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GEORGIA COURIER.
J. G. ffi’WSCOUTSB.
HE3n&r rmirns,
PUBLISHERS.
Trrvi* Thin P.ipi-r if puhli<heil rv<»ry Monday and
fhnradny af'rrnooii, it «T> on p.-r -innum. payable'in ad-
unce, or $(< 00 at tli™ expiration of'he year.
XT Advertisements not exeeedine a square, inserted the
first tints or 62 l-2‘ccnt“, and -13 3-1 cents for each cdn-
tinnance.
j icntioii fur a time from the engrossing to-
I pic of^ bitter reflections and i egrets. I
acquired 'the power of concealing the tor
ture ot my mind, from the observation of
others; and, as l did not wish to return
i home, I pursued my first intention of go
ing to College, where our acquaintance
commenced. It is unnecessary to give
FOR Till: GEORGIA COURIER.
T1IE
VICTIM! I OV T:*L&VTUQSlTir.
( Concluded.)
<* These were the most interesting por
tions of my father’s narrative ot what trans
pired during mv illness. I recovered slow
ly, but such was the settled mcdanchoiy
th;it brooded continually over my mind,
rhat my situation was scarcely preferable
to the one I had left. Sly parents thought
that this was, in a great degree, occasion
ed by the continual presence ot objects
so fruitful of heart-rending associations;
and that travelling would be beneficial.-—
I made no objection, for my native vil
lage had no longer any charms to detain
me, since every object I once loved so
well, only reminded me ot my crime. I 1
had the greatest desire to see Cecilia ;
vet I was fearful that niy appearance
•might cause too great excitement for her
feeble frame, and perhaps be seriously in
jurious to her health. I could not, how
ever, bear the thought of leaving home
Without one parting interview; for I
thought T should never see her again.—
My request for this purpose was granted,
and I was introduced to her presence.—
For some time she had not recognised
anv one that approached her, and was
gradually sinking under a listless vacant
melancholy. I entered the room where
she w'as sitting at the window, regarding
the beauties of nature with a p nsive and
absent air. Her head was turned from
the door, her soft white hand supported
her pale cheek, and in the other held a
book which perhaps she had been looking
at, through the effect of habit, without
understanding its contents. So composed
and melancholy was her attitude, so ab
stracted her air, that I could not, for some
time, consent to intrude upon her calm
serenity.
“ Her father called her name, and in
formed her that Francis had come to see
her. She seemed somewhat agitated by
feelings, which were similar to what they
are at this present moment, that I had been
long absent, and that my friends were
either employed in searching for me, or
else bewailing my supposed death. I
discovered the situation of this place by
seeing the colleges and village at a dis
tance, and returned home by the most pri-
you a particular account of what there i vate way to avoid an exposure of my mis
took phtc<*,—-with most of the circumstan
ces you are already acquainted.
will show the necessity of the notice :
* Unequivocal’ was inserted in place of
equivocal; ‘ stranggling’ for struggling 5
‘ direct’ for divest; ‘ concussions’ for co
ruscations ; ‘ called’ for culled ; ‘ the’ for
my ; ‘ composure’ for confidencee; 1 gen
erally* for generously, and similar ones
which may have been observed by the
readers, although they do not now occur.
