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THE £2±\?!»J£! • Will be published ercry SATURDAY Morning , At the Corner of Walnut and Fifth Streets, IS Tilt CITV OF MACOX, GA. BY IIAKKISOY A MTEBS. T F. R M S : For the Paper, in advance, per annum, $2. If not paid in advance, $2 50, per annum. If not paid uutil the end of the Year $3 00. \Tf Advertisements will be inserted at the usual ra t e:< and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly. (Jj’ Advertisers by the Year xvillbc contracted Avith upon the most favorable terms. (FF Sales of Land by Administrators, Executors •or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours „f ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which th» Property is situate. Notice of these Sales must be given in a public gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale. (FFSales of Negroes by Administators, Execu tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction on, the first Tuesday in the month, between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv iii? notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub lic gazettes of this State, and at the door ot the Court House where such sales are to he held. CFNotice for the saleof Personal Property must he given in like manner forty days previous to the day of sale. FjfNotice to the Debtors and Creditors ofan Es tate must be published for forty days. (FpN'oticc that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne groes must be published in a public gazette in this g a te for four months, before any order absolute can be given by the Court. q for Letters of Administration on an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must i be published thirty days— for Letters of Dismis sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly so- six months— for Dismission from Guardian ship FORTY DAYS. (F/’Rui.es for the foreclosure of a Mortgage, must he punlished monthly for four months — for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of three months —for compelling 1 itlesfrom Ex ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond has been given by the deceased, the full spaced Til REF. MONTHS. N. 15. All Business of this kind shall receiv promnf attention at the SOUTH EBN MUSEUM Office, and strict care, will he taken that all legal Advertisements are published according to Law. IFpAII Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in sure attention.42l oct v g . From Sartain s Magazine. W AT E It S OF DI Alt A 11. Exodus xv., 23. BY SARAH H. BROWNE. si Waters of Marali!” thus I mused in wonder, “ Waters of Marah, have ye ceased to tlow : ' Then came a tone like low and distant thunden Or voice of many waters, answering “ No !” “ Waters of Marah,” then I questioned lightly, “ Tell me, 1 pray ye, where beneath the sun That shines so warmly, lovingly and brightly, Where do your dark and turbid currents run And the hoarse voice catne yet again, replying, “ Where’er are human strife and human woe, Where cliidings rage or discontent is sighing, There do the hitter waves of Marali flow !” Deep ill the heart of Hatred are they springing— And up they gush 'neatlr double tongued Deceit ; | And soft where Flattery’s silver rhime is ringing, They glide, with ripple marvellously sweet! They roar and dash where man assaults his brother— Where foes with hostile words or deeds con tend ; llut where to min one would lure another, Mel I ill ous murmurs to the ear they send '. But when across the Home’s dear threshold, pouring, They coldly drench the sacred hearthstone there, Till frighted far, the dove of heaven is soaring— Oil, how intensely hitter then they arc ! For there the limpid waves of peace eternal, Should roll with strong and ever rising tide; There Love—parental, filial and fraternal— In mingling streamlets should perpetual glide ! [ But oh, no plant of green and healthful growing 1 Can thrive by Marah’s dark and poisonous stream ; I And heart-born flowers with nectarous drops o’erflowing, fl Steeped in its flood, like dregs of vvorimvoad seem ! beware ye hearts whose angel mission " a " s you to feed the altar flame of Home, |^ nd ma ke ii of Earth's gardens most Elysian— I 1 hither let i lol these bitter w aters come ! wheresoe’er Affection's eye discerneth H Os Marali hot a single turbid rill, ■Cast in the Branch,* the healing Branch ilia 1 tunieth I Its angry foam to waters swoet and still ! 