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■3--I-J'
fROK TilX KllAHKI-IW
HOME OK MY YOUTH!
Il.nuo of my youth! with font) Hcllnht,
Ou tucc dors recollection dwell;
Horn* «>f my youth, how gaily origin.
Tiie scenes Hint childhood loved so well
Cot of my lathers! well I know,
The spot thal saw my int.uit dawn,
Near i he green hum, the old elui row—
The village spire—the grassy law n.
Oil, sweet lo me the laughing horn's,
When earth seemed gay heave., was fair,
V hen fancy culled her thornless dow ers,
And pleasure reigned link now 11 to cine.
Home of my youth! this heart away,
Jtrcai .those moments dear to ine ,
Often in dreams will mem'ry '
f Ionic of my youth—to w e<-T ,y er 1,11
THE FIELD OF B VTTLE-
HY THOMV* PFWROSKs
fPaintly hrnv'd the battle a roar,
Distant down the hollow wind ;
■Punting terror fled before,
' Wounds and doalh were left behind.
{The war-fiend curs'd the sunken day,
That check’ll his fierce pursuit too soon ,
While, scarcely lighting to the prey,
Low hung, and loiir-dthe bloody moon.
The field, so Intc (he hem's pride,
Was now with various carnage spreud ,
And floated w ith n crimson tide,
That drench'd the dying”'
O'er the sad scene of dreariest view.
Abandon'd all to horrors wild,
"Willi li antic step Marin flew,
Ma a, sorrow's early child ;
Mind the dead.
By duty led, for every vein
Was warm’d by Hymen's purest flame;
With Edgar o’er’the wint’ry main
Mie, lovely, faithful wanderer came.
’Though look'd for long—in chill allright,
(The torrent bursting from her eye)
She heard the signal fur the fight—
While her soul trembled in a sigh—
Shu heard and clasp'd him to her breast,
Yet scarce could urge th' inglorious stay;
H,. manly heurt the charm uonf-st—
Ther, broke the charm,—and rush'd away
Too soon in few—but deadly words,
Some flying straggler In rath'd to tell,
Thai in the foremost strife of swords
The young, ihe gallant Edgar tell.
-She, prestto hear—she caught the (ale—
At every sound her blood congeal'd ;—
With terror hold—with terror pule,
Shu sprung to search tin fatal field.
OV" the sad scene in dire ainuze
She went—with courage not her own—
.On many a corpse she cast berguze—
And turn’d hercarto many a groan.
»i •ear anguish urged her to press
Full many n hand, us wild she mourn'd
—Of comfort glad, the drear caress
The dump, chill, dying Imnd return'd.
Her ghastly hope was well nigh fled—
When late pule Edgar's form she found,
/Half-buried with Ine hostile dead,
And gor’d with many a grisly wound.
She knew—she sunk—the night-bird scream'd
—The moon withdrew her troubled light,
y)n.l left the fair,—though fall'll she seem'd—
To worse than death—and deepest night.
soul to Heaven.” Weills the Sabbath morn
preceded by n night in which happiness pre
pares the heart for devotion.
*J nre. which Hum* has drawn of
thal id scene, i= fell by every one who
| lng n heurt—but they alone can see
H ||; y, who have visited the firesides
„f t ish peasantry, and joined in their
(um.i hip. They who hu\e done so,
sl >e oral nothing hut the xiinjdo truth
infilled, reduc'd and elevated by
de.v i to become the highest poetry.
Mn tnrday night has the writer of this
joir hat simple service; more than
’one v death had just visited the cot-
tag, * t all times, whether those of joy
or; lb. ■ there was the same su.einn re-
sigi i the divine, will ; the same ini-
ipic • , humble, wise, submission—the
san ie.t peace, mid even lofty liappi-
ties lid he ever sec one shudder, nor
lieu ill that Seemed to signify despair.