ery. My parents were overjoyed, for
they had almost despaired of ever seeing j
“ I endeavored to banish reflection in i me a? 3115 .* Here I enjoyed for some time
every possible way ; I sought the holiest *He blessings of reason,but kept as retired
company, not because it was congenial to
my feelings, for every jest, every expres
sion of mirth, sent a pang to my heart;
but th ; s pang was not so excruciating as
that of solitary reflection. Study, when
I could confine my mind to it, afforded
as possible, because I could not bear the
public scrutiny, and felt m/self not in a
situation to associate with the world. I
| had some hope, however, that time would
! make me capable of enjoying those pleas-
j ures, which the dying injunctions of my
some relief; but a single recollection of! beloved made it my duty to desire. Soli-
mv misfortune and the misery I had occa- j ,ar y wa Iks around the village were my
sioned, wouM break the chain of my ideas j principal exercise, and one evening I de
termined to visit the graves of my dear
friends. I had made some inquiries of \
my father respecting Mr. and .Mrs. Rem-
the name, and slowly turned her eyes
from one to the other, as if in hopes of
recognising some known face. She ap
peared disappointed, until they settled in
A piercing glance at me. For a moment
she regarded me with the closest atten
tion, then starting suddenly up, with an
exclamation of joy, she threw herself into
ury arms,
“ Oh George! Oh my dear broTjier!”
she cried, “ T knew you would come to
me again j I knew you would not be so
cruel as never to return.”
“ I clasped her hand in mine, in ag~>nv
unutterable, and as she withdrew from
my arms, I told her that it was not her
hrother.
“ Oh, sav not so; do not tell me that
George has not come back ; do not say
that I am still a bereaved sister. But—
it is not Genrpe; all ! T know it is not
George; but,” she continued, while a
flight blush suffused her animated counte
nance,” it is one who once loved me—
now.—Oh, Francis, where have you
been ? why have you left me so long ?
Will George not come; did you not bring
Him with vou? Shall I never, never see
him more?”
“ A flood of tears, the first she had
shed for a long time, came to her relief,
and she fell into her chair, and hid her
face with her hands in evident emotion.
VV e endeavored to calm her agitated fcel-
;\ugs, 1 -lit soon her wild looks and incohe
rent ravings told too plainly, that she was
not in a situation to profit l>v our consola
tions.
’* I hud armed mvself with resolution
to repress all outward exhibi'io.ns of my
grief in her presence; and, although her
first appearance sent .an almost insupport
able pang to mv heart, I overcome the
emotion, and advanced towards her. But
when she took me for her brother; when
she called his no me in so affectionate, and
yet so sorrowful, a manner, my feelings
tvere inconceivably tortured. I could
have borne the raving of madness; I could
have borne to look upon the countenance
once so intelligent, once beaming with vi
vacity and joy, upon which I loved so
fondly to gave, although the wild look of
a disordered mind had usurped the place
ot intelligence; although all its joy and
vivacity had disappeared in the gloom of
despair and grieL But when, instead of
titter destitution of Intellect and the list
less, unmeaning deportment I expected,
her countenance beamed with a partial
ray of intelligence, when she seamed so
jnuch affected by mv presence,—above
all, when her sweet angelic voice pro
nounced, in such melting accents, the
name of her beloved George; her brother
•—her murdered brother—Oh, it was too
much for the heart of his murderer to
bear. Not all the pains of sickness and
xvant; not all the ranklings of disappoint
ed ambition and despised love; not all
the sorrows of human nature assembled
into one point of existence, could surpass
Jhe^dreadful agony that overwhelmed me,
as I hastily retreated from, the chamber
and fell senseless, and for a time lifeless,
e.t the door.
” This occasioned a relapse from which
. ^ recovered after a long and' tedious con
finement. I then left the village, and for
several months was travelling in different
Ps>rts of the country, in the hope of sub
duing, at least tu a measure, the gloom
that had taken such complete possession
of mv mind. I was not entirely success-
»ul, as new scenes, constantly presenting
li'ercseivesj could not but divert my st
and render me the most miserable of be
ings. Dissipation would sometimes pre
vail over the gloom of my feelirjgs, but its
influence was false and illusory.
“In Some of the more violent parox
isms, I was obliged to retreat from the
village and the company of the studenis,
devote myself entirely to the torture of
recollection, and, without the least self-
command, submit to its control. You
have seen me in this situation ; the pity
you evidently felt for my unhappy state ;
I your delicacy in refraining from enquiries
of the cause of my disorder, and your ge
nerous and disinterested friendship, at
tached me most strongly to you. It made
upon the heart of the miserable being, to
wards whom it was exercised, an impres
sion never to be effaced. Believe me
when I tell you that I most sincerely avow
my gratitude. This alone could have in
duced me to relate to you my history.