3 *Exodus xv. 25. - —■ THc Vanities of tlic World. U/irewell, )'“• S'lded follies, pleasing troubles ; W <‘i(.well, ye honored rags,ye gloriousbubbles. K a,n< 8 * ,u ! a hollow echo ; gold, pure clay ; *9 Mlor ’ the darling of but ono short day ; Hr. * nut .' i 'he eye’s idol, but a damasked shin ; •''ate, but a golden prison to live in, ■Auii torture free-born minds; embroidered trains r cl\ but pagoants tor proud swelling veins; BAnd blood allied to greatness is alone • nheriied, not purchased, not our own. ■ llonor ' beauty, state, train, blood mid birth, ■Arc ut the fuding blossoms of the earth. THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM. IST HARRISON k MYERS. TOM TIPP, THE MAW OK GENIUS. BY THE AUTHOR OP YANKEE NOTIONS. Tom Tipp was a great genius. His in fant years were marked by uncommon pre cocity of intellect.—The same thing, in deed, has been said of sundry other per sons ; butriu Tom’s case we have the fact upon unquestionable authority. The first bent of genius displayed itself by a shrewd discovery in the science of bread and but ter. How many full grown people there are who cannot tell which side their bread is buttered ! Yet Tom found this out very scon after he cut his teeth. As he grew bigger he grew more cunning; and was pronounced as bright a child as you would see of a summer’s day. He demolished picture hooks and smash ed crockery, in a style that showed he would speedily hocotne a smait, enterpris ing man. These anticipations were soon fulfilled. He played truant and heat the school mistress, by the time other boys had mastered half the alphabet. Need I say more i Every body called him a lad of spirit, and predicted he would make a noise in the world. It is not exactly known at what age he fi st got into debt—that manly exploit which is sure to make the career of a man of genius at a very early period. Let it suffice, that he ran up scores in various quarters, to the annoyance of parents and the astonishment of the neighborhood. Other trifling school hoy pranks may he passed over, ‘ tricks had he in him which gentlemen have.’ At college, Tom kept up his character; he robbed hen roosts, badgered the tutors, raised rebellions, set fire to the college, and attained to the glory of a speedy expulsion. A career so bril liant at the outset promised great things ; and Tom was set down by all his acquain tances as a lad of undoubted spirit and genius. In truth, he thought as much of himself, and was determined to make his fortune as soon as he had sown his wild oats. He had five thousand dollars to be gin with. Two or three years did Torn spend in admiring the smoo.hness of his pantaloons, as he walked up and down llroadwav ; two or three more in cultivating whiskers; and two or three more in cocking his hat over his left ear. He now thought himself fin ished and quite the thing; and all the town called him a likely fellow. At this critical moment, lie put his hand in his pocket for a live dollar hill, and, to his snip ise, found his pocket empty. T’other pocket was empty too, and his surprise grew into astonishment, when a farther scrutiny informed him that all his cash was gone. ‘ Five thousand dollars !’ exclaim ed he in amazement ; ‘ and is it all gone V Echo answered—‘ Gone !’ Was ever a discovery more tnal-a-propos? An ordinary morial would have been over whelmed by it; hut Torn instantly be thought himself, that lie was a man of ge nius, and this all to rights. * I have on’y to make my fortune,’ said he, * that’s all. Yes, I’ll make my fortune without putting it oft’any longer; what signifies waiting V So saying, Tom went off to the theatre and thought no more about it. A day or two afterwards, a tailor’s hill came staring him in the face. Tom put his hand in his pocket, and was again re minded of his want of cash and his pos sessi/>n of genius. ‘ Pshaw!’ said he, ‘l’ll make my fortune—l’d quite forgot to do it; hut it seems to he time now.’ Tom having said this, lighted his segar with the hill, pulled up his cravat, and sallied forth upon a stroll. Not many weeks after came a third re memberance, in the more emphatic shape of a constable, with an awkward looking scrap of a paper. Tom got rid of him with some difficulty ; for constables are a sort of folks that hold you fig men of genius in no gteat respect. —‘ Really,’ said Tom, ‘ I must make my fortune ; 1 may as well do it now and have it over—so let me think of it the first thing to-morrow morning.’ With these words Tom went off to What’s his-name’s, up the street, and called for champagne and oysters. Tom’s fortune making scheme appeared to he totally forgotten by him for three months longer, and no body can tell to what extent his forge fulness would have run, had it not been disturbed by another of those perverse accidents which seem to he designed by the malignant fates to bother gentlemen of genius, likely fellows, and such high-minded sublimities on two legs. Tom was one evening lacingup his pan taloons for a hall. ‘Not handsome,’ said lie, looking in the glass, hut ‘killing gen teel.’ At this moment the cassimers gave way, in a disastrous rent at the knee !’ ‘T’other pair, then,’ said he; hut alas! Tom had not another pair! ‘ Bah !’ lie exclaimed, cash, credit and pantaloons gone! then I must make my fortune, and so gore goes !” At these decisive words Tom sat down to make his fortune ; and began to rub his head and think. A man of genius has, of course, the world at his command, and Torn debated at first with himself, whether he would bo secretary of state or minister to the court of St. James. Both offices had some thousands of dollars salary, and Tom was of opinion that either might do till something better cast up. His cogita tions, however, were awakwardlv inter rupted by the recollection that possibly neither of the actual incumbents could he displaced without some loss of time, while tailoTs are plaguy impatient. So Tom MACON, FEBRUARY 3. 1819. concluded that the safest project would he to make love to the daughter of old Niggs, the tallow-chandler. She had red hair, and was considerably short and thick. * A dumpy thing,’ said Tom, ‘ hut what of that !’—The old man will cut up heavy when he goes off, besides what he’ll fork over on the wedding day. Dorothy Niggs was neither coy nor co quettish, and as for Tom, was not he irre sistible l 'I o make a long story short, lom found no great difficulty in gaining her heart, for let me whisper the secret — it was the first offer she had ever had, al though more than —no matter how ni3ny years old. Tom considered the business as good as done ; so being desirous to des-* patch matters because creditors cannot wait for ever, and a man of genius without money is constrained to keep his talen s, and possibly his person, hidden from the public gaze, to the great loss of the com munity, he waited upon old Niggs, to re ceive his consent. He sat in his arm chair reading a Prices Current. A sheepskin pocket book, very much worn, lay at his elbow on a thin quarto volume, entitled I Hewlett’s Fables of Interest. Tom stated his business, and the old man lifted up his j spectacles; but kept fast hold of the news- j paper. ‘ Oh, I uiuleistand. Are you in the gro cery line V No, sir,’ replied Tom, in some sur prise. ‘ Beg pardon. I thought 1 had seen your name in the advertisement. Hem! hem! where was it ! Ah ! here it is. Thomson and Tipp, Water street, two hundred hogsheads of molasses.’ ‘Altogether a mistake, I assure you,’ said Tom. * In the hardware trade V 1 Not at all.’ ‘Perhaps dry goods V 4 By no means,’ returned Tom, growing j a little uneasy. ‘ Crockery V * Neither.’ ‘ General Commission V ‘ Can’t say it is.’ ‘You an’t in the soap boiling way V ‘ Never was.’ ‘ Speculating, I’ll warrant ?’ ‘ Not exactly,’ replied Tom, beginning j to feel quite alarmed at the oddity of these j querries; ‘ I—l don’tdomuch in the way of business just now.’ ‘ Ah! I understand,’ said old Niggs, with a knowing kind of grin ; and at the same lime laying down his newspaper. ‘ Property all sting, live on your income ! Real estate ! hey, or bank stock V Tom sat with his head considerably for- I ward during these awakward questions. | He felt a sort of fidgity embarrassment l quite unusual for men of genius in the presence of a tallow-chandler. He fum bled with the tassel of his cane, and fal tered out a reply. ‘ Neither sir; the fact is that owing to peculiar circumstances, my property has very considerably diminished of late, or rather, I may say, entirely disappeared. The first movement of Niggs at these words was a throw hack of his head with a stare of unutterable astonishment. The next was to let it fall