“ T cling down to Heaven's Eternal
The m ic father, and the husband prays ;
Hop, -i ' ;s exulting on triumphant w ing,
Tin tine biey all shall meet in future days
Tie i bask in.uncreated rays,
,\'o '■ sigh, or shed the hitter tear ;
Tog. )iymning their Creator’s praise,
lu Ipcty, yet Mill more dear,
Wh ling time moves round in an eternal
i ■ re.”
'i time thal I witnessed and partook
of 'pliiess as this, was one serene und
he: rinonlight night, during last fun
ha. had been roaming all day among
tile • ieeiit. woods that overshadow the
Oh n ledintcly above and below Bulli-
wi It * i:, near w hich I had passed some
of in' y years—and rt the fall of the e-
venin itered a cotfugo which 1 had often
visi't-d w ren a boy, and of which the master
wa> ■ • n at that time a gray-headed patii-
ari ... t found the, ohl man still alive, and
sit ng n liis arm chair hv the fire-side—the
same' 'ncrahle image that he was nearly n
years
pe' f.
what
as Hi
so rmnnmn in dreams, I knew not whence
I hud come, or whither 1 was journeying :
a sense of uiisuppurtublo. weariness was till
1 knew of life. Soon as 1 entered the cottage,
I felt as if 1 had been there before, though
every thing seemed wofully and ruefully to
hnve been changed. The w et, stained, dum
my, und naked walls breathed over the room
the cold sir of discomfort and desertion—
the few articles of furniture were liited for
the mean, vile, and miserable dwelling—and
the dickering I'ght from a small oil-lump on
tlie clay-door, by which the wretchedness
around' was visible, at times seemed to ex
pire utterly, ns the gusts of wind blew through
the broken panes of a window half closed
up with rags and with straw. 1 felt over
my whole body the shivering tremor of
that superstitious fear that strikes the heart
in dark, wild and solitary places, and that
congeals one’s very life-ldood, 4* it assails
us w hen reason is enchained by sleep. In
this ghastly loneliness I heard a I off. dec])
broken groan ; and as I hoiked intensely in
to the gloom, an old man seemed sitting be
fore me, by the dead ashes of a scanty lire,
with long lacks, whiter than the snow, anil
cheeks as sunken and as wan as if he had
risen from his grave. Can this ghost, thought
I in dim perplexity, he Ins whom I have of
ten seen kneeling in prayer among his fami
ly, and whose reverend countenance fe.lt,
not many nights ago, the cheerful light of
that happiest fireside r What dmuifui thing
has happened to hitn or to me 2 1 strove to
speak to the old man in his loneliness, hut
the words were all frozen in my breast, and
I stood convulsed in the dunthnets of agoni
zing passion. Hut the reality deepened and
closed in upon me, and the corpse rising up,
stood close to iny side, and l heard a voice,
•‘Oh ! Scotland! Scotland! hast thou for
gotten thy find!” At these words 1 was at
in the earth is a grave—hut wo have no laws, I
1 believe, against, burial-grounds—only we
must not call them kirk-yards—for where
now urr the. kirks? This has been a glori
ous day for Scotland. More limit a thou-
and kirks have crumbled into ashes—and
to-morrow, not a bell will be heard ringing
from Tintock to Cape Wrath !” The blns-
lhci.ier w axed fiercer in my dream, and ycl-
ed out in triumph. *" At one and the same
hour, fire w as set to all the houses of (hid,
from sea to sea. Did lie, think ye, tell the
storms that Mew all day, and arc yet bravely
blowing, to play the hollow’s to the lire? No
the winds came without his bidding, and be
fore it. is down again, nil the. tabernacles of
the Lord will he dust, cinders, ashes.—Huz
za for the downfall ol'supe.rstilion !” tjuiek
are the transitions in dreams. “Where is
Margaret ?” asked the old man; and 1 knew
lie was .speaking of his grand-daughter.-—
“ She is at. Elmwood—and we shall have
her to feed no longer.—The old fool there
Intes upon her—and if the girl will live with
Sheriff's Sole.