During my absence from home, I heard
frequently from Cecilia, through my fa
ther, and the only remaining solace of my
life, was the hope that she might be
eventually restored. But this hope, like
every other of my heart, was doomed to
disappointment.
“ You remember the evening I left you
so abruptly—the last time I saw you be
fore this evening. The servant you saw
had been sent, by my father, with the
heart-rending information that Cecilia was
extremely ill and desired to see mo.
With a thousand varied emotions ofhope
and fear, I flew to the village. I repair
ed instantly to her house and entered her
chamber. She was indeed very ill; alas !
her soul seemed fluttering around on the
point of its eternal flight. Her livid coun
tenance told that death was near, yet the
soft serenity of her features showed that
he would be no unwelcome visitor.
Struck with the solemnity of the scene, I
lingered at the door until a friend an
nounced to iier my arrival. She was now
perfectly rational, and as I approached
her side, she gave me a look of recogni
tion and kindness, and made a feeble ef-
fori s tr> l>«r hand. I took it ixi mine,
but so great was my emotion that utterance
would have been impossible.
“All, Francis,” she said, with faint but
inexpressibly feeling accent,s “ you have
come soon enough to hear my dying re
quest. Live, I beseech you, with the
earnest desire and continual endeavor to
overcome the despair that preys on your
mind. Resolve to shake off the gloomy
melancholy that embitters your existence,
and try to become a useful and happy
man. Forget all the events of this hour,
except the advice of her who now leaves
you forever, whose latest, most earnest
desires are for your future welfare. A-
bove all, think no more of the fatal deed
which your rashness, not your crime, oc
casioned, but endeavor to blot it from
your memory. Promise to comply with
these requests.”
“ I fell on my knees and most solemnly
vowed to obey. Her parents knelt al
most involuntarily at my side; her hand
was still clasped in mine, and for some
moments her eyes beamed with the soft
complacency of satisfaction and resigna
tion; her lips gently moved, as if in
prayer, and with a feeble voice, she im-
plore'd divine blessings upon us all, her
nearest and dearest connexions. The
sound died away from her lips as the
passing breeze; her hand seemed to relax
its gentle hold; her features were as
cairn and placid as of an infant in hap
piest slumber: her eyes were closed, and
not the least nerve agitated—but her pure
and immaculate soul had deserted forever
its earthly habitation.
“ A smile, as if of pleasure to find death
so easy, still lingered, unwilling to leave
the lips where it loved to dwell; but oh !
how different from the rosy, changing
smile of playful innocence. I regarded
the corse with fearful agitation, and my
eyes were fixed, as by a charm, upon the
lovely countenance. Soon objects be
came less and less distinct; the image of
George was blended in my mind, with
that of his sister, and the happiest dajs
I enjoyed in their company seemed
strangely confused with the dreadful re
collections of their death. Then I thought
that the united and happy spirits of George
and Cecilia were calling me to follow them
to the grave. I eagerlj' and joyfully at
tempted to reach them, but an invisible,
yet impenetrable, barrier seemed to in
terpose and separate me from their pre
sence.
“Of what has since occurred, I have
little recollection, except a most indistinct
one, of seeing the body of my loved Ce
cilia quietly inurned in the tomb; but
even of this, I am entirely uncertain
whethor it is only a phantom of my dis
ordered imagination, nr whether I was
actually present. This part of my exist
ence was as complete a blank, as if a
temporary death had intervened; and
when at length a return, of reasou came to
iny benighted mind I felt the greatest so
licitude to know what was my situation.
“ You may imagiue my astonishment
and horror, when I found mvself in this
gloomy place—a habitation, fit only for
.beasts, or such unfortunate wretches as
THE STATE
r s.
