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I CHRONICLE and pENTINEL. * alm: V S T A . “ i 1 SATURDAY MORNING, 'EBRUARY 15. ( Virginia and Ne|r York* ( It will be remembered by lur reader* that a , controversy has arisen between the two States ( whose name* ftar.d at the hetji of this article, ex , actly similar to m»w that pending bet we. n « Jgi ( and Maine. We commend the peruaa o our readers, the followng e.tmct from the proceed ing. of the Virgini. Legislature, «■ that controrersT. It wi" be acn that an enti J different couree from that ptopomtd to oor Legts latore is commended to the Legtslatare of V.r ginia by the Committee to wkpro the matter was referred. Our 'readers will Remember that we did not concur in the cour a of policy recom mended to our Legislature in Ration to the diffi culty with Maine, and rccoro! tended too by some of our own personal and p Ut ical friends, for whose opinions upon aK subj|ts we entertain the most profound respect. We&hought the course proposed on that occasion t o harsh; we think that proposed by The Commi ee of the \ irgima Legislature equally ineffici nt. Without ex pressing any further opinion fipon the subject we commend to our readers the e| tract referred to. General Assembly <K Virginia. Satchiut* February 8. %„ . A HOUSE OF Mr. Bayly, from the select (loinajittce io whom bo much of the Governor's Ivll fisage as relates to the correspondence between J the Executive of Virginia and the Governor ;*f New \ ork bad been referred, presented a Ion) report, which was laid upon the table and ordeuSi to be printed. Mr. B. assigned the reason*|ior the delay which had occurred in making out fie report. It con cluded in the following manrir: “Your committee cannot clvse this report with out expressing in high terms Sts cordial approba tion of the conduct of the Eifccutive of Virginia in relation to this controversyfwith New \ork. “Your committee recomm' id the adoption of the following resolutions: I *•1, Resolved, That the reasons assigned by the Governor of New York fcl his refusal to sur render Peter Johnson, Edwarf Smith, and Isaac Gansy, as fugitives from jus|ce, upon the de mand of the Executive of thi» State, are unsat isfactory ; and that that refiial was a palpable and dangerous disregard, on ti»; part of the Gov ernor of New York, of his du|?s under the Con stitution of the United Stales^ _ U!U “2. Resolved , That the course of the Execu f live of New York cannot be ;*iquiesced in. “3. Revolved, That the c»|irse of the Execu -»r tive of New York, if pcrseve|d in, will make it ’ the solemn duty of Virginia i> appeal from the cancelled obligation of the constitutional compact, to her reserved rights. J “4. Resolved, That the Gofernor of this State be authorized and requested si; renew his corres pondence with the Exccutivilot New York, re questing that that functional-' will review the grounds taken by him ; and t|at he will urge the consideration of the subject u* on the Legislature of his State. ; “5. Resolved, That the Governor of Virginia be requested to open a correspondence with the Executives of each of the si tve-holding States, requesting their co-operatioi in any necessary and proper measure of redrl s», which Virginia may be forced to adopt. “ ff. Resolved , That the G| vernor of Virginia be requested te lorward copii , of these proceed ings to the executive of earfi fdate of this Union, with the request that they be aid before their re spective Legislatures.” may next. j. ne or was then passed without division, in the follow ng form : “ Bs it enacted. That if at f person shall bet or wager upon any election or ppointment to of fice tol>e made under the autf rity of ti e laws of . this Commonwealth or of the United States, or both, or shall bet or wager upoi , any result or re sults of such election, whether l such bet or wager be of money or other thing, c the value of one dollar or upwards, he. shall upc <\ conviction therc of, be guilty ot unlawful gam ijg; and for every such offence shall forfeit am pay the sum of twenty dollars, to he recove. d in any of the inodes prescribed by the act < ititled “An act to reduce into one, the several a ts to prevent un lawful gaming;” and in every rase of conviction, an attorney’s fee of twenty doi irs shall be taxed in the bill of costs. This act shall be in fiTcef'rom and after the first day of May | G*?r. R. ’Jt, Hatwb.—An I ration commemo rative of this distinguished gei ileman was deliv. ered hy the Hon. Geo. McDuffi , to a very nume rous audience, in the city of Ch rlestonon Thurs' day. The Courier speaks of i as an able and eloquent eulogy, but complains tat it partook too much of a party character. It i to be published. \ —— The New York Gazette spea a of a self-acting alarm bell in case of fire, which iw recently been invented in that city. The bel attached to a ma chine, will ring whenever the eat reaches 120 deg. ot Fahrenheit, or it may b jp-aded to a low •r temperature. One can be pis ed in every room in a house. The operation •? < used by the ex pansion of a metallic plate, subje ted to the action of the temperature. The whole cost of apparat us for the largest building is $4( The Legislature of Alabam have passed a Resolution directing a stay ofe coitions by the State Bank of Alabama and oth« Banking Insti tut ion sin that State. The rea. assigned for this measure is the unusually dr season having prevented the people from carryi g their crops to market and realizing m any wa j their profits on the same. I Thk Northern Frontier. -It i s not gen •ally known (says the N.Y.St r} that orders have been transmuted by the I itish Govern ment to the authorites in Upper ; id Lower Can «da and Nava Scotia, to place L a whole line in »n immediate stale of defence; a d fortifications and redoubts will be erected frot Mackinaw to Passamaquoddy. The principal mints, we have no doubt, will be on the coasts of Lake Erie and Ontario on the St. Lawrence a, 1 the N. East ern Boundary. 