W IT.I, he sold on the first Tuesday in July
next, between the usual hours of sale, at
the court-house in the town of Dublin, Laurens
county, the following property, to wit:
282 lu res of land, well improved, lying on
the waters of Big creek, adjoining Hightower
mid Turner Ala son ; taken as the property of
Henry Culpepper, to satisfy an execution in fa
vour of the State of Georgia ngniust Alfred
Thompson, tax-collector of Lamm* county for
tho year 1818, and Henry Culpeppor, Jacob
Farmer and Charles I’ovvol, his securities; also,
202 1-2 acres of loud in the twenty-second
district Wilkinson now Laurens rounly, num
ber 00-1, on the waters of Rocky* creek ; also
one lot of land 202 1-2 acres adjoining the n
hove tract, taken as the property of Charles
l’oivel, to satisfy (lie above execution.
13 head of cattle, taken ns the property of
James Beaty, to satisfy executions in favor of
William II. Parrlmorc, and others.
One lot of land, No. 180, in the second dis
trict of Wilkinson now Lnurens county, taken
ns th« property of Samuel Paiincy, to satisfy
executions in favor of the administrators of R.
him, w hy not ? She is 15 years old—and | Braswel, deceased—levied on by* constable and
able enough to judge for herself? “ God returned to me.
forgive her,” cried the startled mother, ns One half of lot of hind No. 272, in the second
nature rose within her hardened heart, »(the district of \\ilkirtson now Laurens county, con
sin and shame of her cliild. “ Fool,” grow I- tninlng lot 1-4 acres, taken ns the property of
ed the husband, “ on this very day, were MiUiainM, Price, to satisfy three executions in
not all tho kirks ou fire ? How long will that
senseless word keep stammering on your
lips ? The girl needs no forgiveness—let her
client the decrepit miser, and who shall say
that she ought not to have plundered his
hoards of yellow gold ?” “Is thechild—iny
little Margaret—is she—have, these deaf ears
heard aright—is she a harlot, and an adul
teress ?” And w ith these words, the old man
bowed Ins head, till the gray locks fell down
even unto (he very floor. The unnatural
son answered not a word, hut scowling over
the, room, which sremeu th" very cave of
once transformed into a lining of iny dream,! famine, fiercely demanded supper, to which
and knew what had befallen my country.— j demand his wife replied with a loud hysteri-
Throne and altar had been overturned, and ml laugh, “ that the glutton at his knee, (for
... ... ... the land was free. Hut I was wandering,
only his locks d possible ought, I hat stormy midnight, dogged
lively white, his cheeks some- a j | 1UP | M |,y persecution anil murder; and
■ uid pur
ins wan and his eyes almost as dim
.< of blindness itself, llis daughter,
u! been the beauty of the parish when
t sdioo 1 was now a meek and gentle
and car, l an infant in her arms ;
Jc r children, with eyes and features
.jp mother’s, were cheerfully occupi-
i>< door, half in business and half in
IV hen 1 had made myself known to
t and liis daughter, it is needless to
The Radical's Saturday Night.
Of all the poems of Uurns, the Cottar’s
Saturday Night is universally felt to be most
beautiful am) interesting. That picture of
domestic peace and purity was drawn by the
poet when his own soul was peaceful and
pure ; and accordingly, there sleeps over it a
calm and untroubled light, through wilier,
the virtues, the wisdom, and happiness of
lowly life shine forth in sublime simplicity.