again with a very forcibly sniffy expiration through the nose that spoke a whole volume of language. His face instantly assumed the most stub born and stoical indifference of expression, while lie adjusted his spectacles with great calmness, took up his newspaper, crossed one leg over the other, and pre’en ded to study the fluctuations of Rusia tal low with might and main. There was no mistaking his demeanor. Tom saw in an instant it was all over with him. He caught up his hat and rushed out of the room. Such a catastrophe as this lie had never so much as dreamed of. A man of geni us to be without cash or credit and not a hle to get a tallow chandler’s daughter for a wife ! The thought was madness. To morrow, the whole story would be about ; town! •Wbatis to become of me,’ ex claimed Tom. ‘By heaven ! 1 won’t live another hour in this rascally world! I’ll shoot myself! I’ll hang myself! Tom in his confusion, had quitted the house by the wrong door, and at these words found himself in the backyard. A well was be fore him. I’ll drown myself!’ said he, and jumped in ! Now drowning one’s self is no joke al though talking of it may he. Many a man thinks better of his determination to do it, in a short walk to the head of the wharf. Before lie had fallen half way, he caught at the rope, and hung dang'ing for-some minutes, till liis slregth failed, and then he gently slipped to the bottom. Don't be frightened, reader, the water was only knee deep, and our hero landed with no other harm than wet feet. 1 would advise all sensible persons not to jump into a well till they have thought twice of it. Tom had not been in the well ten minutes befo e he was heartily sick of drowning. He would have climb ed up, hut he was not able ; and there he was forced to remain counting the tninu es and the hours till iic was positive he had been in water half a con'ury. llmv long | it really was I never learned, but just as ] he had given himself up for lost, he heard a voice crying wildly. ‘ I'll drown my self! Tom was in such astonishment at these words, that he had no power to speak. Presently someone approached the well, exclaiming, • Poor Tom, dear Tom ! 1 shall never sec you again. Cruel,' hard hearted father! I’ll drown myself! and break his heart.’ ‘ Tis Dorothy ! by heaven !’ said Tom to himself. ‘ fcho going to drown herself for love of me, the dear, faithful, kind hear ted soul.’ 4 1 o love a livers'* ardent! so generous; No, no ! I cannot live ! Ye stars, fare well ! Oh! deep abyss open thv awful jaws and take a wretched despairing maid!’ ‘Capital !’ exclaimed Tom, at the bot tom ot the well, and all so exquisitely sincere!—She’s an angel! Come to my arms, thou sweet enchantress—one leap, and its done !’ But Doro'hy did not lead, she was re solved like Caesar, to die with dignity. She laid hold of the rope and slid gently down, perhaps from a misgiving that her purpose might cool before she got to the bottom, in which case it is convenient to protect the body as well as suspend the resolution. Now it is much easier to slide down a rope than to climb, s that Doro thy’s change of opinion on the subject of drowning, which took place in transient, did not prevent her from plumping souse into the water, and she uttered an uuea<th ly scream at finding herself in the arms of a man. ‘ In the name of heaven, who are you ? ! A man or a fish V 4 Only your own dear Tom. Do I look like a fish V 4 My h'essed stars! and how came you here V 4 Jumped in out of pure despair—meant to drown myself!’ ‘ Poor fellow ! don’t die, l beg of you, fir my sake don’t.’ 4 I won’t indeed—besides, this drown ing isn’t exactly what it’s cracked up to he.’ 4 Mercy on us ! wUat shall we do V How long they continued to ask each other questions of this sort, we arc unable to state, hut tete-a-tete at the bottom of a well must he long enough in all consi cnee, if it lasts hut half a day. So thought our two lovers who just began to feel se rious apprehension of being the subjects of ‘crowner’s quest,’ when they licatd a noise above. It was the voice of old Niggs, who approached the well exc'aim ing in an almost rueful tone, • l’i/j undone ! I won’t live to endure it! 4 What! more drowning !’ said Tom in grea'er astonishment than ever. ‘ What can ail the old put V ‘Lost! lost! lost! lost! exclaimed old Niggs, leaning his head over and looking down into the well. ‘ Ah ! his daughter !’ said Tom, ‘ how lie takes her loss to heart.’ ‘ My cash ! my cash ! I shall nfever sec it again !’ bawled out the old man. 4 Not in a well,’ replied Tom. 4 Oh ! that cursed Cape Flyaway Land Company that 1 brought into’— 4 And < liis cursed well that I jumped in to,’ said Tom. ‘ I’ll drown myself, I’ll drown!’ With these words old Niggs caught hold of the rope, and went hand over first down nearly to the bottom, when Tom put a stop to his descent by a tremendous halloo. 4 Mercy preserve us !’ cried the old fel low, ‘ who’s there !’ 4 An unfortunate man !’ said Tom. ‘ Land speculation !’ demanded Niggs fearfully. 4 No—a love specu'ation,’ replied Tom. 4 Oho ! 1 think 1 know you. Come hero to drown V 4 Exactly. And now I think wc know one another. You may drown if you sec fit and then 1 will take your daughter.’ 4 1 think 1 won’t,’ replied old Niggs, 4 for I’ve no doubt the company will pay at least fifty per ccut. I’ve thought better of it.’ •Good,exclaimed Tom. ‘ We'll all live and be merry. You wouid’nt have me tell of this queer affair about town ; you know it m’ght set some folks a laughing, eri V ‘ For heaven’s sake, never mention it, Mr. T om, and Dolly is yours!’ How they got out of the well vve have not time to say ; hut old Niggs was soon reconciled to the loss of half liis money. Tom married Dorothy, kept tlio secret, and went into partnership with his father in-law. He has given up liis pretensions to tiie character of a man of genius, hut enlightens the world by selling mould and dipped candles on the lowest terms for cash or approved credit. Beauties of Nature.— A single flower will serve as well as an atmosphere to prove design. Even a grain of sand hears unmistakeable marks of the fingers of a most exquisite artist. The marvellous thing would he, if so much as a particl© of matter could ho found which proclaimed itself to he formless and designless. There is none such in the universe. We should be terrified if we found one. CK7”An Irish gentleman once remarked in the House of Commons, that the French were the most restless nation in the world adding very pointedly. “ They will never he at peace until they are engaged in an other war. ’ remember witnessing the com plete discomfiture of a wit, of no infe rior order, by a message, politely deliv ered a? a supper party by a little girl : “ If you please, Mr. B , mamma sends her compliments, and would be much obliged if you would begin to be fan vf' VOLUME 1-NUMBER 10. Struggles es a Yankee In England. ’Flic Merchant’s Magazine has a very interesting le’ter, dated Stafford, Eng., Aug., 15th, ISIS, and addressed to the late Dixon H. Lewis by his friend J. R. Remington, a native of Alabama, who is the inventor of anew patent m dc of con structing bridges. After unavailing at tempts to create a demand for his patent among the wise men at Washington, Mr. Remington departed for England, and readied London the Ist of January, 1817. Ho was without money or friends. For five months he spent his time in a search which proved unavailing, for some man who would take an interest in liis inven tion. Even Mr. George Bancroft, on whom he called two or three times, ap pears to have failed to extend to him the slightest encouragement or aid. Reming ton was soon reduced to the most abject straits, though he proudly avers that he never begged or asked a favor of any man. He lived on wretchedly baked corn bread, and slept on straw, for which he paid a half penny per night. He became so ragged and filthy that he could not go amom> men of business ; and finally severe disease was induced by tha exposure to cold, the pri vation and had fare to which lie was sub jected. His limbs were distorted with rheumatism, liis face swelled with cold and toothache, and his hair turned prema turely gray. IBs object now was to procure an ad mission to the Royal Zoological Gardens in order to make a proposition to the pro prietor. But he had not the shilling which was necessary to procure him admission and a hearing. What dues lie do in liis despair, hut give a Jew his acknowledge ment for ,£lO on demand in consideration of one shilling! He enters the Garden, communicates with Mr. Tyler, the propri etor, and finally persuades him to let him -put up a model of his patent bridge. The model is completed—a poor thing, hut one that will give