Newspaper Page Text
• y->
EOKGIA COURIER.
• ?. g. M’Wizor^sn
xssisrmr ^salxng,
i i
8 • PUBLISHERS.
fi
|Vrtrm*.-—This Paper i' published every Monday and
|§iml*y af.ernoon, ut $5 U) p«»r annum. payable in ad-
! nee, or $6 00 at the expiration of the year,
i jju* Advertisements not exceeding a square, inserted the
ijitti.de or 62 1-2 cent*, and 43 3-1 ceuta lor each con-
advancing with an
the dear, unconscious creature, ’hat hung j withdrawn,
so despairingly on my arm, into the pre- -a nccs of my parents
sence of her parents ; the horror visible expression of solicitude I c <>» »°
in their countenances cannot be conceiv- l prehend. As I raised mv hann o •
ed. But, oh ! how was their horror in- ! I noticed with surprise that it P._
creased, when to tlu>ir anxious inquiries,
• , r.i ' / AI reflections upon public mon and political
and by -the anxious counted“ would be earned^fidl)J > A parties . It evinces their penetration in-
■' *- ,ho n ’ o,i,e! a,,d s?n " 155 "
_ ^ __ 1-^ #U« nrnrn
I answered with an effort of despair, that
George was murdered—that I w/is his
wretched murderer.
and emaciated ; they eagerly caught it in
theirs and called mv name. I answered
them as usual; a burst of pleasure and
joyful tears accompanied their earnest re-
J . i i 4 /~t J .I.tli air «nn bnRW
FOR TIIE GEORGIA COURIER.
THE
jr;CTI3VT3 CT X’J&FET^OSXTiT.
PART III.
icncti rnuruerer. , , , . .
The first impulse of a father’s anguish j turn of thanks to God, that their son *ne
was to crush the guilty assassin of his son, i them once more.
( Continued.)
•• What then were the feelings of tiie
!/retch who had caused all this despair!
; Petrified with horror, I remained, while
jf^ecilia’s embraces of her brother—her
fiiercing, agonizing cries, penetrated like
1 daggers to my heart. I snatched the
uoignard reeking from the bosom of
George, warm with the life’s blood of my
friend, and the next moment would have
pound it sheathed in my miserable heart,
bad nm Cecilia interposed. VViih a sud-
den effort and most unexpected energy,
! 'she seized my hand, just as I was aiming
:i the How. Oh, that the struggle had then
i ended ;—would that then my death could
jjJiavc been occasioned by the same band,
jifhat bereft Cecilia of her brother. But it
igwas otherwise ordered; and, when she
jjsnatched the dagger from iny murderous
||l hand and cast it whirling, into the stream
■ below, she spoke with such an air of ma
jestic grief and powerful dignity that, vil*
j lain that I was, I never shall forget, and
j can never disobey, though it cost me ten
1 thousand living deaths.
J “ Live,” said she, “live miserable man,
and atone for year crime by repentanee.
1 command you to live by the love you
once bore for mo. A bereaved sister
commands you to live.”
“ Neither of us bad sufficiently recov*
ered f/om the first shock of despair, to
j assist the unfortunate George ; but as a
hope darted simultaneously through our
j,j minds, we immedietely endeavored to
fl staunch the blood, that flowed so freely
j from his wound. I ran to procure water,
f to moisten his hands and face, and bring
jj iKtck, if possible, the fading spark of life,
jj Oh, heaven! what was the tumultuous
: rapture in my breast, when after many
| trials, we succeeded in eliciting some ap-
jfearance of remaining animation. When
I he opened his eyes, I fell upon my knees,
and, if ever sincere and heartfelt thanks
were offered by human being, before the
throne of the’ invisible Almighty, mine
were sincere that George was not yet
and
and I bowed in submission, joyfully a-
waiting the stroke that was to end a iife
of misery. Perhaps the hand of his pa
rent would that moment have avenged the
-blood of George, but Cecilia threw her
self before him and besought him to re
frain. Since we left her brother s corse,
she appeared totally unconscious of sur
rounding circumstances, but now suddenly
returning to animation and intelligence,
she caught the hand of her father, just as
he was about to inflict deserved ven
geance.