Wo know tint this delightful poem was com
posed at the plough, and that Hums cheered
his kind and noble healt during the toil by
which he supported liis ILtheris household,
with the strains that hrotkht Wividly before
it i nages of all tile most\icred filings by
which that household was messed. It is no't
possible to imagine any speAacle more glo
rious to a country, than that pf such a pea
sant so employed. Poor, hut unrepining—
toiling, hut not overborne—almost a boy in
years, hut a man in strength, patience, e.ndu-
Tanee, and heroism—unconscious in liis sim
plicity of his own greatness—blind to the
destiny, at once so dark and so bright, that
was awaiting him—and yet, we inay well
suppose, not unvisited by nigh and aspiring
4li eights—there waked that peasant behind
h * plough, whom liis country, through all
f it tie generations, will honor as the poet &
benefactor of her people. This poem was
composed in his heart beneath the sunshine
end the clouds; and when the hours of bo
dily toil and mental inspiration were gone by
(and with Burns they were the same,) he re
turned at nightfall to his father’s house, and
sat down reverently ill presence of the gray
h i.r which in* kept sacred from the ashes
of poverty and affliction. Tile poem, there
fore, is one of sustained and almost perfect
beauty ; for every morning he brought to it
a heart fresh with joyfulness Si virtue, while
the intervals of composition were thus filled
with all the thoughts, feelings, and images
thn'. his genius has rendered immortal. The
subject was a happy one—happy beyond
what could have been the lot of any poet
b >rn in any other country. For, in Hcot-
land alone, and l say so with a due sense of
the virtues of England, does there exist a-
mo ig the peasantry a union of knowledge,
mo -.ility, and religion, so universal, anil so
intense, and so solemn, as to constitute Na
tional Character—to hallow and sublime that
Gturht which feels, as it were, the influence
of ihe. approaching Sabbath, and to render it
* weekly festival, held both in mirthful glad-
someue.is, and in pious composure of heart.
It is the spirit of religion that makes the cot-
tar’s Saturday night at once delightful and
nwrul to our imagination, and a fit subject for
the very highest of all poetry. We' know,
tnot on that night the Bible is opened in ten
thousand dwellings—and that the voice of
psalms and of prayer is heard deep down in
the glens &, high up on the hills of Scotland.
Oil that night I will not t ay that the. hard
ships and wants of lowly life are all forgot
ten by tiiose whose lot it is to endure them ;
for strong and tenacious must needs he the
memory of the poor; hut 1 will sav that if
their hardships and wants are not then for
gotten, so neither are their enjoyments and
their blessings; that in Hip caim'confidence
■which the humble feel when on their knees
before God and their Redeemer, fear and
sorrow minister unto piety; that it is suffici
ent for their gratitude, that while their bles
sings are so great, their miseries arc not far
greater—and that human life with all its in
evitable woes, seems yet, to the contented
cottar, a scene never wholly deserted by the
sunshine of a gracious Heaven. Truly may
31 In*, said, that in Scotland, the last night of
•every week, “ divides the. year, and lifts Ute
I was
1111
wl ; l|.
liki t!
cd on
plr>
the fa
say With what warmth of hospitality I was
welcomed. The old man rose from liis seat
as sinm us I told my name, and it was then
that I siv in liis lettering steps that the
hand of time had touched him, more heavily
than at first sight l had supposed. After 1
had n: aieii the simple story of my own life,
1 I i . ; -at of theirs—that nothing had hap-
pe . d 1 i them since 1 came to bid them lare-
wi I that summer morning I left school,
ex. -pt !. it the old man’s daughter had been
in (ns I saw) to the lover of her youth ;
ari.i th fix children had been horn, of whom
tw , a the mother mentioned it, with a
lo .' v , but without tears, had been taken
to . Maker. The husband afterwards
cn i . ind before our simple evening meal
was .1 -i I felt as if 1 had been for years an
ininati “the happy and innocent family.
