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GEORGIA COURIER. 7. a. HTWHORTEft Hssruir MEALING, PUBLISHERS. Ttrm§,—Thin Pap^r is puhiUlicd every Monday and 'I’hursdav afternoon, at $5 00 per annum, payable in ad- *n«irr, or $0 00 at the expiration of the year. T-T Advertisements not exceeding a square, inserted the r irstTi ne or G2 1-2 cents, and 43 3-4 cents for each con- wi nuance. FOR XIIE GEORGIA COURIER, THE VICTIMS 07 IMPETUOSITY. . (Continued.) I was aroused from this repose by Fran cis, who was now ready to proceed with more composure. “ Y«.h have seen Cecilia,” he said, “ as I last described her in all the loveliness of beauty, innocence and inlelligence, Such a woman can never fail to have admirers, and accordingly, there were many gentle men who were' particular in their atten tions. As I knew that I had already gained a place iu her affections, I had too high an opinion of hereto entertain a doubt of her constancy. My knowledge of her character convinced me, that her affections would not be lightly bestowed, but that when she did bestow them, they tfould not be inconsiderately withdrawn or transferred. Most of my rivals, or ra ther of those, who aspired to a rivalship in Cecilia’s affections, were young men ; and, although the attentions of some were particularly assiduous, yet her slightest assurance of continued affection, or even a look, dispelled every doubt in its incipi- ency;—if, indeed, 1 could be said to en tertain a doubt—f, who was all composure and devotion. Her conduct to all her visitors was uniformly the same; she was affable, polite, and equally attentive to all ; yet, my hfeart sometimes told me that her sweet, furtive glances were intended to evince a preference for me. Jealousy, it is said, is the inseparable companion of ardent love ; but when" love is founded upon long-tried intimacy and the most so lid esteem, jealousy must be banished from the mind. The more I saw of Ce cilia, the more observant I was of her cha racter, her conduct and manner—the deeper was the enchantment wrought a- bout my heart; and I became more de lighted, that so angelic a creature had deigned to bestow her heart upon one, fl^jo felt and acknowledged his inferiority. Among Cecilia’s admirers, there was a Mr. Dugalf, who had been an inhabitant -"f our village for about twelve months, .and with whom I had contracted some de gree of intimacy,. He appeared to be a man of honorable and gentlemanly feel ings, and I held him in the highest estima tion. He had seen much of the world ; but instead of being distinguished hv the forward manner commonly acquired by travelling, he was rrtnarkable for modes ty. His information and reading were extensive ; and intelligence, a fine person and easy manners were all combined in bis character. He was highly esteemed by Cecilia, and even made formal propo sitions of marriage, which were politely, though decidedly declined. Soon after he professed a great fiiendship for me, and disclosec^ the secret of his rejected address. He always spoke of her with the greatest tenderness and respect, and frequently said, that if it were possible for him, to regard her ns no longer the abso lute mistress of his heart, he must-ever esteem her as a valued friend. I inform ed him of the engagement existingbetween myself and Cecilia, and he congratulated me most cordially upon niv happy lot..— Ho pretended tp be surprised at the in- forma ion, siatimr ihat although he tho’t she had a partiality for me, lie had not the smallest idea of an engagement, else he the to leave you and Cecilia, forever. No motives but those of friendship,—yes, friendship rpost ardent and sincere, could induce me to say what I now intend. I do it for your future welfare; ■for I cannot, I will not allow my frien.d to be so egre- giously imposed upon.” “ Imposed upon ! Who dares to use such an expression iQ reference to Cecilia Reminson. What, sir, do j’ou mean.— Know that I am her friend—her lover.” “ Nay, then, I will not proceed : enjoy if you can your future pleasures—I will rejoice to see you happy. As you are offended at the freedom of one who es teems you, he .will say nothing more.— FarewellJ” Oh do not leave me in this horrible sus pense. Tell me, I beseech you, what you know that should prevent the union on which depends my happiness.” “ He hesitated, and attempting to quiet my agitation, but this only tended to in crease it. My emotion was so violent and inconsolable, that I importuned him even on my knees ; and while in this situ ation, in the extremity of my fears and anxiety, he dared—yes, the villain dared, to impeach the virtue of Cecilia !