some idea of his plan. He now wants Mr. Tyler to let him throw a budge on this plan across the lake in the Gargens. Well—hut first the model must he examined by engineers and men of science to decide whether it is practi cable. They are called in. They admire the model, hut declare, most of them, that it could not he carried to a much greater length in a bridge than the model itself measured. ‘ This was the point of life or death with rne,’ says Remington. ‘ 1 was standing amidst men of the supposed greatest tal ents as civil engineers that the world could produce, and the point was decided against me. This one time alone were my whole energies ever aroused. I never talked be fore—l was haggard and faint for want of food—my spirits sunk in sorrow in view of my mournful pmspects—clothes, I had none—yet, standing over the model did I | battle with these men. Every word I ut- j tered came from my inmost soul, and was big with truth—every a gument carried conviction.’ lie succeeded. Ho induced Tyler to let him build the bridge—the sole cotuli- | tion being that if the bridge should sue- I ceed it should he called Remington's | Bridge. He went to work ; and ragged as lie was, gave his directions to the well clothed master carpenters. \ lie principle of the new bridge consisted in the longi tudinal power of timber being applied in a curvilinear form, by which every por tion of the material is brought at once into play, and supports an equal share of the i strain. Ins’ead of springing from the a-' hutments as an arched, or resting upon ' them as a horizontal bridge, the stringers may he said to hang or he suspended from the piers, thus bringing the principle of! the longitudinal hearing into action. The bridge triumphed ; and lias prfived one of the greatest hits ever made in Lou don. Thousands flocked to see it, and to I this day it is the prominent curiosity of the Gardens. Remington describes his ecstacy iri being enabled to put on a clean ; shirt. Orders soon pYmrod in from the no bility and others for similar bridges. He \ lias now more orders on hand than he can execute in ten years ; and fame and for-j tunc are day-dreams to him no longer. \ But he writes with unconcealed bitterness | and in a misanthropic spirit : the effect, it j would seem, of the sufferings and priva- 1 tiotts lie endured, when a kindly word or j a succoring hand would have, been more | to him than the acclamations of myriads or the wealth of a Rothschild could he to hint now. It is a terrihle thought to remem ber that nothing can he forgotten. 1 have somewhere read that, not an oath is uttered that does not vibrate through all time, in the wide-spreading currents of sounds— not a prayer lisped that its record is not also to he found stamped on the laws of nature, by the indelible seal of the Al mighty's will.” K47*The cornpletest pun in the records of literature is produced in the following words, which were subscribed on a tea chest “Tu doces,” which is the second persons singular oftlie vetll docco. to teach, and when literally translated, becomes Thou teacdest. all the passions, jealousy is that which exacts the hardest service, and pays the bitterest wages ; for its service is to watch the success of our enemy, and its wages to he sure of it. BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, » id i>e ixe-ju'td in the most approved style, and on the best terms,at the Office ofthe “SOUTHERN MUSEUM;’ —BY— HARRISON A- MYERS. From Magnate's Orators es the Am. RncolutWn RAXDOLH OK ROANOKE. John Randolph was six feet high. Hr. | had elevated shudders, a small head, and a physiognomy, all the parts of which were entirely uiiiutellectual, except the eye. His hair was dark, thin and lank, and lay close to his head. His voice was shrill as a fife,and itsclear, (-bricking tones could he distinctly heard by a large audi etice. The muscles and skin about his lace were shriveled and cadaverous, like wrinkled parchment; his whole form was so attenuated and meagre, that, tall ns he was, his acquaintance supposed him not to weigh more than 130 lbs. ’Flic author of ‘‘Clinton Bradshaw, who enjoyed a favorable opportunity of observing the strange being, has given us the following graphic description of his person, habiliments, and manners : “ His long, thin legs, about as thick as a walking-cane, aud of much such a shape, were encased