1» . , . ' already said ;hat extensive barracks are in progress of r e»s ot erectio opposite De trail; that Fort Malden is bo injJ , ■r f Tr b „" t r Ch,p — • of im-wruoc. m ihe ptannee ol v,_ „ wiU. .. BruM- Southern USSmT so The January and February Nos. (und« one h, covar) of lids excellent period.cal, are receired. p , A publication which ha. always bM! ' i OO4 - »< rlably good, and which we h... often pratsed. . needs not a particular notice ot tbia time. There is one article, however, in this number, which we u design to publish in txtemu, from the pen of r j Conwav Robiksok, Esq. of Richmond, \ a., entitled “ Slavery and the Constitution ” worthy of the perusal and reflection of the patriotic por- g tion of every section of our confederacy. The Baltimore Patriot states that the Rev. R. c J. Breckcnridge, of the 2d Presbyterian Church, of Baltimore, has been elected to the ofEce of c President of Transylvania University, at Lexing- t K ton, Ky. t L The Southern Ladies’ Book. s The first number of this new Southera pen- t odical was received by the last mail. Its contents { argue well of its future usefulness and ability.— The typographical execution is not so good as we presume it is intended to make it; and may per- } haps may be attributed to haste in getting it out. We ardently hope that it will succeed, and re. 1 commend it to the patronage of the literary pub- pc of Georgia. We copy from it the following , lines : Woman* BY THE HOIf. ROBERT M. CHARLTON. ( We woo the life-long bridal kiss.” 1 Angel of Earth ! oh, what were life ! Without thy form—without thy smile f ; A circle of despair and strife, ‘ Os toil, of misery, and guile; Like mi-ts before the morning’s ray, t As from the snare, the timid dove, , So flee the cares of man away, ] Beneath thy kind and gentle love. ( Was Eden lost because of thee ! ! Have heroes left a laurel crown, * That they might bend the willing knee, < At dearer shrine than man’s renown ! Oh, who would sigli for all the pain, That loss like this could e’er impart, If h, vere only sure to gain, j i he Eden of a Woman's heart! 1 Mother ! can mortal e’er repay 1 Thy all devoted sacrifice ; Thy care, that lasts thro’ night and day. Thy love, that never, never dies ! In childhood’s hour, in manhood’s prime. When Age comes on with slew decay. In joy, in sorrow, and in crime, Still beams thy fond affection’s ray !J , Daughter! The Roman girl of old, Who from her maiden bosom nursed, The sire, whom dungeons vile did hold. Tortured by famine and by thirst, Shall illustrate thy filial love, Which can the drooping soul sustain, Like manna showered from above Upon Aarabia’s arid plain. Sister I The mate of childhood’s hour. When life was young, and fresh, and green ; The comforter when cares did lower. The sharer in each joyous scene ; What dearer tie, what purer love Can we around our hearts entwine, (Save that which beameth from above,) Than this abiding love of thine ! Yes! there’s another form whose charm, Doth in itself completely blend, The kind affections, pure and warm Os Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend ! Wife Oh ! the poet’s task is vain • thy spell, thy comfort, to portray ; As well might painter strive to gain The glory of the morning’s ray ! Angel of Life ! I would not give This ever-faithful love of thine, P»r oil thxx inv« nn liv«» /seek no dearer earthly shrine. Than that which holds a Woman's heart7 Savannah, Georgia. November, 1839. From the Savannah Georgian of Wednesday. The Settlement of Georgia. The recurrence of this day awakens in the bo soms of Georgians, those local feelings which should never be merged in the exciting cares which attend our daily avocations. The history of days gone by, teaching in their eventful pages the lessons which experience incul cates, must, when dwelt upon, whether in the closet or in public assemblies, enlighten our minds as to the difficulties and perils which encompass ed the pioneers to the then remote regions of this W'estern World, and which attended the founda tion, in wilds trodden by the foot of the uncivil ized aboriginees, of a community destined to be come a great and powerful State. The sp rit of philanthropy which guided Ogle thorpe wir,h his little band of followers, to the bluff of our own Savannah, would have derived a heightened impulse, could the veil of futurity have been raised and that prosperity revealed which now encircles (he descendants of those, against whom, children of his adoption, he refused to wield the brand of parental tyranny, which sought to make