—to utter against her fair name, the foulest and most diabolical slander! “ Great God ! not the most outrageous of my subsequent paroxisms, since reason has been partially extinct, can compare with the phrenzied tumult of my boiling blood, at the moment. I leaped upon the vile defamer, with desperate courage, and as I bore him to the ground, one less pow erful and active would have certainly fal len a victim to my rage. He, however, succeeded in releasing his neck from my stifling grasp, and in throwing me off. As ,, , . • , ... he arose, I perceived the hilt of a dagger | that . nolh,n ? e | se couId ha T, e in his bosom, and, although he too endea- A anger or discontent; but new, more charm was broken. The brighter her more smile, the innocent her manners, the charming her beauty, the greater was the crime of such unhallowed defamation. I thought of her accomplishments, of her exalted beauty, above all, of her modesty and spotless purity, until I was lost in the enthusiasm of .admiration; I knew that she was “ Chaste as the icicle, That’s curded by the frost, from purest/now, And ha&gs on Dian's Temple And then the thought of the worse than hellish malice, that had attempted to pol lute the name of such a being, returned wiih redoubled force, upon ray heated imagination. ‘‘ The crime of the first enemy of man kind, who seduced Eve from her duty, and thereby brought “death into' the world and all our woes,” seemed a trivial offence, when compared with the enor mous sacrilege of this inveterate defamer. Scarce did it appear to me a greater crime to have raised the open standard of rebel lion and insult, against heaven’s high ma jesty, than to have dared to utter a doubt of Cecilia’s virtue. “ The thought wa$ maddening and in creased the violence of my agitations. I would have turned and avoided the be loved place, fearing to pollute its sanctity by such passion, and still more by the presence of one, who had heard so lately the vile slander, and had not succeeded in bringing down upon its author’s head, de served vengeance. But I could not turn, this very violence, the reflections of Ce cilia pushed me involutarily forward, with an irresistable impulse. Did I believe in fixed and unalterable predestination, I never would h ive been willing to give her the pain of refusing him. “ Ho had long, he said, endeavored to repress his sentiments of affection for her, but his ill success showed too plainly, that ¥ would be impossible, as long as he re mained so near her. He therefore deter mined to leave the village, in the hope of regaining tranquillity of mind.. “ The morning for his departure arriv ed. He excused, himself from taking leave el Cecilia, by saying that he felt unable to stand the shock of a parting in terview, more especially as he knew it could give her nothing hut pain. He commissioned me, however, to offer his most devoted respects, and to assure her that it was anv thing, hut want of respect, that withheld him from paying a parting visit. When he was ready to depart, he requested mo to walk with him a short distance ; his servant led his horse, and as it was a pleas *nt morning, we proceeded some distance together. . During the walk several expressions were made use of by him, which gave mo great uneasiness; but coming, ns I thought, from a friend,. I eh- endeavored io give them the most favor able construction, and took no particular notice of them. We arrived at a spring two miles from the village, where I intend ed to leave him. We seated ourselves upon a rock, while the horses stopped some distance on t he road. “ You are engaged,” said Dugalt, “to Cecilia Reminson. Can you allow a friend to tell you that he is extremely sor ry for it. Do not interrupt me—I speak only as your friend : I assure you that no motives of jealousy, now influence me ; and it I thought that I could be influenced by such motives, I would without hesita tion stop the subject. Yet, Francis, be lieve me when I say that you must not mnrrv Cecilia/’ “Sir, I cannot understand this lan- guige; explain yourself. Never before have I heard such sentiments from you.” “ I know,” he answered, “ more than von can possibly have an idea of. I have concealed mv sentiments, until now, for I could not bring myself voluntarily to de stroy your happiness,. New I am about vored to seize it, I caught it first ; but in the struggle, he escaped from mv hands and ran with the utmost speed of fear, to his horse. I pursued him on the wings of anger and revenge, but was too late to overtake him, before he mounted and fled. As soon as he thought himself beyond my reach, he turned for a moment towards me, and with a fiendish laugh, seemed to rejoice, with more than the malice of a daemon, overlhe ruin he had occasioned. Without considering the folly of the pur suit, I followed him, even after he had entirely disappeared ; ihen I stepped, to bring down the most