HENRY SHULTZ k ALEXANDER BOYD.
The following is the substance of the Charge deliv
ered by the presiding Judge, to the Jury.
From what has fallen from the counsel
in the course of the argument, the court is
left to conclude that the tiansaction lead
ing to thi§ prosecution has been the source
of great public excitement. Difficult as
such a labour would be if such a passion
had taken possession of the public mind,
the jury were called on by the most so
lemn obligations of justice and humanity
to enter on an honest self examination, to
• | ] <1111 IW G U 1 b I Wit flit III* I1GJI VilUlllI tiUlivIlla l V
mson but as they were generally evaded, diyest themselves of its j nQtience| and t0
I had not the resolution to press the sub
ject although my worst fears were excited.
But now, when in the melancholy place
that speaks so powerfully, though silently,
of the fickle uncertainty of human hopes,
I wept over the graves of Cecilia and
George; it required, nothing more than
my own feelings to inform me, that the
two fresher graves, so near them, were
those of their parents.
“ The gentle whispers of the breeze,
through the tall poplars and mourning
^ i willows around, was in melancholy con
sonance with the gloom of mv grief; and
vet there was a kind of pleasure iu con
templating death in such an interesting j
form. The still' unsettled stale of my
mind could not support the continual re
currence of thoughts and objects so affect
ing, and notwithstanding every means was
used to prevent it, my insanity soon re
turned. Since then I have had no lucid
intervals of any duration; I have some
faint recollection of who were in pur
suit of me, and hiding from their searen.
When I was conscious of any thing, I
have generally found myself here, and my
present situation, together with those faint
and momentary glimmerings of reason,
induce the belief that this has been my
continual place of residence.
“ To-day a return of intellect, more
perfect and lucid than any I have enjoyed
since Cecilia’s death, came suddenly upon
me, and with the resolution that has al-
ways actuated me on such occasions, I
was about to return to my parents. But
some soft presentiment seemed to
tell mo that I never should complete the
journey. I fell upon rav knees and for
hours implored divine forgiveness of my
sins, and that, in its passage beyond the
grave, my son!, stript of all its infirmities
and imperfections, might bo prepared for
the society of those, whose lives had been
so prematurely snatched away by my des
perate impetuosity. At length peace and
joy, strange emotions t • my desolate heart,
pervaded m v soul, and as the sun set with
such splendour in the west, I thought that
the kindred spirits of George and Cecilia,
were commissioned to bring to me the joy
ful news of my reconciliation with hea
ven ; perhaps it was a vain, delusive dream,
but I saw them beckoning me on to their
presence, and I felt an impulse within that
informed me I would not disobey their
summons,
“ I recollect that you were the onlv
friend 1 could procure to perform.the last
sad offices, and I wished to give you a
token of my esteem. You are with me
and gratitude, for your presence and
frendship will sweeten mv latest moments.
And now f have hut one wish for life and
one for death :—The fir$t, that mv father
w’ere here to receive mv dying love and
carry it to my mother; the ^'ther that mv
body might repose with those of Cecilia
and George, and add one more to the me
lancholy group that calls so londlv upon
the sympathy of every heart. Give these
portraits to my father, they are those of
niy dear friend*. Tell him not to grieve
for my fate, I have been unfortuate and
miserable, but now I am hnnpv, and thp
only regret that can disturb me is that mv
father is not here.”
“ Let that no longer disturb vou, my
son,” exclaimed an unknown voice, that
w.as so unexpected and so contrasted from
the weak and failing accents of the dying
Francis, that it started my every nerve.
Francis, who had for some time been
obliged to recline upon my breast for sup
port, now suddenly started up, crying
“ Thank God! my father! my father;”
(he sank into the old man’s arms,) “ and
now I die contented.”