“ Oh ! my father.” she cried, “ spare
him !—forgive him ! I have seen a bro
ther murdered, and shall I the same day
see my father a murderer'? Oh ! restrain
your anger. The carse of your dear son
lies still neglected in the wood ; but even
before you attend to his last solemn rites,
“Know you!” said I, “has it ever
happened that I have not known you ?
Can I ever forget you?” •
“Ah,” answered my mother, “you
have not known us for so long a time, that
If Mr. Buchanan did make the propo
sition, there is nothing in the conversation
with Mr. Markley to justify any proposi
tion from Mr. Clay, or the designation of
him as the friend of Mr. Clay ; nor is the
necessity perceived of exposing a friend
by interposing him between the public
and himself, or of disclosing a familiar
and casual conversation, and violating the
freedom of socialintercourse. Mr. Mark-
lev is placed in the foreground of the
picture, and every thing is referred to him
and allthe treason is made to issne from
his mouth. He is consulted like an ora-
° f ‘"whT"tavc I been delirious? What hoard amor.g othm rumors, that General
^Twir r nquested to compose myself; for tho success of the Geaeral, and “sen-
and ml faK informed n o that three sible (as he says) that nothing could be
mlthTjd chpL since 1 leaped too I - be,,cm calcuU.ed
the river, and that, during the whole time,! friends, and inspire
uot a moment’s intermission had been per- ‘ confidence
ceived of my insanity. ”1 he recollection
AUGUSTA.
of former events then returned slowly to
my mind ; but it was not until returning
meinorv referred me to the lovely image
of Cecilia: not until I had for a moment
' the
I entreat you by your love to your yet . , h „
remaining child, and by the wish of intensely gazed upon her P« rtr "' t ’ lhe _
George’s dying breath, to forgive his smiling emblem of my love, which I a
n urderer. Ohtprom.se that you will for- ways wore about my neck, that hes rcco -
him, and that you will never, never lection of my crime flashed with elect c
* * rapidity Jicross my brain, and snowed mo
at once the whole story of misfortune and
give
reveal the name of the murderer. I know
that some dreadful accident, some fatal,
horrible mistake has occasioned the deed.
Speak my father, and you also my dear
mother/ say (hat no person shall ever
know that Francis is a murderer.
“ They could not resist, the request
was so earnest ; her manner and attitude
so imposing ; her voice so^ solemn and
impressive ; her recovery from apparent
insanity, so sudden and affecting above
all, their love for her so great, that they
pledged themselves to be secret, even
without allowing me to explain the cir
cumstances of the dreadful deed.
“And you, Francis,” resumed Cecilia,
“ I charge you never again to disclose the
secret, to the danger of your life or your
reputation ; but, to the last moment of
your life, let it be buried in your bosom.
“ I explained, as fully as my harrowed
feelings would allow, the occasion of my
conduct, and the agitation of my feelings,
which amounted to little less than insanity.
Notwithstanding the grief, into which my
fatal deed had thrown the family of Mr.
Retninson, they all gene, ally declared
that they were persuaded I partook in as
great a degree as themselves in the mis
fortune, and that it afforded some consola
tion that I was not involved in the guilt
of deliberate murder.
“ We proceeded to bring the body to
the village, accompanied bv a crowd of
sympathizing and curious villagers. 1 hey
dead, and my prayers were anxious aim - u / a f ew weeks to have mot the
pure that his wound might not prove mor- I ... >- ««
Tal. Our continued exertions restored
-him, so far as to enable him to speak, but
his first words dispersed at once, all our
hopes.