dreadful maledictions upon his head. Oh, that I gould then have overtaken him in the most deserved revenge 1 I raised the dagger I had ta ken from him in the air, and swore to sully its liistre in his blood, if ever again the villain should cross my path. I then turned twards the village, but ns. I found my agitation did not subside, I left the road to wander in the woods, in the hope ot concealing and soothing my furious passions. I could not bear the thought, that the adventure should be known ; for the name of Cecilia was too intimately connected with all my ideas of the most spotless purity to be coupled with that of so base a defamation. That even the tongue of demoniac envy had dared to whisper a word, in derogation of her un sullied repulation, was more than I could be willing to have known. “ For a long, time I walked brooding over the occurrences of the morning, and meditating the pleasure of revenge, if ever the recreant, who had so egregiouslv im posed himself upon me as a friend, and who now had attempted to strike mv hap- piness in a point far dearer than my life, should dare to show, in my presence his hated form. But never—oh, not for a moment, did the thought occur, that what he had spoken might be true. The idea, had it been entertained, would have made me sheath in my own bosom, the dagger I intended for Dugall’s. Chance directed my steps to a beautiful spot, on the banks of the neighboring stream, which had long been one of my most lavored retreats, for there I fre quently walked with Cecilia. The wild flowers looked more beautiful, because thay were trained and attended by the delicate hand which had, in a manner, in structed them to bloom. Their fragrance was sweeter, their arrangement more neat and agreeable, and their appearance more pleasing, because she deigned to cultivate them and to intermingle the more delicate garden plants. These, I thought a fit emblem of her polished man ners, graceful mien, and elegant accom plishments, blooming amidst the luxuriant wildness and freedom of nature, and shed ding upon every thing around, a portion of their sweetness and beauty. When her presence enlivened the scene, the con trast between her delicate appearance and the tvild scenery, was like the lilies she had planted, cheering and adorning the more rude beauty of the natives of the sail. It was a spot consecrated to the purest friendship and the most ardent af fection, and endeared by the most delight ful associations of my happies Imomeuis.— In short, it was here, I leaped into the flood below, to save Cecilia from its fury ; here, her gratitude had erected, in com memoration of that event, a most lovely bower ; it was here, that she heard my declaration of eternal love ; and here, ! first listened with raptqre, to her confes sion of a return of my affection. “ I never approached it without feel ings of reverence and respect, which .dif fused a soothing,. delightful melancholy over nay mind. If I was agitated or dis composed by any occurrence, no matter haw s irious, the persuasive influence of this enchanted spot, was always sufficient to calm the violence of mv emotions. I hoped that now, when this effect was more than ever needed, it would not be want ing. But no! the sweet associations of the magic bower, could not allay the vio lence of •my passion. All these asSbcia- tions were inseparably connected with Cecilia, and now a bold and villanous blasphemer had dared to couple that ifime with guilt aud ter pollute the holiest, purest of beings, with the imputation of disgrace! Before this, her dear idea wa* sufficient to dispel in a moment, the darkest cloud forced me on, in opposition to my will, and when every feeling seemed to recoil, with strange aversion to a place common ly so beloved. “ I canto in sight of the bower, and perceived Cecilia reading with her usual calm and tranquil air. How was I struck with the contrast between her sweet se renity and the boiling turbulence of my passions. I found that 'I was observed by her, and determined to retire. A mo ment I lingered to gaze on her beloved form, and then turned to leave her to her peace of mind. I had gone a fetv steps when my attention was caught by a noise in the direction of fee bower. I turned again, and what was my astonishment and indignation at seeing in the road, a horse I took to be that of the base Dugalt.