There was a moment ofsolemn silence;
Francis was still resting in his father’s
embrace, whose exhausted frame was
scarcely able to support his embrace—-his
spirit had taken its flight forever, to join
with fluttering, joyful wings, the kindred
souls of his friends who had preceded him.
The sun just then arose and looked up
on the scene, and his first grateful rays
were refleced from the pale, cold face of
the last of the Victims of Impetuosity.
Often since has he arisen, and often looked
upon the graves of Francis, of George, of
Cecilia, and of their parents ; but the lus
tre of his beams, for a thousand years will
not re-animate the dead, nor efface from
my mind the melancholy associations
connected with the fate and history of mv
friend.
The author of the Victims of Impe
tuosity, considers it due to himself to
state that it was not convenient for him to
attend to the correction of the pieces as
they came from the press; in consequence,
several errors have escaped the notice of
the publisher. Where these extended no
farther than the addition- or omission of a
letter, they are not conceived worthy of
notice ; but owing, as he supposes, to the
illegibility, and ip some instances perhaps,
to the inaccuracy of the manuscript, words
have been entirely changed so as to mate-
T l <• rially affect the sense of the sentence.—
nojsejf 4 Hbcw from my appearance a'nd The following are given as instances, and
| enter on the consideration of the import-
i ant matters submitted to them, with a
'determination to decide according to the
[evidence—that a danger equally to beap-
I prehended, and alike unfriendly to the
I administration of public justice, sometimes
| resulted from the reaction of public opin-
; ion, against which it was equally their
duty to guard, for although it was true
that settled public opinion was usually
founded in truth, it was equally true that
the ebb of high excitement usually ran in
to the opposite extreme.
That tlio important and highly respon
sible duty which the occasion imposed on
the court was duly appreciated ; if possi
ble, that which devolved on the jury was
still more important. Tho exposition and
determination of the rules of law by which
the case was to be decided, was the pro
vince of the court ; but the more import
ant dufy of deciding the truth of the facts,
and their definitive application, decisive
of the fate of the prisoners, belonged to
them.
• The crime of murder, with which the
prisoners were charged, consisted, accord
ing to the universally received definition,
in the taking away of the life of a reason
able being, in the peace of the State, with
malice afore thought—that from this de
finition it necessarily resulted, that to sup
port a prosecution for murder, the proof
must trace the death to some act of the
accused; and that such connexion had
not been established, had been earnestly
and seriously denied in the case under
consideration.
The rule upon this subject, was one
founded on real practical common sense,
which admitted of but little variation, and
was accessible to the most ordinary capa-
ci ty. If death insue from an injury with
out any other supervening cause, of neces
sity it must be referred to that injury;
but if, on the other hand, an injury is
sustained, not in its nature calculated to
produce death, but in consequence of the
application of an unadvised, and improper
remedy, death does insue, it is referable
to this cause, and not to the original inju
ry : thus il one inflict on another, a mor
tal wound, of which lie instantly dies, the
the cause is necessarily referred to the
wound ; but if a very slight wound is in
flicted, and the death ensue in consequence
of an improper prescription, the death is
referable to the prescription, and not to
the wound.
On the part of the prosecution it was'
alledged, and such was the proof, that the
prisoners had inflicted on the person of
the deceased Joseph Martin, a chastise
ment which, in the opinion of Dr. Brazier,
witness called by the prisoners, must
necessarily have produced high febrile
excitement, and that this consequence did
insue ending in his death, notwithstanding
he was attended by a Physician, (Doctor
Spann,) called in by the prisoner, (H.