him the instrument of des olating these groves he had planted, and exter minating the asylum reared by his hand, and nourished by his fatherly care. The lofty pines which fell before the vigorous arm of the adven turer have long since yielded lh«ir places to the edifices of civilization ; and the forest, which re sounded with the whar-whoop of Tomichichi. re claimed from Nature, has put on the garb of Art, and hosannas, in joyful acclamation, ascend from the sacred temples which the gratitude of man has erected in our midst. The canoes which danced in wild but steady motion over the waves of the Savannah, urged by the rude piddle of the red man, and the lofty masts of ships, of almost every na tion or people, ride in their stead, freighted either with the products of the soil, or bearing the valu able returns of merchandise which active com merce brines tc our shores. The bluff, at the wharves of which they are moored, is the landing place of our forefathers,— Cherished it should be, as the Plymouth Rock is by the descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers of New England. The adventurers of 1620 sought the cold clime of New England, that they might enjoy liberty of conscience. ' The adventurers of 1733 landed at Yamacraw to seek a subsistence denied them, for the most part, in their native land, and to present in their persons, a barrier for the inhabitants of South Car olina, against the incursions of the Indians and other foes. But sprung from the same line of ancestry from which the P Igrims of Plymouth drew their life, their descent ants were directed by the same en thusiastic love of liberty which impelled the Mas- I sachusetts Colonists to resist pa.ental tyranny, i and at the dawn of the Revolution which severed 1 1 us, as a people, from the mother country, they ! i heard and responded to the cry from Fancuff i Vi h ° WtaS ’ u the infiint Her ‘'«les, their fu- I tore vigorous manhood. The powder which some gallant spirits captured from a man-of-war of the I enemy, in the waters ofour own Savannah, trans milted to Boston, as a free will offering ftom in- I 1 fant Georgia, uttered in loud tones the defiance of a people united against submission. 1 Georgia has assumed the vigor of‘manhood’s ° prime. Forty-two years only after Oglethorpe’s ] % xHstcps had imprinted her soil, her name w«* card and respected in the council* 9I the Coqfel racy. -Now; otte hundred and seven years have ias4d, and her thousands of free citizens, inapell d by the same love of country which inspit ed heir ancestors, congregate at the ballot-bo** at egul.tr periods, to choose their representatives to he National and Slate Legislatures, while the rack of the Indian which once foretokened a hor id death to the citizen, has been beaten out by he footsteps of another race, who have banished hem to distant regions. We, then, have entered oh another road to greatness, for the land occupied by the aboriginal settler, is now possessed by his successor, and •he fruits of civilization must rapidly follow the change. , Have we not then, as Georgians, every incen tive to cheer us on in our efforts to improve our condition and that of those generations who are to benefit by our energy ? Shall we not, as Amer icans, rally around our free institutions, and stifle those party feelings which divide men who should be brethren in feeling as in principle, pledge our selves to advance our Country and our State to of greatness which will bless the ef forts of her sons 1 Aegietis.—This African city is brought into notice at the present time, and a few words res pecting it will not come amiss. It is in about the same latitude with Norfolk, Va., and in about the same longitude with Tans. It lies on a beautiful bay, which is about fifteen miles in circuit, and where there is fine anchor age. The ground on which the city stands rises from the shore with a pretty sadden ascent. The wall which surrounds Algiers is thirty feet high and twelve thick, and about a mile and a half in circuit. Cannon are so planted as to render the approach of a hostile ship very difficult. The houses are of brick or stone, with flat 1 oofs ; and the city is so closely built that one may pass fiom one part of it to another on the tops of the buildings. The French bombarded and took Algiers on the sth of July, 1830. It has for ages been the abode of a mixed population, and a den of pirates. Many a time have these outlaws suffered severe chastisement, and brought to terms, as they were by our Decatur; but they seem not to brook re straint, and France will find it hard to keep them quiet. In former times the wealth and power of the Algerines were much overrated. They will be put down by France, and we fear will gain little from being subject to a Christian power. Would that they and all other nations were capable of taking care of themselves. The Spanish Student. On the fourth day of our journey we dined at Manzauares, in an old sombre-looking inn, which, I think, some centuries back must have been the dwelling of a grandee. A wide gateway admit ted us into the inn yard, which was a paved court, in the centre of the edifice, surrounded by a colonnade, and open to the sky above. Beneath this colonnade we were shaved by the village bar ber, a