— Fearful that his malice was about to ex tend even so far as to insult Cecilia, I hastily approached the bower; I saw Cecilia in the arms of a man ! I saw no more; I heard no more: Revenge, jea- lousy,. insulted love, rushed to my mind, in a confused mass, as I looked upon the embraces she received from him I thought her deftmer. Fierce as ten furies, I rushed.upon him, and the dagger I had that morning consecrated to the death of Cecilia’s traducer, was in a moment bu-- tied to the hilt in his body. As I aimed the fatal blow, a loud shriek from Cecilia was the only intimation he received of his fate, and as lie sunk upon the ground, I saw the utmost horror and despair de picted in her countenance as she raised her eyes and clenched hands to heaven, and exclaimed, in all the agony of her sudden bereavement, Oh, my brother! Oh, my dear brother ! (To be Continued.) COMMUNICATED. The following extract from the writings of Fenelon, may, if read, and properly considered by the American people, be of some service to them in making choice of ;heir next President. When the people of Crete were as sembled together for the purpose of elect ing a King, to succeed Idomeneus, whom they had banished, several questions were propounded bv the Judges, to the Candi dates, among which was the following, viz: “ ‘ Which of the two ought to be pre ferred, a King who is invincible in war ; or a King who, without any experience in war. could administer civil government, wife great wisdom, in a time of peace V “ The majority determined this question in favour of the warrior; for skill to govern in a time of peace, said they, will be of but little use, if the king cannot defend his country in a time of war, since he will himself be divested of his authority, and his people will become slaves to the ene- my. Others preferred the pacific prince, because, as he would have more to fear irom a war, he would be more careful to avoid it; but they were answered, that the achievements, of a conqueror would not only increase his own glo^ but the glory of his people, to whom he would subjugate many nations ; but that, under a pacific government, quiet api security would degenerate into cowardice and sloth.” One of the candidates expressed him self as follows: “ Although he, who can only govern either in peace or in war, is but half a king; yet the prince who, by his sagacity, can discover the merit of others, and can defend his coun try when it is attacked, if not in person, yet bv his generals, is, in my opinion, to be preferred before him - who knows no art but that of war : a prince, whose ge nius is entirely military, will leyy endless wars to extend his dominions, and ruin his people to add a new title to his name. If the nation, which he now governs, is un happy, what is it to them how many more he conquers ? A' foreign war, long comi- nued, cannot fail of producing disorder at home: the manners of the victors them selves become corrupt during the general confusion. How much has Greece suf fered by the conquest of Troy ? she was more than ten years deprived of her kings ; and wherever the flame of war is nity, agriculture is neglected, and tlie sciences are forgotten. No nation was ever governed by a conqueror, that did not suffer by his ambition. The victorious and the van quished are involved almost in the same ruin, while the king grows giddy amidst the tumult of a triumph. As he is utter ly ignorant of the arts of peace, he knows not how to derive any popular advantages from a successful war; he is like a man, that not only defends his own field, but forcibly takes possession of his neigh bour’s, yet can neither plough nor sow, and, consequently, reaps the harvest from neitriir: he seems born, not to diffuse happiness among his subjects by a wise and equitable government, but to fill the world with violence, tumult, and desola tion. ‘ As to the pacific prince, if be is perfect ly qualified for peaceful government, these very qualifications will secure his subjects against the encroachments of an enemy : his justice, moderation, and quietness, ren der him a good neighbour ; he engages in no enterprize that can interrupt the peace subsisting between him and other states; and he fulfils all his engagements with a religious exactness; he is, therefore, re garded by his allies rather with love than fear, aud they trust him with unlimited confidence. If any restless, haughty, and ambitious, power should molest him, all the neighboring princes will interpose in his behalf, bacause from him they ap prehend no attempt against their own •quiet, but have every thing to fear from his enemy. His steady justice, impar tiality, and public faith, render him the arbiter of all the kingdoms that surround his own ; and while the enterprises of am bition make the warrior odious, and the common danger unites the world against him, a glory, superior to that of conquest, comes unlooked for, to the friends of peace, on whom the eyes of every other potentate are turned with reverence and affection, as the father, and guardian of them all. These are his advantages abroad, and those at home, are yet more considerable. If he is qualified