. —He attempted to tiro his rifle, but it snapped—ho then struck the ani. m(1 on the it»<r with it, when the barrel fell out ol the stock. Upon this the panther jump, ed hack into the ratio, and seized -the hwg which he had left for the purpose of attacking Carr, who nothing daunted hy the untoward accident went to his house, repatrod the dam. age of his gun uti l came hark t » ths ecene, i w i»h his tc.fh anti a yon ng girl— one of them i having an axe, an i the other a tomahawk. Ou arriving, they found tlie panther k hind i a bunch of palmetto, where he could not h* ; seen ctly. Carr gave up his gun to th* J girl—_tovk th.’ axe, and cut thapalmetto doWn ' -—at th it t istturt the panthwv leaped upon him —threw him down—bit hith in the head, anti ( was defuqa tveth at his thiw,