inapairof light small-clothes so tight they seemed part and parcel of the wearer. Handsome white stockings were fastened with great tidiness at the knees by a gold buckle, and over them, coming about half-way up the calf, were a pair of what I believe were culled hose, country-knit. He wore shoes : they wero old fashioned, and fastened also with buck les—large ones. He trod like an Indian, without turning his toes out, hut planking them right ahead. It was the fashion in those days to wear a fan tailed coat, with a small collar, with bu'tons far apart on the hack, with hut few on the breast. Mr. Randolph’s was the reverse of this. In s'ead of being fan tail, it was what l be lieve the knights cf the needle call swal low-tailed ; the collar was immensely large; the buttons were in kissing proximity, and they sat as close on the breast of the gar ment as the feast or* at a crowded festival, liis waist was so remarkable slender, that as hestood with liis arms akimbo, he could easily, as I thought, with his long, bonv fingers, have spanned it. Around him, his coat, which was very tight, v, ss held to gether by one button, aud in consequence, an inch or more of tape, to which the but ton was attached, was perceptible where it was pulled through the cloth. About his neck he wore a white cravat, in which his chin was occasionally hurried as N he moved his head in conversation ; no shirt collar was perceptible ; every other per son seemed to pride himself on the size of his, as they were then worn large. Mr! Randolph’s complexion was precisely that of a mummy—withered, saflron, dry and bloodless: you could not have placed a pin’s point on liis face, where you would not have touched a wrinkle. His lips were thin, compressed and coloiless ; the chin,beardless as a hoy’s,was broad for the size of his face, which was small* his nose was straight, with nothing remarkable in it, except that it wat too short. He wore a fur cap, which betook off, standing a few minutes uncovered. Fancy a dead man struck into life by lightning, and all his life in his eyes, and you have a picture of John Randolph.” From the Yankee Blade. “Better Wear Out, than liust Out.” Considering how may licadflawg. vexa tions, and trials one meets with in the course of an active life, it is not strange thul many become disgusted with business, and long to withdraw from the throng of men, to spend their days in retirement, peace, and quietness. But disagreeable as may he their situation, it may well he doubted whe her they would gain anythin” by flying from even the most uncongenial pursuits to enjoy the fancied sweets of idleness in a corner. The charms of soli tude look exceedingly attractive, as viewed through the heightening and embellishing medium of poetry ; and no doubt there is much pleasure in occasional intervals of that sort; Ini', taken in large doses, the thing soon becomes a bore. Say what you will about the troubles of life, it is best after all for every one to keep afloat upon the sea of existence, partaking of its roll, aud ever-varying scenery and pursuits. It is true storms and tempests may sweep along liis track ; the sails mny he tern now and then, and the bottom grazed, and there is danger always of even total shipwreck; hut better brave all these risks than ho lying high and dry on land, will the cer tain fate of rotting and crumbling to pie ces.—There are a few lazy, sleepy-headed fellows in every society, who might per haps doze away life in solitude with a de gree of oyster-like satisfaction ; hut your “smart” healthy-minded, wide-awake man, would he in such a situation like a fish ont of water —or rather like an em bayed whale, spending on a vain lashing of the waves the streng'h designed for making liis way in the open sea, The competitions es business and ambition— the hardships, cares, and perplexities of life—the thwartings and disappointments one exp riences at every step in his ca reer, are not after all unmitigated evils ; they have all tbeir use in disciplining a man- in awakeking new sensations and energies. They have been well compared to the north-easters of our temperate cli mate —unpleasant, hut bracing; severe somewhat upon the herbage, but repaying us a thousand-fold in thedispersugi which they give to those noxious influences which ift stiller atmospheres fester till p.Q duce fevers and plagues.