to govern in peace, it follows that he must govern by the wisest of laws: he must restrain parade and luxury, he must suppress eve ry art which can only gratify vice, and he must encourage those which supply the necessaries of life, especially agriculture, to which the principal attention of the people must be turned. Whatever is ne cessary, must then become abundant, and the people, being inured to labor, simple in their manners, habituated to live upon a little, and therefore easily gaining a subsistence from the field, will multiply without end. This king dom then, will soon become extremly po pular ; and the people will become health ful vigorous and hard}’, not effeminate bv luxury, but veterans in virtue; not sla vishly attached to a life of voluptuousness and indolence, but free in a magnanimous contempt of death, and ebusing rather to die, than to lose the many privileges which they enjoy under a prince who reigns on* Iv as the substitute of reason. If a. neigh boring conqueror should attack such a people as this, he might probably find ■ icm unskilful in marking out a camp, ■orming the order of battle, and man aging the unwieldy engines of destruc tion that are used in a siege; but he would find them invincible in their num bers, their courage, their patience of fa tigue, and their habit of enduring hard ship, the impetuosity of attack, and the perseverance of that virtue which disap pointment cannot subdue. Besides, if their prince is not himself qualified to command his torces, he may substitute such persons as he knows to be equal to the trust, and use them as instruments, without giving up his authority: succors may be obtained from his allies ; his sub jects will rather perish than become the slaves of injustice and oppression, and the Gods themselves will fight in his be half. Thus will the pacific prince be sustained, when his danger is most immi nent; and therefore, I conclude, that though his ignorance in the art of war, is an imperfection, since it disables to exe cute one of the principal duties of his sta- t’on, yet he is infiuitel v superior to a king who is wholly unacquainted with civil government, and knows no art, but that of war.” Many of the assembly were of a differ ent opinion - -Mankind, dazzled by the false lustre of victories and triumphs, prefer the tumult and show of successful battle, to the quiet simplicity of peace, and the intrinsic advantages of good go vernment. But tire Judges declaredlie had spoken the sentiments of wisdom and truth, and decreed the crown tp him. INTERESTING LETTER. To the editors of the Richmond Enquirer. . . Liverpool. July 2, 182J. Gentlemen :—This country has been for 12 months laying the foundation of a commercial war with the United States, which can be terminated on just terms only by a united and energetic resistance, and a prompt adoption and a faithful enforce ment of countervailing measures; whatev er neglect or oversight the President of the U. States may have been guiltv of on the West India Question,and whether he has, or has net, been guilty of neglect, I hate not the means here to determine; but be this as it may, our country’s honor and her interest requires that we should rally round our government, and present a urfted front to England, upon this sub ject. The contest has been shrouded with too thin a veil by Mr. Canning, in his own correspondence with Mr. Gallatin, to conceal frqp the view of any unprejudiced man his real object. When England, in 1815, opened her W. India Islands on certain conditions, to the whole world, she was sincere, and if we had accepted her condition^, we would have placed her in rather an awkward dilemma, as, in 1826, she determined to change her policy, but she would have found means to evade the arrangement, as she did to get over a stip- kinc/ed; the taws are violated with impu- ulated and plighted engagement to nego tiate upon the subject. She roatta a pos itive engagement to settle the matter by negociation in 1824; and in 1826, she as positively declined to negociate at all res pecting it, and that too, without giving any other reason than is contained in Mr. Canning’s flippant and impertinent remark that “Ac would pot allow himself to be drawn into the discussion of a subject that had already been exhausted—To which be subsequently added in the House of Commons, the empty and frothy boast, that he had had the last word. After this let no man in America suppose, that Eng land was, in 1826 disposed to arrange the trade with us upon equitable terms ; and 4hat its non-arrangement grew out of our non-acceptance of the terms offered by their act of 1815. The truth is, in i826, they found their reciprocity system of commerce did not work as well as they expected, and they determined