supple, smooth-faced Figaro, with a brazen laver and a gray montera cap. There, too, we dined in the open air, with bread as white as snow, and the rich, red wine of Valdepenas; and there, in the listlessness of after dinner, smoked the sleep inviting cigar, while in the court-yard before us the muleteers danced a fandango with the maids of the inn, to the Ibud music which three blind musicians drew from a violin, a guitar, and a clarionet. When this scene was over, and the blind men had grouped their way out of the yard, I fell into a delicious slumber, from which I was soon awakened by music of another kind. It was a clear youthful voice, singing a national song to the sound of a guitar. I opened my eyes, and near me stood a tall, graceful figure, leaning against one of the pillars of the colonnade, in the attitude of a serenader. His dress Was that of a Spanish student. He wore a black, gown and cassock, a pair of shoes made of an ex-pair of boots, and a hat in the shape of a half moon, with the handle of a wooden spoon sticking out fllb Agar?— The stranger made a leg, and accepted these signs of good company with the easy air of a man who is accustomed to earn his livelihood by book or by crook ; and as the wine was of that stark and generous kind which readily ‘ascends into the brain,’ our gentleman with the half moon hat grew garrulous and full of anecdote, arjd soon told us his own story, beginning with bis birth and parentage, like the people in Gil Bias. “I am the son of a barber,” quoth he; “and first saw the light some twenty years ago, in the great city of Madrid. At a very early age, I was taught to do something for myself, and began mv career of gain by carrying a slow-match in the Prado, for the gentlemen to light their cigars with, and catching the wax that dropped from the friars’ tapers at funerals and other religious pro cessions. “At school I was noisy and unruly ; and was finally expelled for hooking the master’s son with a pair of ox-horns which I had tied to my head, in order to personate the bull in a mock bull fight. Soon aftei this my father died, and I went to live with my maternal uncle, a curate in Fuencarral. He was a man of learning, and resolved that I should be like him. He set his heart upon mak ing a physician of me; and to this end taught me Latin and Greek. ‘ln due time I was sent to the university of Alcala. Here a new world opened before me. What novelty—what variety—what excitement! But, alas ! three months were hardly gone, when news name that my worthy uncle had passed to a better world. I was now left to shift for myself. I was penniless, and lived as I could, not as I would. I became a sopista, a soup-eater—a knight of the wooden spoon. I see you do not understand me. In other words then, I became one of that respectable body of charity scholars who go armed with their wooden spoons to eat the allowance of eleemosynary SOU p, which is ai 3, served out to them at the gate of the con vents. I had no longer house nor home. But necessity is the mother of invention. I became a Wh ° Were more fort unate than myself, smdied m other people’s books—slept in other peop, e ’ s beds, and breakfasted at other people s expense. This course of life has been demoralizing. but it has quickened my wits to a wonderful degree. “Did yon ever read the life of the Gran Taca no, by Quevedo ? In the first book you have a tailhful picture of in a Spanish university. What was true in his day is true in ours. O, Alcala 1 Alcala! if your walls had tongues as well as ears what tales could they repeat! What midnight frolics! what madcap revelries! what scenes of merriment and mischief! How merry is a stu dent’s life, and yet how changeable ! Alternate feasting and fasting—alternate Lent and Carni val—alternate want and extravagance! Care given to the winds—no thought beyond the pass ing hour; yesterday forgotten—to-morrow, a word in an unknown tongue ! “Did you ever hear of raising the dead 1 Not literally—but such as the student raised, when he dug for the licentiate Pedro Garcias, at the fountain between Penafiel and Salamanca—mo ney. No ? Well, it is done after this wise Gambling, you know, is our great national vice and then gamblers are so dishonest! Now our game is to cheat the cheater. W r e go at night to some noted gaming house—five or six of ns in a body. We stand around the table, watch those that are at play, and occasionally put i n a trifle ourselves to avoid suspicion. At length the fa vorable moment arrives. Some eager player ventures a large stake. I stand behind hia chair. He wins. As quick as thought I stretch my arm i over his shoulder and seiz i the glittering prize, « saying very coolly, ‘I have won at last.’ My Is gentleman turns round in a passion, and I his indignant glance wrtha look of surprise. He storms, and I expostulate; he menaces, I heed si his menaces no more than the buzzing of a fly that has burnt his wings in my lamp. He calls c the whole table to witness; but the whole table is busy, each with his own gain or loss, and there * stand my comrades, all loudly asserting that the a stake was mine. What can he do? there was a a mistake; he swallows the affront as l>est be may, p and we hear away the booty. This we call rais ing the dead. You say it is disgraceful—dishon est. Our maxim is, that all is fair among sharp- J ers Bailor al son que se toca- —dance to any tune that is fiddled. Beside, as I said before, po- t verty is demoralizing. One loses the nice dis- r tinctions -of right and wrong, of meum and tuum. “Thus merrily pass the hours of term-time. — When the summer vacations come round, I sling k my guitar over my shoulder, and witlj a light c heart and a lighter pocket, scour the country like s a strolling piper or a mendicant friar. Ijlkc lhe 1 industrious aut, in summer I provide for winter; l for in vacation wc have time for reflection, and make the great discovery, that there is a portion t of time'called the future. I pick up a trifle here and a trifle there, in all the towns and villages t through which I pass, and before the end of my tour I find myself quite rich—for the son ot a < barber. This we call the vide iunantesca—n t rag-tag-and-bob-tail sort of a life. And yet the vocation is as honest as that of a begging Fran c ciscan. Why not? 1 “And now, gentlemen, having dined at your expense, with your leave I will put this loaf of I bread and the remains of this excellent Vich sau sage into my pocket, and thanking you for your | * kind hospitality, bid you a good afternoon. God < be with you, gentlemen !” The Betrayer. ] It was the seventeenth of July, in the year of ( grace, 1429, that all Rheims was in a state of joy- , ous excitement on the occasion of the coronation , of Charles VII. He was formally conducted to the cathedral by Joan, the Maid ot Orleans, through whom a large portion of his kingdom had recently been snatched from the discomfitted Eng lish. Standing before the altar, and near the king, with the standard in her hand, she seemed absorbed by that enthusiasm which she had com municated to an entire army, when suddenly her eye became filled with tears ; an earthly emotion came to dissipate celestial dreams ; she perceived at the church door James of Arc, her father, and Durand Lexard, her uncle. The two aged men were come from Douremy, on foot, with a staff in their hands, to witness Joan’s glory. All the happiness of her early years, all the strong impressions ot an obscure and peaceful childhood crowded on the heroine’s memory; her village affections resumed a momentary sway in her warlike heart. No sooner was the ceremony finished than she prostrated herself at the king’s feet. “ Gentle king,” said she, “since God’s will is done, and you have come to Rhiems to receive your crown, I have accomplished that which the Lord commanded me to attempt, namely to raise the siege of Orleans and cause the king to be crowned. Now let me return to my vallage with my father. This armor, this standard, this sword, belong not to my sex. A divine impulse urged me to equip myself with them, but I feel that it is withdrawn, and I am only a woman —a woman born to spin and 10 guard flocks —a woman who dreads battles, and would allow herself to be slain on the field without defending herself. Permit me to return to Douremy. “ You, Joan, you leave us !” cried the king.— “ Would you break off'your well-begun work ? It cannot, must not be. Our soldiers would think that with you God was abandoning them. Oh, no.no —stay to fight, to conquer once more!” “If I remain, it will only be to die 1” cried Joan. “ Sire,” said William de Flavy, a ferocious and undoubted captain, “permit me to say that the in tnose who na(! 0 -ly courage; but now let your knights and captains attack the English, without exposing the life of a child who pines for her home and her parent.” Repeated murmurs interrupted William de Flavy. He had no sooner ended than the Duke of Alcncyn. La Trcmoille, and ten other brave soldiers and noblemen spoke, and claimed the right of retaining Joan in their ranks. “ Maiden,” said the king, “it is impossible that you can leave us.” “ I will remain with you till death, sire,” she answered; “hut, alas! my greatest enemies are not in the ranks of the English. Father, uncle,” she said to her relations who approached, “Joan must once more return to the battle-field. Prav for her !” J The maiden’s sad presentiments were but too soon justified by the result. Her glory was be come insufferable even to those of her brothers in arms who had at first desired to see the heroine remain in command. They felt envy at hearing her named as the source of all the victories. They had at the attack on the gate of St. Honore, in Paris, allowed Joan to expose herself imprudent ly to danger—danger from which she had only escaped at the price of her blood. She then mar ched towards Lompcigne, which was besieged by the English, and in which the most violent of her enemies commanded—M’illiam de Flavy, a man universally detested for his vices. She devoutly partook of the sacrament of the church ot St. Jacques; and while she was praying a gloomy vision dampened her courage; she turn ed pale, and supporting herself against a pillar, said to those near her, -Good friends, and dear children, I tell you that I shall assuredly be be trayed, and delivered over to death. Pray to God for rue; for I shall be unable to save my kin <r and the noble kingdom of France.” At this moment entered the church an officer whom she bad placed as sentinel on