“ Oh ! Cecilia," h<? said with a faint
voice, “ I a in going to leave you forever,
farewell '.—Bear my dying love to my
dear parents; and, tell Francis that even
now I remember him. Oh, may you all
be happy ! Do not grieve too much for
pie.”
“ Fie had not yet observed me, and
when I came forward and seized his hand,
he gave mine a feeble pressure, while his
other arm enclosed the form of the des
pairing Cecilia. A smile seemed to light
his countenance, as if with the thought,
that Cecilia had still a brother and protec
tor left, and as lie muttered his almost in
audible prayer, “ Lord receive my spirit,”
he seemed to join with it another for our
united happiness.
“ He died !—he calmly expired, with
out even knowing whose hand had given
the murderous blow ; bnt it was better
thus:—The knowledge that his lriend had
murdered him, would have added a new
and severer pang to death. He had just
returned (sooner than he.expected) from
the college where ho completed his stu
dies, and passing by the bower, iie could
pot refrain from alighting to visit so well
loved a spot. lie thought his happiness
romoleted, by the presence of his sister.
H's dress and his horse, together with mv
own passion, misled me, and — , but
you know the rest : I cannot repeat,
from tha* fatal moment have the dying
pride of the village, in the full enjoyment
of health and happiness; but were now,
misery.
“ I could not bear the shock produced
by the sudden thought of George’s death,
and sank into convulsions so violeut, that
death would have been a grateful relief.
The despair of Cecilia, the dying words
of her brother, unconsciously blessing his
unfortunate murderer, presented them
selves to my tortured mind, with 'lie same
vividness and intensity, as at the moment
of tho transaction. Most earnestly did I
desire the return of ihe most complete in
sensibility: but the unremitted attentions
of my friends finally restored their un
willing patient. A lethargy and complete
prostration of all my powers, which seem-
ed the precursor and image of death, sue- j
ceeded. At length I was enabled to
speak, and the first use I made of my
voice, was to ask, what hart, above ever}'
other consideration, engaged my solici
tude—what was Cecilia’s situation.. I
was told she was well, but I too plainly
perceived, from the mournful countenances
of mv friends, that I was told this to quiet
mv fears and anxiety.
"“Tel! me,” said'l, “tel! me at once
the worst. Oh! is Cecilia also dead ?
“Oh no!” they hastily answered, “she
is not dead;—compose yourself tor her
j sake and for ours; she is alive.”
“ I endeavored to do as requested, sa
lt isfied, for the present, with the intelli-
i gence that she was alive. I even avoided
j the subject, until returning strength ena-
' bled me to hear the complete narrative of
alas, doomed to convey to the house of j what occurrc^dunng^Hn^ss.
looks of George, and tl*e despair of Ce
cilia incessantly haunted me. She hung
over him as if unwilling that he should re
lease his last embrace,'even though (he
arm that gave it was now palsied in death.
At length it fell loosely by his side, and
she swooned so deeply, that I thought she
had already joined the spirit of her bro
ther, in its flight to realms of eternal bliss.
“ Even while I endeavored to restore
her to animation, I could not but think,
that she would he happy in so soon ex
changing the darkened prospects of time,
for a jovful immortality ; and as I leaned
over her with the most singular mixture of
hope and despair, I determined, if I could
not succeed in bringing her back to life,
that my corse should be found, with those
of my injured, yet beloved friends. She
at length revived, at first unconscious of
her situation; but when her eye rested
upon the features of her brother, now fix
ed in death, her emotions were violent
and convulsive. She became more com
posed ; bnt the violence ot her looks told
too truly the melancholy tact, that her in
tellect was unable to stand the dreadful
shock, and that every ray of reason was
enveloped in the gloom of maniacy.
retained barely sufficient recollection to
carry her away from the melancholy
scene; and, altho gh her longing glances
his father, the pale and bloody corse of J
the intelligent and interesting George.— .