Shultz,and who stated that the deceased
received all the attention which, accord
ing to his judgment, his situation required,
up to the time of his dissolution. On tire
other hand, it was said that the decased
had been removed from the house of the
prisoner, II. Shultz, in upper Hamburg, to
that of Capt. Tatom’s, in lower Hamburg,
when in aliigh state of perspiration, and
in the night time, and that he had not un
dergone the depletion indicated by his
situation, circumstances which, in the
opinion of Doctors Brazier and M’Wlior-
ter, might have contributed to his death ;
and hence it was concluded that the death
was referable to these causes and not to
the original injury,—of this matter the
jury would judge and draw tlieir own
concluion. If they determined* this mat
ter in favor of the acused, their acquital
would follow'; but if against them, there
remained another question, which, in the
opinion of the court, constituted the im
portant point in the case : and that was
whether the killing amounted to murder
or manslaughter.
In the concise definition before given,
it would be perceived that malice prepense
constituted a necessary ingredient of the
crime of murder—that it was manifested
sometimes by previous declarations or ly
ing in waif, and by all those circumstances
which tend to show a precedent, settled
purpose to take life. The law implied it
in all those cases where 'from the circum
stances it could not be referred to other
obvious causes. It would be inferred from
the use of a weapon calculated to inflict a
mortal wound, and, as more direct
ly applicable to the case under considera
tion, to the continuation of an illegal inju
ry endangering life: in fine, to all those
acts demonstrating an indifference to con
sequences and indicating a heart devoid
of social duty and fatally bent on mischief.
The crime of manslaughter was distin
guished from murder by the absence of
malice, and it would be difficult per
haps to express the distinction in terms
more appropriate than those used by*M*.
Wm. Blackstone. He remarks that, “in
“ general, when an involuntary killing
“ happens in consequence of an unlawful
” act, it will be murder or manslaughter^
“ according to tlie act which occasioned
“ it. If it be in the prosecution of a felo-
“ nious intent, or in its consequences na-
“ turally tend to bloodshed, it will be
“ murder; but if no more wa-i intended
“ than a me e civil trespass, it will only
“ amount to manslaughter.”. (4th Black.
Com. 192.)
In the application of this note the at
tention of the jury, passing over the cir
cumstances which were mattersef induce
ment, was called to the facts sworn to by
the witness, Williams, who stated that
when lie saw the deceased he was prostrate
on the ground—that on being assisted, or
rather compelled to rise, by the prisoner,"
Shultz, he was so much exhausted that he
sunk five or six times in walking a dis
tance less than the fourth of a mile—that
on being brought to Hamburg, iio was un
able, with all the conveniences and com
forts which the prisoner, II. Shultz, pro
vided for him, to travel home on the even
ing of the same day, and that he finally
sunk under wounds and bruises which he
received at the hands of the prisoners,
and which have been described by the
witnesses.
On the other hand it was said, and
such seems to be the proof, that the pris
oner, Shultz, MTigaged in the business for
thetn will tidf; arW I believe without f t ,
of them Mr. Adams can never be elec/j
On this subject the most correct states
is that every thing is in doubt,& that if y.
Crawford should be elected, it would /
be astonishing ; I believe that in the
vato feelings of tho members of Con"
he has more good will, and is better" V
teemed, than either cf the other "ent!
men.
So man’, / think, believes that there is the
foundation fr the accusation against Mr (
and no man affects to credit it but Mr. Krc m .
at any rate. 1 know of none who does. ” ■
Y(
&C. &C.
J. M’LEAN
AUGUSTA.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER n, i Sr
We received Mr. Eaton’
after our paper was full. It will
in our next. He says, “
Buchanan’s statement and
statement
appear
Between 3j r
m y o»n and
that of Gen. Jackson, I can discern n
essential difference.” Mr. Eaton disca
vers no netv lact, except the singular one
the laudable purpose of reclaiming a trunk ! that capital was so scarce in Philaddnl
which had been stolen from some travel-! jn 182 tljat enterprising individuals h
iia
had
j [ to go to Tennessee for if, and that tlx
Editors of the Columbian Observerwerr
ling ladies, and that he acted under the
belief that deceased was the thief, no one
who had heard the trial would doubt; and
whether he was or was not, was a matter i indebted to Mr. Eaton for the cash which
wholly immaterial to this issue—that his f-prolonged the political importance ofih eir
kiud and parental admonition to the
deceased, the interest be took in securing
him from a prosecution for the supposed
theft, and above all, the high character
for humanity which was accorded to him
by all the witnesses who spoke of it, re
pelled the implication of malice.