the ramparts. He came to give notice that the English were no longer on their guard, and that the moment was favorable for a sally. All the maiden’s sorrowful thoughts were dissipated at this news, and she thought but of victory— she felt only the enthu siasm of her divine mission. William de Flavy, according to his custom was feasting and making merry at table with his female favorites. The door suddenly opened, and Joan of Arc appeared. “De Flavy,” cried* she, “is this the way to propitiate heaven 1 Arise and pray ! The moment of battle has come; and whether Providence has victory or death in store for us, a spotless soul is necessary to deserve the one and brave the other.” William arose and went to put on his armor A soldier from his cradle, he was unable to remain deal to such an appeal to battle; but he murmured o himself, “Accursed maiden ? you shall dearly pay for the torments and humiliations you have caused. About one in the afternoon the maiden issued with her people by the gate of the bridge over the river Aisne. The English, encamped on the other side, were almost unarmed, and expecting no attack. They, however, hastily beat to arm* and formed an irregular force more numerous than that of their adversaries. Joan, at the head ot the r rench, twice made them give way • but w-o St U I be ?f me necessar y for her to retreat VV ilham de Flavy remained with a body of troons at the barrier of the bridge on the side of the 1 city, as a reserve ; but he abstained from afford- 1 mg Joan any assistance. The French were beaten back on the bridge- I the retreating army rushed precipitately on it’ 1 and pressed by the increasing numbers, it forced j c neti and horses; on the right and on the left into Ke riveri'’However,' Joan remained with the jji ast on ihe field, and her redoubted standard, the .hi prestige that was attached to her person, the jravcry of the few troops who surrounded her, ra still held the enemy in check. n The French had re entered Compeigne, ex- j, :epting the group who still fought with Joan of Arc. and who were slowly retiring on the town. g( Flavy had dispersed the retreatii g troops as fast as they came for refuge, and remained almost alone near the barrier of the bridge. He ap proached the man who guarded it. 1 “Close the barrier/’ said he. " “Sir,” answered the keeper, “it must not be so. * The maiden has not re entered the town.” 11 “Do as 1 command —I am master here. A hundred gold crowns are yours if you obey—if not —” . . i j c He raised his battle-axe, and the man closed h the barrier by an almost involuntary movement. The axe was stilt suspended over his head ; the keeper locked the barrier. He had scarcely thus obeyed,'•‘when the battle-axe suddenly fell and s sunk deep in his shoulder. The man fell, bathe * in his blood. Flavy was about to repeat the blow. “What has he done ?” demanded several offi cers, who hastened to the spot. I “I am punishing a miscreant,” answered the 1 ferocious captain, “who closed the barrier ol the t bridge against my orders, and caused the loss of J our people outside. Let me finish this act of Jus tice.” . “The man is already dead,” said one of the offi cers, kicking the body with his foot. “Let us ra- j ther see about opening the barrier.” ] “It is too late,” cried Flavy. “ The English ( have taken advantage of this fatal delay. ( And he pointed through the bars of the barrier ( to Joan of Arc, who, with her followers, had been surrounded and made prisoners. From this day forward fresh wrinkles furrowed the care-worn forehead ot William de flavy.- His sleep was agitated, and he seemed to feel re morse—he, who had long since exercised without terror and without shame a frightful tyrrany in Compeigne, as, indeed, wherever he had com manded. He defended, however, with desperate valor the place confided to his charge, and the enemy was finally compelled to raise the seige. Charles VII., whom Joan of Arc’s example had roused for a moment from his ordinary indolence, once more sunk into his voluptuous lethargy, which La Tremoille, his favorite, shared and ap proved. The king was feasting with that gen tleman and others of his clique, when a horn was sounded before his castle-gate. A vassal entered to announce La Hire, W illiam de Flavy, and sev eral other knights and soldiers. The king gave orders for them to be admitted. “De seated at this banquet, my faithful ser vants,” cried he, “and poor as the king of Franee is, you ere welcome to it.” “ Sire,” said Flavy, with his usual bluntness, “jit is not for us to take our places by your side; but for you to place yourself at our head, for we have resolved on an expedition which you must | take the lead. We must force our way to Rouen, and recover all Normandy.” “And deliver the maiden,” added La Hire. “ And why do you want the king to do this 1” asked La Tremoille; “ why expose him useless ly ? The king will inarch to your assistance, if you are defeated.” “ Yes,” replied Flavy, with anger, “ he will re pair to the field when there are no soldiers left!