How manv maledictions were hurled upon j
tie head of his murderer—liow many in
quiries and surmises cf who that murderer
was; from me, they sought, if I had no
knowledge, or suspicion of the person, but
I could not answer, and the kind interpo
sition of the afficted father was frequently
necessary, to stop their well meant im
portunity. No onep esent would have
hesitated h moment, to execute direct
vengeance on the assassin; and, as I saw
their arms nerved with tne force ot anger
and grief, I felt the strongest impulse, to
proclaim that I was the guilty wretch,
and then quietly devote myself to their
direct vengeance. A hundred times, I
was on the point of making the disclosure;
but the words died unheard upon my
tongue, for at such attempt, I saw the form
of Cecilia, pale, solemn, and imposing,
standing over her brother s corse and
commanding me to live.—I felt the cold
touch of her hand as she snatched the
dagger from mine, and hurled it into the
water, and my voice was hushed in invol
untary silence. It hung like an incubus
upon me, and, until to-night, whenever
reason possessed any control over my
words, if I thought ol making the disclos
ure, the sensation-lias been the same.
“ The mournful crowd advanced ; as
we approached the fatal spot, my blood
ran with astonishing rapidity, from the
extremities to the heart, and •when the
citadel of life was almost flooded, it rushed
back in boiling currents. We arrived at
the bower, where all my hopes had grown
and been continually nurtured, until the
deadliest blight od a sudden destroyed
them, and shrouded the remainder of my
FROM TIIE NATIONAL INTELLIGENCER.
No. V.
It has been shewn that no proposition
from Mr. Clay’s friends was made by Mr.
Buchanan to Genera! Jackson, by which
they promised to make him President in
one hour, if he would pledge himselt not
to put Mr. Adams into the seat of Sec
retary of State, and consequently Mr.
Buchanan could have carried back no an
swer to such proposition. Here tho ques
tion might rest.
The discrepancy in the statement of
General Jackson and Mr. Buchanan is
marked and striking. They caunot stand
together; they are utterly at variance and
irreconcilable.
General Jackson is incapable of mis
representing deliberately and intentional
ly ; it will cost him nothing to acknowl
edge that he has been mistaken : he will
be happy to know that the error is his ;
that Mr'. Buchanan’s tiulh and honor are
preserved, and “that the character of his
“country lias not suffered through the acts
“ofa prominent man.” Mr Buchanan
and Mr. Markley are also men of truth
and honesty ; and the only interpretation
which can, in justice and candor, be pat
on their conversation, and the only object
which can be ascribed to them, consistent
with their high and fair character, is, that
they meant no more than to place them
selves before the friends of Mr. Clay “ on
the same footing with the Adams men,”
by assurring them that the claims of Mr.
Clay should be fairly estimated. If
Mr. Buchanan intended to hold out any
other or higher inducements to Mr. Clay’s
kis enemies with
_ (not a word about “those
“ able and ambitious men who were aspir-
“ ing to that office, among whom was Mr.
“ Clay” “ upon whose exertions and
upon whose friends such a leport was
! “calculated to have the most unhappy of-
; “ fect,”J Mr. Buchanan wrote to a friend,
I high in office, exalted in character, and
the advocate of General Jackson, request
ing his opinion and advice on the subject.
The answer confirmed his previous opin
ion. “ Ho then finally determined to ask
“ the General himself, or to get another
“ friend to ask him whether he had ever
“ declared that he would appoint Mr. Ad-
“ aim Secretary of State.” There is no
thing wrong in all this, and it is only sur
prising he should have found it necessary
to consult a friend, and to approach the
General with such apologies. But why
introduce Mr. Markley? The interview
was not sought bv him. He had no de
sign in the communication unfriendly to
General Jackson. The meeting was ac
cidental. The conversation casual, pri
vate, familiar, and friendly, consequent
ly free and unguarded. With the news
thus obtained, he goes to General Jackson
and represents Mr. Markley as a friend o<
Mr. Clay, and represents the conversa
tion. He himself says, he cannot remem-
“ her whether he mentioned his name, or
“ merely described him as the friend of
“ Mr. Clay”—and afterwards he says,
“ “ he is sincerely sorry that he is com-
“ pel!ed to introduce his name; hut
“ he does so with less reluctance, because
“ it has already, without his agency, found
“ its way into the papers in connexion with
“ this transaction.” That is, he consults
with Mr. Markley about the means to se
cure the election of the General, and with
out anv other object. His name is given
up, and his character sullied with a suspi
cion of base intrigue.. The General com
municates the fact to a public editor, by
whom he is not only jnsulted, but grossly
abused.