From the whole of the circumstances
the jury were left to draw their own con
clusion, and they were told that if they
should find that the prisoners had perpe
trated this deed with the settled purpose
of taking away the life of the deceased, or
if the acts done were such as in them
selves endangered life, or indicated an in
difference to consequences, or a heart de
void of social duty and fatally bent on
mischief, it would be their duly to pro
nounce the prisoners guilty of murder ;
but if on tho contrary they were satisfied
that the converse of these propositions
be true, they ought to find them guilty of
manslaughter only.
—©Q©—-
[From the Illinois Gazette, Septembers.]
JACKSON AND BUCIIANAN-
These gentlemen are at issue in regard
to the charge of corruption against Mr.
Clay. The latter, who was to have proved
the damning feci, has completely acquit
ted him, and explicitily states to tho pub
lic that the only conversation lie ever had
with General Jackson on the occasion al
luded to, was entirely upon his own res
ponsibility, and not as agent of Mr. Clay,
or any other person, and he wonders how
General Jackson could have supposed he
came from Mr. Clay or any of his friends
for says he, it was known that he had
never been the political friend of for. Clay
siuce he had become a candidate for the
Presidency.
After this triumphant acquittal
Clay and his friends, of the foul
which GeD. Jackson preferred
them, and this too, on the testimony of
General Jackson’s own witness, the
friends of the Administration might rest
satisfied. But we have the following
paper. It will not be "forgotten, tintu
was in the Columbian Observer th t the
"immortal plot” of George Kreiner ^
Co. first saw the light. It is to here-
gretted its political existence was tooshot:
to permit it to see how its bantling has
j thriven in the world and become the iini.
versal theme of conversation for a great
nation.
We present our readers, to day,
the conclusion of the original “ Cullen*
Pale" which lias for several weeks im-
parted so much interest to our Thursday's
No. They will join with us in savins,
that it has been well composed, and has
furnished some very interesting scenes
over which we might virtuously expend
the exuberant sympathy of our nature.—
We hope its Author has not bidden a final
adieu to the Columns of the Courier. We
love to find, without the arid limits o;
political disputation, some green spot os
which we can rest from our labors, an:
in the pleasing interval drink refreshing
coolness fronr the spring- of Tame .
Fncv,
of Mr.
charge
against
Horsy ill is ot
being without
is true, that ii
1 gentlemen re<
The Election. Mr.
course elected Governor,
any regular opposition. It
some ot the counties, soint
ceived even a higher vote than Mr. For
syth lor Governor; but the rifgreeate of
all these scattering voles will fall (hr short
of (he whole number polled for the regie
lar candidate. Neither is , here any doubt
of the election of Mr. Gilmer to Ci
We believe the vote will be
“ Convention,” although the
ticket received a much
ngress.
against u
opposite
greater support
strong confirmatory evidence of Mr. Clay’s j than we anticipated,
innocence in the annexed letter from Mr. i The Milled<'eville J n „ r , i , .
AT Lean, to the editor of this paper, dated I lhc If'‘ "';P*»l» n S *
Washington, Feb. 3,1823, which belongs ! parties in the Legislature,
to tiiis subject, and which for that reason ' snys ’ * " ie * nencJ s of political peace and
vtc republish from the original, still in our Harmony have a large majority.” Who
possession. Mr. M’Lean was then one j ther they deserve such a do
of the Sen t tors in Congress for this State
and had every opportunity of knowing j
what was going forward, and from his high i
character as a man, we have the fullest j
confidence in his statement, that no one af
fected to believe Mr. Clay guilty, except i
Mr, Kremer, whatever Mr. M’Lean’sopiu- r
ion may be at present.