— This is the advice of a trifler, to say n© more.” “ Your remonstrance is insolent,” replied La Tremoille rising. “Silence !” interposed the king. “Do not shed blood in my presence! as if heaven had not sent you enough of the English to satisfy your de structive propensities. But there is no hurry, my brave Flavy,”continued he, turning i» hia arm chair. “ No there is no hurry,” replied Flavy, “that is what you are taught to think, sire. It will be too soon for you when it is too late for us and for France. I would fain know how r the Duke of Burgundy’s court pays for the advice given to your grace here 1” ~—~ li Dare 'William de Flavy speak of treason?” said he in a subdued voice; “he, who.abandon ed Joan of Arc to the English ?” Charles VII. arose in his turn. Cries of as tonishment resounded from all present. “Yes,” resumed La Tremoille* who had ad vanced too far to retreat; “he who commanded the bridge-keeper of Compeigne to close the bar rier, and cut oft'Joan of Arc’s retreat from before the English ranks. } - “ Tne panic-stricken miscreant himself closed the barrier, in opposition to my orders,” rejoined Flavy, in an altered voice. “ But I chastised the traitor on the spot.” “i ou struc k him it is true!” retorted La Tre moilie. “ But an accomplice is more conven iently got rid of than an enemy.” “Not a word more,”cried Charles, “Theking of France cannot think that one of his compan ions in pleasure and in danger would conspire with the English against him, or against the holy maiden, the martyr to her devotion for France. The wretch who closed the barrier against her deserved death. I swear on my royal crown,that if it could be prayed that Joan of Art was foully betrayed, I would abandon the assassin to the popular turv; nay, I would forgive any accom plice were he the oflender’s son who would step forward and denounce the guilty party, though the latter was as dear to me as my own child.” “ Sire, a solemn pledge,” remarked La Tre moille. “ Let it he well remembered as deeply sworn ” replied Charles. “Bire,” rejoined William de Flavy, “permit me to challenge to mortal comboat the Sieur de la ■Tremoille, for the insult he has offered roe——an insult that only death can wipe away.” “I accept, answered La Tremoille. “ And I refuse,” said the king. “ I propose a duel that will much better revenge your honor; take the English lor your adversary, the town of Rouen lor your place of meeting, the liberty of the maiden of Orleans for the prize of victory. I will be judge of the combat, and second to you both; for I will march with you at the head of my brave army. The banquet is over. To horse. At that instant a messenger entered the apart ment, and delivered a sealed letter to the king No sooner had Charles opened it, than he let it tall in despair. “It is too late,” said he, in an inaudible voice, “the maiden has been burnt in the public market place of Rouen.” An awful silence succeeded. “ Can any punishment sufficiently cruel ” re sumed the king, a moment afterwards, “be in vented lor the man who delivered the maiden to the enemy, for the Frenchman who lighted the PUe ° f “ >iß hCTOi ‘ d °f f e r/ ) :“ h Jd’,„ r^ P ° nded a “~ and tbe betr ** OT *“ f - Sikoular ne New York session, wishing to be excused ser ving on a jury, offered as an excuse, that he could nnL 7 th T g,aSSeS five y ards from Wa own ian as there was no law to compel him to wear glasses, he considered he had a sufficient ex cuse as he could not give an enlightened verdict wj hout seeing the faces and observing the man- * ner of the witnesses. The court thought this en- ] irely invalid, as the gentleman then had his spec tacles on, and without inconvenience could keep 1 them on during the several trials; and as to there ! being no law to compel him to wear spectacles in court, it might also v ith equal propriety be urged 's fcat.th©*'* law ,t» •otttpei a jmror to is clothes in court. Being compelled to serve ie put his glisses in hi« pocket, and sat durinJ f he trial without them, and then attempted to I aise an objection to the verdict because he could r lot see. The 'court however, rebuked him f or I' lepriving himself of the means of discharging his Si luty satisfactorily as he had sworn to do, and the 1 fentleman sat down abashed. — P-hil. Ledger. “Can you tell me, my son, what a jury 0 f i n . K juest is?” “A jury of inquest are a body* 0 f nen what sits down .» n a dead man to find out whether he are dead for sartin, or am only p] a y. ing possum.”—Nero Orleans Sun. * The L ist. —There is said to be a pig i n o; n , cinnati with his ears set so far back he cannot hear himself squeal !—Nt W Orleans Picayune. Woman is the morning star of infancy, the day stqr of manhood —the evening star of age. Blesi P our stars! may we always bask in their influence I till we are sky high. J A new Buhoical Operation. — The ingen- S nuity of man will, after a while, construct human bodies entire. We read in the Louisville Gazette that Dr. Coledon, of that city, has supplied a new lower jaw to a carpenter, who lost his jaw by an accidental blow from some part of a steam engine Advertising a Wife—The editor of the Bel fast (iMe.) Republican having received a notice requesting him to advertise a man’s wife for one dollar, says: “Now be it known, the world over, i that we love women, and that we will not adver tise them for a less sum than three dollars, and that not on tick, bol cash in hand. We are un willing to disgrace a man, his wife and family at any price, but nevertheless, for three cool dollars we can be bribed to do it.” _ COMMERCIAL. Latest dates from Liverpool,.... Dec. 25 Latest dates from Havre Dec. 19 AUGUSTA MARKET. Cotton. —Since our last report on Thursday there has been an evident decline in the prices of this article. The decline has been about f of a cent per lb. on prime qualities and even more on ordi nary and middling. We now quote sto 8 cents « extremes of the market. Buyers have been per milted to make selections at tbe latter price. We quote as follows.