The statement of Mr. Buchanan is now
adverted to, to shew that no proposition was
warranted or can be deduced from the re
marks of Mr. Markley. Mr. Markley
said, “ the rumor (that Mr. Adams was to
“ be appointed Secretary of State) was
“ calculated to injure the General!”—
“ “ urged him to obtain a contradiction of
“ h”—“ said it would be of great advan-
“ tage to the cause for us to declare up-
“ on his authority.” We should then
“ be upon an equal footing with the Ad-
j “ ams men, and might fight them witn
“ their own weapons.”
He reasons the case very wisely with
Mr. Buchanan. He observed, “ that the
friends of Mr. Clay were warmly attached
“ to him, and that he thought they would
“ endeavor to act in concert”—“ that they
“ would soon decide the contest”—“ that
“ the Western members would naturally
“ prefer voting for a Western man, if there
“ were a probability that the claims of Mr.
“ Clay to <the second office in the Govern-
“ meat should be fairly estimated.”
What is there in this unrestrained ex
pression of opinion to indicate that Mr.
Markley was the ‘friend of Mr. Clay ?—
He iden’ifies himself with the feelings of
Mr. Buchanan, and the cause of Gen.
Jackson, by the use of the words we and
existence in the darkest gloom of despair, j f r ; en ds, he will incur the odium as well as
I caught a glimpse of my murdered friend, j t j 1R g U jj t () f being the master spirit of the
and witk the sudden impulse of my phren- j ntr fg U e, and satisfy all that lie failed in
zied remorse leaped headlong into the
river. *****
“ I awoke, as if from a dream ; I had
forgotten what was my situation and al
most who I was. It seemed to me that I
had slept, and yet the sleep was unnatural.
I felt not the calm quiet of one awaking
from accustomed and wholesome slumber
but rather, the uncertain and disordered
consciousness of those distuibed by horrid
dreams. I was weak and exhausted, and
the debility was overpowering although I
could not divine the cause. Still I felt at
ease, and saw that I was in bed ; but my
strength was not sufficient even to raise
myself upon my arm. I endeavored to
recollect where, and almost what I was.
, j I thought I was dead—that the surround-
£ | ing curtains were those which separated
me from mortal existence—that I had al
ready launched into the boundless ocean
of eternity, and was now waiting to re
st tho corpse showed great reluctance to
leavo it, she submitted quietly to be led
away. Her father’s house was the nearest
to the bower, so that we were fortunate
in arriving there, without subjecting our
selves to the set utiny of the villagers.—
When I opened the door, and with a
ce ve some insight into the uncertain cir
cumstances of death and futurity.
“ At first I supposed that utterance, as
well as motion, was denied me! but I
soon resolved to attempt it. I was im
mediately sensible that the sound was ve
ry faint; yet* that it.was audible, I per-
he?rj bleeding at oxer/ pore, conducted ceived by tije ^urtaias being suddenly
the means and ability to conduct, not in
the disposition to consummate it. In this
view all will be fair and clear. General
Jackson has misapprehended the subject
and the injustice done Mr. Clay is con
fessed.
If we admitted the presumption, against
all evidence, that Mr. Markley is the
friend of Mr. Clay, and that Mr. Buchan
an entered into the intrigue, and actually
carried the proposition in that form to
General Jackson, then it must result that
Mr. Buchanan is a particinator of the
crime, and that he is “ capable of carry
ing such a message.” The truth of Gen
eral Jackson’s declaration is incompatible
with his innocence. This was forseen.—
li was known that he must be sacrifigd.—
He was in the awful situation of either
denying the truth of the statement, or of.
signing his own condemnation.