Copy of a letter to the Editor, dated.
Washington, 3d Feb. 1825.
Dear Sir—No doubt you have, with
astonishment, seen the cards of Mr. Clay
and Mr Kremer in the Intelligencer ; the
cause of those papers was a letter, said to
have been written from one of the Pen
nsylvania delegation, published in a Phil
adelphia paper. That letter was a direct
attack upon the integrity of Mr, Clay and
Ins friends, and charged directly that Mr.
Adams had their support upon contract,,
for appointments to office, that the sup
port had been offered to Gen. Jackson at
the same price, hut had been rejected.—
Mr. Clay, yesterday, from his Speaker’s
chair, solicited an inquiry, and a com
mittee is raised to day for that purpose.— !
The course was selected by Mr Clay, be
cause it was the only one ; the author of
the letter not being avowed, and it being
said that Mr. Kreiner did not settle differ
ences in the way of men of honour. I
have heard two reasons assigned : one
that Kremer would not fight; the other
that he was not of sufficient character to be
fought. It is much to be hoped that the
committee will be wise and pudent, and
that they may be able to light upoii some
expedient to allay the hurricane and ex
tinguish the flame ; if not, I should not be
astorfshed if the successful candidate fbr
the Presidency, should have to pass over
the murdered bodies of friends and ene
mies, before he reach the chair. I mean
should Mr. Adams or General Jackson be
the man, Mr. Crawford and his friends
being looked upon as hors de combat, have
little or nothing to do with the war—Mr.
Clay supports Mr. Adams, and I risk But
little when I say, the States of Kentucky
Ohio, and Ilinois, do likewise. It is said
that Missouri, Louisiana, New-York, and
Maryland will also vote for him, if so he
will Be elected with 13 votes. My own
opinion is, that those four last mentioned
State* will not vote fox him, at Jearst all of
script ion, iii-
will judge bv their future acts.
I he following returns fur members o‘
the Legislature have been received sincr
our last—he first named is Senator:—
Dibit. Bauer, Lamar.
Butts. Cargile, Hendricks.
Crawford. Blackstone, Kin"'
Coweta. Hicks, Pentecost.
Dooly. Scarbrough, Scarbrough.
Elbert. Allen, Heard, Tail, Davis'
Emanuel. Swain, Hicks.
Fayette. Cochran, Hicks.
Habersham. Blair, Wofford, Chastain'.
Henry. Sellers. Barnes, Glenn.
Houston. Campbell, Williams.
Daurens. Monre, Warren,-Si. QeorgC.
Monroe. Brown, Lawhon, Phillips'.
Simmons.
Muscogee. McDougald, Woolfulk-. *
Dike. Wilson, Gray.
Pulaski. Clayton, Lanier, Danieh
Troup. Sledge, Knnnon.
Twiggs. Wimberley, Bunn, Durbaffir
Dennard.
Upson. Holloway, Sturges.
Wilkinson. Beall, Wiggins, Exum
Tattnall. Tillman, Seerency.
M'Intosh. Poweil, Brailsford, King
The following is the reply of Alex. W.
Foster, Esq. candidate for State Senate
in Pennsylvania, to a demand for a pledge
to support Gen. Jackson for the Presi
dency. Mr. Foster is a friend to the
General. God grant that men of inde
pendence tnay multiply, let them belong
to what party they will J
“ We all know how much th conduct of
General Jackson has been applauded
(when in his conversation with Mr. Buch
anan who then stood in the’relation of an
elector to him,) in refusing to give the
^lightest hint as to whom he would or
would not appoint Secretary of State, let
its bearing on the election be what it
might, that if elected “ he would go into
office free and untrammelled.” If then, it
would have been dishonorable in general
Jackson to have expressed his sentiments
in relation to a subject which if he should
be elected, would necessarily come with*
re the sphere of hisoflumtl duties, euo it ha