- Ordinary, - - 5 a6] Fair, —-- - - a7| ® J Good, 7f a Prime, - --T$ a 8 Arrivals continue brisk, and planters sell, bu{ with great teluctance. Indeed, nothing but the un precedented demand for money and the impossibil ity of getting advances, could induce one out of ten of our planters to sell a bag at present prices. To this may be added tbe discouraging prospects of better price?, Macon, February U. Cotton —Prices of Cotton in this rm ’Yet have continued through tjje-iveclc about the same as qudted in curias t, viz: 5 a 7fc—-principal sales 6f a 7. The River continues beatable —with every ap pearance of its being so for sometime, judging from the showery weather. Boats arriving and depart ing every day. >' '■? Freights —To Savannah, by boats, per bale, s3s. i do by boxes, do 3 - " Mobile, February 6. The Cotton market remains in the same unsettled state as noticed yesterday. Buyers evince no de position to take hold unless at prices considerably lower than the current asking rates—sales for the last three days may be computed about 2000 has been ~7 ~ ‘ ‘freight changes for the last two days in «• ed for some time, though there has been bufT old ' 1 ifanyaltor-ation in rates. Yesterday there was\ 1 brisk demand forNew Orleans funds and a lar*e amount (sight checks) was disposed ol at 31 a 4 1 “ e a ; VtP day s S ht bills onN York, f* 3 ’ days _ at a "5 per cent premium; sales of Specie at 6 a per cent premium. rwA™, a- . New Orleans, February 5. Cotton-—Arrived since the 31st ultimo .- ol Lou- , S. a a*? K Vllssl f, 1 fP i 15 > 14 ° Tennessee and a™ l / £ ba ™ a 11 1**.'Arkansas 212, together, 16,- \ finale 8 —cleared m the same time.- for Liverpool 6308 bales, Kavre 4222, Trieste 1431, Antwerp 250 ,N York 580, Boston 2703, Phi t bales—making are inclusivcnf ° bales > and leaving on hand, mst, a stock of It 7,214 bales. at J, be dul,ness wbic h pervaded the cotton market hL la J ° f c,OSin g our re Poit of Saturday mom ! hit was succeeded by a more active inquiry on Z 5 an l ab °« t 5000 were disposed of at D n *7 ter f )lj ’ var y*iig from Uiose belore cur rent. On Monday the demand was more moderate; and tne .sales, which amounted to 3500 bales, were nr.rh* V re ® u^ar and ra lher drooping prices, though , dAhr trap ;?P ired tha t would go to establish any llle * 1 esterda y, notwithstanding that Pre s ented a very tranquil appearance, about 3200 bales changed hands ; and, as there was no essential variation in prices, we therefore con tinue our previous quotations. The stock oh sale con inues pietty large, but the greater portion of it, S ,,,f re c t ore , is composed of the lower qualities. i io dur l n g the three days amount to neat ly 12,000 bales. LIVERPOOL CLASSIFICATIONS. and Mississippi —Ordinary, 6f a 6|; Middling, 7i a Fair, 9 a 9i ; Good fair, 10 a loj; Goo I and fine, llfa —. Tennessee nndN. Alaba ma—Ordinary, middling, fair, good fair, good and fine, 6f a 10, extremes. STATEMENT OF COTTON. “ 1839. Oct. 1, stock on hand, 15824 Receipts last three days ' 16470 " previously, 438469 454939 ~ 470763 j Exports last three days, 16865 previously, 346654 363549 Stock on hand 107214 Sugar Louisiana— The receipts have been large duimg the last three days, while the demand has been more limited than for some time past, and the consequence has been the accumulation of a heavy stock on the Levee. VVe now quote 3| a 4jc as the lair range of the market, but remark that prime sugars are not plenty, and that, occasionally, a small parcel of very choice commands sc. Wc un derstand that several sales have taken place on Plantation, but are unable to give, with certainty, the particulars of but two, viz; 400 hhds at 4c,and 100 hhds choice at 4^c. Molasses —The supply on the Levee continues rather limited, and a further advance is obtained ■rt?> r barrets in good order. We now quote at 22 a 23c per gal. We are advised of but two transac tions on plantation, since our last, viz: 25,000 gals at 15c and 40,000 at 16c. Flour— At the closing of our report of Saturday last, we remarked that the holders of parcels in good order for shipment were demanding $5 00 per su P? rtm e- This advance caused shippers to withdraw liom the market fora day or two.buton Monday’ they came forward and paid that price for some parcels. esterday the market was in a very unsettled state, several flat boats having arrived during the morning, with some 5000 to 6000 bbls, receipts, since our last reports, f«Hy *44o!»i ’ Sales were made, in some instances, at $4 87£, while in others $5 are said to have been refused for considerable parcels. The latter offers, however, weie on time, far shipment, while the sa * es a * $4 were for cash. We quote at $4 ass foe superfine, and remark that the comse.which