If Mr. Buchanan did make the propo
sition, he says he was not authorized.—
But Gen. Jackson says “the character of
“ Mr. Buchanan with me forbids the idea
“ that he was acting on his own responsi-
“ bility, or that, under any circumstances,
“he would have been induced to propose
»• an arrangement unless possessed ofsatis-
“ factory assurances that, if accepted, it*-
What is there to indicate that he meant
to authorise a proposition on tlje part of
Mr. Clay, or of his friends? and where is
his authority ?
During this period, of deep intorest to
the country, the utmost latitude of specu
lation and conjecture was indulged—every
man made his own reflections and calcula
tions—pot a member of Congress, scarce
ly a leading man in any part of the Union
who did not form in his mind some con
jecture who would compose the cabinets
of the several candidates. The subject
was daily spoken of wiihout reserve. Mr.
Clay was too conspicious a man to be o-
verlooked in the formation of any Cabin
et. It was every day said that Mr. Adams,
as Secretary of State—Mr. Clinton, as
Treasurer—and a military gentleman as
Secretary of War, would compose the
Cabinet of Gen. Jackson* Tbis was said
without authority: it was the conjecture of
persons reflecting on the subject; and
there is scarcely a politician in any city
or town, who could not form a reasonable
Conjecture with regard to the formation of
the Cabinets. Is there any thing in what
Mr. Markley said which was not said bv
every body and known to every body ?
and-could Gen. Jackson or Mr. Buchan
an pretend to any ignorance of these re
marks ? and what is there but an ardent
desire for the advantage of the cause ? and
what are the means more than that his
claims shall be fairly estimated ?
If this simple affair, which has been so
exagerated and magnified, is not a simple
and innocent transaction, and by a for
ced construction it must mean to implicate
any one in a guilty intrigue, what does it
purport to be?
It exhibits two friends of General Jack-
son consulting on the means of securing
his election. It contains their views end
tion, and their knowledge of the honest
means which might be rightfully-employ
ed to prevail over the virtue of Mr. Clay
and his friends. .
If they intended merely’to obtain a de
claration that General Jackson had not
determined to make Mr. Adams Secreta
ry of State, that was very innocent. But
if they wished an explicit avowal, that, in
no case, would he appoint him Secretary
of State, and they intended to hold out ex
pectations, true or false, to the friends of
Mr. Clav—then it is an intrigue among
tho friends of General Jackson—his elec
tion, the end ; the influence of Mr. Clay’s
friends, the means, and the procurement
of it by inducement, which could not be
misunderstood. If true, and intended to
be carried into effect in good faith, what is
it but the indirect tender of the office of
Secretary of State ? and then the intrigue
was base and the proposition corrupt.—
But if false, and intended to deceive and
allure, by false hopes, then it adds dishon
esty and treachery to the crime. But if
intended merely to place themselves on
an equality, by assuring the friends of Mr.
Clay that his claims would be fairly esti
mated then it is innocent. In whatever
light it may be viewed, it began in the anx-
iety of Mr. Buchanan ; was conducted by
him, with the desire of effecting the elec
tion of General Jackson, by means which
lie no doubt thought fair and honorable.
Instead of the friends of Mr. Clay being
active and urgent, and conspicuous, and
evincing their interest in the result, not
an act has been done ; not a word, not a
wish, has been expressed.
The object of the consultation is, how
can the Western members, who are the um
pires, who can decide the contest, who will
act in concert, be brought over to the in
terests of General Jackson ? They .are
the power to be moved—to be acteii on.
But if General Jackson has been so un
fortunate in understanding or recollecting
Mr. Buchanan’s communication, and his
feelings and fame have been lacerated,
how can he, with such a case betore him,
venture to give the words of Mr. Markley
in a conversation two years and eight
months ago ?