to retrace their steps, as far as they could,with decen cy.To this ministers were the more prompt ly forced by the clamors of the shipping interests—clamors to be sure unfounded but still not less loud on th® account,— They ascribed all the depreciation in the value of their shipping and their profits to Mr. Huskisson’s reciprocity system, in stead of ascribing it to overtrading in eigh teen hundred and twenty-five, by the buil ding of a superfluous number of vessels, and the general derangement of trade in 1S26. But to return to the W. India Question—This Government has just passed a bill through Parliament which authorises the Inland introduction from the U. S. into Canada free of duty, ashes staves and lumber of every description, horses, r ~esh provisions, <fcc. &c. and that the articles so admitted into Canada shall be deemed to be Canadian produce, and shall be admitted into England, and into the W. Indies as such. The operation of this bill will be, if we allow the intercourse to continue between Canada and the U- nite I States, to give to British shipping the entire carrying trade of such Ameri can articles as they may bo abletc receive through Canada. Board staves from the United States received through that chan nel, will pay a duty here of only Zl, per 1200—but if imported directed from the United States they w ill have to pay* Zll 10s-—the duty before this bill passed was 13 16s 8 on American staves coming di rect. United States ashes coming through Canada, are admitted here free of duty ; if they come direct they pay a duty of 6s per cwt; wheat from the United States is entirely prohibited, from Canada it is ad mitted at a duty of 5s. per quarter; thus the Canadians may ship all tbeirown grain, and supply themselves with cheap bread from the United States. By these tegulations this government expects to cripple the navigation of fee United States, of which it feels groat Jen! ousy, and at tho same- time Wove its own a policy which Mr, Huskisson has in debate admitted to be the policy of Eng-and, and in this policy we find the tt ue secret connected with the West In dia question. lie argues, I mean Mr Huskisson, that if the trade be opened to us on equal terms, from our commercial activity and contiguity, we will secure the whole of it, and thereby much increase our commercial marine. Therfc is now scarcely any article with the exception of cotton produced in the U. States, that coming direct to this coun try is not taxed to almost a prohibitory amount. The value of Tobacco is about 4d and the duty on it is 3s per lb.; the value of Rice is ISs and the duty on Amer ican Rice is 15s per cwt whilst it is admit ted from the East Indies at a duty of only 5s. Our cotton is so necessary to the very existence of the people in feis sec tion of England, that it pays a duty of only 6 per cent, but their dependence upon us for this article begins to alarm them ; out of the consumption of about 600,000 bales- whicli is the present estimated consump tion of this country, they use about 400 - 000 bales of United States growth ; they are, however, now looking round to ascer tain in what way they can, upon good terms, obtain this supply from other coun tries, so as to make them less dependent upon a for an article that is of such vital importance to {hem. If we were now suddenly to cut off the supply 0 f cotton from our country, it would create a rebel lion in theirs. We cannot blame them for attempting to avert such an .evil—an evil that I confess I would, in common with themselves, deplore. But if it should take place it would be of their owu creat ing. VVe disclaim monopoly o c ever description ; but whilst we do so we d_ not disclaim a resistance of an attempt te> monoplize the corafnerce of the world. The cultivation of Tobacco has, here tofore, been prohibited in this country. A removal of the prohibition was sugges ted the other night id fee House of Lords and if they do remove it, I think they will be able to cultivate it with considerable suc cess. The greatest produce of Tobacco to the acre that I ever saw in my life was in Holland, a climate, I think, by no means better adapted to its growth than this is. When I commenced I did not mean to trouble you with so long a letter, but I h.ope you will excuse it, as well as the scrawl, if you can read it, and be assured of the regard with which I remain. Your most ob’t serv’t —iC»i" The facetious editor of the Darien Ga zette appears to experience more than.his share of the ills that ‘man is heir so.