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• 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ijitti.de or 62 1-2 cent*, and 43 3-1 ceuta lor each con- advancing with an the dear, unconscious creature, ’hat hung j withdrawn, so despairingly on my arm, into the pre- -a nccs of my parents sence of her parents ; the horror visible expression of solicitude I c 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