Nothing is more difficult than to repeat
a conversation in one hour nothing is more
difficult for diplomatists, than to reduce to
writing the words, or even the substance
of a conference the same day: and two
ministers rarely agree in the statement,
with every motive to be accurate. How
then can they be remembered so long, with
so many intervening events ? If Mr. Bu
chanan is unwilling to be condemned on
the testimony of the General, how can he,
upon similiar evidence ? If Mr. Buchan-
is unwilling to be condemned on the testi
mony of the General, how can he, upon
similar^ evidence, and himself an interes
ted witness, attempt to bring Mr.'Mark-
lev, his friend, before the public ? And
how can, not only one man, but a whole
party, composed of the most respectable
names in the country, be accused on such
evidence? and how can the conversation
of two of General Jackson’s friends, thus
imperfectly disclosed, after so long an in
terval, attach to any mat; or party of men ?
It does not appear that Mr. Buchanan
went back to Mr. Markley with the Ge
neral’s answer, or that he ever held any
intercourse with any of the triends of Mr.
Clav. But he says he got such an answer
as he expected—he asked and obtained
permission to repeat it, of which he aval-
od himself. Certainly Mr. Buchanan did
not say any thing to discourage the hopes
or the wishes of the Western members.—
He was authorized to contradict the report
and to say that he would go into office free,
“ and that he would be at perfect liberty
“ to fill the offices with the men whom at
“ the time he believed to be the ablest
“ and best men in the country. Did Mr.
“ Buchanan tell the friends of Mr. Clay,
“ that, before he would reach the Presi-
“ dential Chair by such means of bargain
“ and corruption, lie would see the earth
“ open and swallow them all up. Mr. Bu
chanan carried no message calculated to
“ have the most unhappy effect on their
“ exertions.” He, no doubt, carried a
soothing answer—one calculated to shew
the Western members, that the claims of
their friend would be fairly estimated
“ one that might be of great “ advantage
to the causeBut to whom did he carry
this answer*? That is left to conjecture.
But it must be brought homo to some
friend of Mr. Clay. I conclude that Mr.
Buchanan, “ a gentleman of the first re
spectability and intelligence,” would have
made no communication which was cal
culated to defeat the end and object he
had in view, by cutting off all hope of the
friends of Mr. Clay. If he was influenced
bv the strong feelings which are said to
govern tho actions of ambitious men, he
would rather have held out hopes, if not
temptations, to that patty that had the pow
er to decide the political fate of his friend
and chief in whose cause he has manifest
ed so much zeal. If Mr. Buchanan had
set about to effect the election of Gen Jack-
son, bv bringing about a corrupt under
standing, and was capable of making a cor
rupt proposition to General Jackson, he
must be a giant of intrigue, or the tool of
the Prince of intriguers, and I would not
trust him. He would have consummated
the intrigue by carrying back a favorable
response. He would not witness the tri
umph of a rival party, whom it was his
chief object to defeat, and the mortifying
humiliation of his own, and the disappoint
ment of his hopes, from mere fastidious
ness. No man who makes up his mind to
do a criminal act, will be scrupulous of the
means. He would have promised the re
ward, if he meant to deceive them after
wards, and a man, less a casuist, might
have thought it meritorious “ to fight such
intriguers with their own “ weapons.”—
But Mr. Buchanan is an honorable man,
and so is General Jackson, and why not
the friends of Mr. Clay? Is not the Pre
sidency as high a temptation as the office
of Secretary of State ? HAMP DEN.
THURSDAY, SEPT. 27, 1827-
{£7* During the last week, the Sexton
reports 6 deaths in the city, one aged 38
in the Hospital; the others are children,
one aged 2 years, and the ages of the rest
are all under nine mouths.—All whites.
The general Election for the State Le
gislature, will take place on next Monday,
together with the election of Governor, •
and the Congressional election to fill the
vacancy occasioned by the resignation of
Col. Tat^aLL^
CANDIDATES.