* The following ‘ distracting accident’ is from his paper of Tuesday last. “ The circumstances are as follows— On-Sunday last as the Editor’s boy Davy, was bringing the Editor his dinner in a calabash, consisting of peas soup and a pig’s ear, a squall of wind struck him and upset the calabash on his head, & the con tents over his back. Thus in one unlucky moment, was our editor deprived of his hard earned dinner. Miss Burnpins, who witnessed the accident, is of the opin ion the boy would have been scalded if the soup had been hot.’ Chgrketgn Courier, AUGUSTA. THURSDAY, SEPT. 20, 1827. ft/ 8 * The Sexton, for the week ending yesterday, has no death occurring iD the city to report, One person, dying in the country, was brought to the city for in. terment. JOHN MARSHALL, Sexton. It is with no ordinary feelings we an. nounce the death of a truly good man 1 MATTHEW TALBOT. —- The fall of such a man, at any time, a well calculated to produce feelings ci poignant regret; but to be thus cut off in the brightness of his prospects—on the eve uf an interesting election, in which he was a prominent candidate—to have the eager hopes of sa large a circle of friends thus blasted, has excited a sensation of sorrow, deep and universal. Persona enemies he had none: and his political opponents mixed with their opposite, none of the gall of bitterness. Their sen. sations do justice to his memorv. He died on the n/ght of the 17th inst. about 10 o’clock, of the fatal -disease which has recently terminated the earthly career of so many of the citizens of Wilkes “ Weed his grave clean, ye men of good, ness, for he was your brother.” On the night of the 16th inst. the House of Mr. B. Mims, 4 miles from Augusta, on the main road to Culumbia, S. C. was consumed to ashes. Mr. Mims had just completed the building for-a public house and moved into it. He fost all.his furni ture ; and himself, family and guests es caped with difficulty from the conflagration, George R. Gilmer, of Oglethorpe, is announced as a candidate to fili Colonel Tatnall’s vacancy in Congress. We recommend to our readers the ex- tract from Fenelon, selected by a respect* ed friend for the Courier. We copied sometime since the state-'# merit from tile Savannah Republican, that Cca. Jackson, if elected, would go out of office, like the other Presidents, in the 66th year cl nrs age. 1 bis is a mistake Gen. Jackson is now over that age, being between 63 and 70. We receive this in formation from an old gentleman, who was me associate of his youth# ant! grew up to manhood in the same neighborhood. That old gentleman is now 64, and the/ General is several years his senior.— “ Signs” are apt to fail in dry weather The administration of fee first dose t. our inend of the Savannah Republican, has had a much more drastic effect upon him than we expected. Excitability, it seems, has been merely slumbering in his system, and required only the slightest stimulation to awake it into a blaze of fury. We would have prescribed a sma!- ler dose, if we had been acquainted with his peculiar idiosyncracy. “ Tartar eme tic" we remember to have hoard, is rank poison to some stomachs, and affects the whole system with spasms. We regret it has produced such symptoms in our “ Re- put lican” friend; for although'we have not been near enough to feel the tremors of his pulse, it is very evident his teeth have been clenched, if his eyes have not been set. Cold water we have s'een used tc loosen the jaws of fighting dogs, and as- °' e believe it is an excellent antispasmo- die in all cases of high excitement, if the- symptoms have not abated by the timo our prescription arrives at his office, wc earnestly Recommend to him its use both externally and internally. While the Republican is recovering I* fr° m its late unpleasant situation, we will take our leisure, and prepare carefully the future potions, with which we intend either to eradicate JacJcsonism in him, or prevent the disease from being caught by others. He has so lately contracted the disease, that we hope its, virus has not yet reached the vital parts. We will in due time administer such antidotes from his own columns as will repress the tendency of the disorder to increase, until such a crisis arrives as shall present a favorable opportunity to crush it altogether by one bold stroke of practical skill. But apart from jesting, if the republican chooses ta consider the foregoing in that light, has he brass enough in “ blood or bone,” to say he “ never wroto aught a- gainst the gallant old General, and~ that the files of the Republican will bear him out in the asseveration 1” Does the Re publican remember any thing like the fol lowing on his own files, or those of his friends, whose present are as much at va riance with their former opinions as his “ Of nil the candidates, he (General JhcJcson) is doubtless the least qualified to discharge the responsible duties of this high office.' 1 “ Georgia owes him (Gen 1 1 Jackson/ nothin®—has amply K and more than