For Governor—Hon. John Forsvth /
CONGRESS.
Thos. IT. P. Charlton, of Savannah
George R Gilmer, of Oglethorpe,
c , I John Phinizt,
For Senate, j (Holland McTvrC.
C Robert Dillon,
Representative l Robert Watkins*
Branch. 1 W. W. Holt,
l Henry Mealing.
(£7* Success to the most worthy.
Tickets must have on them Convert
tion, or no Convention.
We have been asked several times a*
bout the objects to be answered by th©
proposed Convention, and as we have ex»
amined what has been said on both sides,
we think, impartially, have answered all
inquiries of that kind, by saying, we could
not see any object proposed to be an*
swered by a Convention, which could not
equally well be obtained through the regu*
lar legislation of the State. The Legis
lature have finally to deliberate and decide*
upon any measures which the Convention-
might propose, and they might as well do
it at once without any consultation with ^
preceding body.
We always loved the Old Rifleman
“ Natty,” of the Pioneers, and will water
his grave with our tears, if we ever visit
the western wilderness, where his bone*
rest in peace, fur from the “settlements.”
It is not because we love a gun ourselves,
or would have been proud of being thr
legatees of his long Carabine, but because
we see illustrated in hirn, that acuteness
of intelligence and knowledge of the cha
racter and habits of animals, which can be
gained alone by the hunter’s life. The
hunter loses half his pleasure, ana all the
real piofit of his amusement, who is blind
to tho instinct of the brute creation, and
does not discover in the more perfect ani
mals strong evidences even of a more ra
tional intelligence. A knowledge of the ’
facts which give evidence of reason in the
brute creation, constitute the hunter. It
enables him to effect his object ia killing
his game, and with respect to animals of
prey, furnishes him with the means ofes* -
caping their rapacity.
We remember to have leaned^bu tine
knee of a good old Whig, while he amused
our boyhood with tha advantage he m;ce-
dcrived from his knowledge of the charac
ter and habits of so stupi d an animal as-
thehog. At the period of the Revolu
tionary war, in some parts of the country
the fortune of many individuals consisted
in large stocks of cattle and hogs. Old
Gavin was of this number, and had a fine'
stock of hogs in particular. The torie?.
kept so strict a watch for the old Whig,
that he had to visit his home bv stealth*
and never slept at night for many months
but in the woods. The fall approached
and every thing appearing pretty quiet,
Gavin ventured on spending more of his
time at home, and among other necessary
arrangements got up his “ killing hogs,”
and put them in a pen to fatten. But
Gavin had hardly began to dream quietly
under his own roof, before a party of 40
or 50 tories surrounded his house and
made him prisoner. They compelled
him to take his fine fat hogs from the pea
and toll them to their camping ground, 4
or 5 mlies. There another peD was made
in the woods, the hogs safely enclosed,
and old Gavin strictly guarded. Howe-'
ver, as after night centinels were placed al!
round the encampment, it was not thought
necessary to tie the prisoner, or otherwise
abridge the use of his locomotive powers.
As the fires died away towards midnight,
the drowsy eyes oi the tories were closed
in sleep, except the sentir.ols who paced
round the camp at the distance of 150 o*
200 yards from their sleeping comrades.
At this time Gavin planned his escape.—
He got on his hands and feet and ap
proached the hog-pen with some caution )
at first, and at last in such a manner as to
arrest the attention of some of the more
watchful hogs, who would raise their heads
slightly, and grunt as if aware everything
was not right, but were uncertain what it
was. Old Gavin then returned, and afte.
the lapse of 15 or 20 minutes, he assume*
the same attitude, and approaches the pen
at a pretty brisk trot, and when he had
got within 10 or 12 steps, he uttered the
hog’s note of alarm, Booh. This rouse,-
the whole gang, who repeated the note
with many variations^ The old man then