I 1 • old man then said to me, with a kind
voi t he hoped that I had not forgot-
t- . h i fife I had led in foreign countries,
i)i i'-ginp. observances of the peasantry of
■l' ■ v kind. And, as he was speaking,
-daughter a beautiful girl of about
, eais, brought the “ big Ita’ bilde” it
lair ; gently upon liis knees. “ My eyes nre
not so good,” said the. pious patriarch, “as
when you and your school companions used
to come to visit us of old, but there is still
light enough left in them whereby to read
the word of God.” Nothing could be more
affecting than the. tremulous voice of the old
man, whose gray hairs were so soon to In
laid in the earth, as hu read, amidst the. pro-
foundest silence, that chapter of the New
Testament that records the. crucifixion. And
afterwards when the psalm was sung—those
same feeble and almost mournful tones were
beyond measure touching, as tbev blended
with the small pipes of the children, and the
sweet melody of Ihe female voices. During
the prayer that followed, l could not help
looking around on the Jtiie.eling family—and
I saw close to the white locks of him whose
race was nearly run, the bright and golden
head of his little favorite grandson, who, du
ring almost the whole evening, had been sit
ting on Ids grandfather’s knee. The love of
God seemed to descend alike on-infancy and
old age. The purity of the one. allied itself
to the piety of the other—and the prayer of
him who was just leaving life seemed to
bring blessing on the head of him who was
just entering upon it. When we all arose
together from the prayer, a solemn hush
prevailed for a few minutes over the room,
till our hearts, by degrees, returned to the
thoughts that had previously possessed them,
and our conversation, though somewhat
more grave than before, recurred to the or
dinary topics and business of life.
I need not narrate that conversation, for it
was interesting to me chiefly from its kind
ness, its calmness, and the wisdom of its in
nocence. 1 had many questions too, to ask
about the families I had known in my youth,
all of which were answered with pleasun
and a sort of pride l*y those who were de
lighted to hear that I had not forgotten the
humble friends, of other days ; and thus the
hours stoic away till it was midnight before
the son-in-law "showed me into my bed
chamber, a room as neatly furnished as if it
had been in the great city, and kept for the
accommodation of the few visitors that,
whether of kin, or strangers like myself,
came in the course of a year to tills secluded
dwelling.
May for some hours awake, reflecting, with
the purest delight, on the happiness, the
worth, and the piety, of the little family that
hv (liis time wore all lying around me in
sleep. No doubt, though! 1, they have their
frailties and aim their griefs, but that life is
enviable which contains, within itself, so ma
ny evenings like the one I have now witness
cu. So long ns there is a Bible in every cot
tage in Scotland, and the dust i not suffered
to lie upon it, the people will l.n good, and
wise, and happy. With thought* such as
these, I at last gently fell away into sleep.
I have heard of people who never were
conscious of having dreamed, lor myself I
never sleep but I dream, yet after all my
dreams, I have been able to discover few of
the causes by which they are produced or
modified.—This night, however, I had a
dream that rose out of the impressions which
that family worship hall left on my sleeping
mind. But 'though all these impressions
were calm, peaceful, and blessed, yet was
the dream itself w hich they occasioned dis
torted, hideous, and ghastlj’, ns if hell itself
were suddenly to glare out through a vision
of Heaven.
I fancied that I had lost my way on a wide
moor during a night of storms, and at last
came upon asolitaiy hut, into which I enter-
tile old patriarch, whom from boyhood I
Imd loved ami honored, stood before, me,
involved too in some dark and incomprehen
sible misery. " The earth is not wild,” quoth
thi} vision, “ now that we. know there is no
God.” “Our faith will yet return toms!”
“No! ni) young friend! the wind roars
loudly;and hark ! the flooded Clyde! That
is the swing of the woods! Ail not. their
voices terrible, now that there is no God?
But look, look at these withered hands! and
at these hoary hubs—they w ill fall down in
to the mould ; and what then are the ninety
years tlint 1 have walked over the earth : Ik
why should a shadow liave had such sweet
and awful thoughts, since there is no God !”
We seemed to stand together, 1 ar.d that
shadow,weeping and wailing atheists; ter
rified by the voice and the darkness of the
godless earth. lMy very soul dt d within
me, as 1 looked around on the dead ashes—
the miry floor—the ropy walls—the vileness,
tbe mouldiiiess, and the earthiiness—and-felt,
that I, w ith till iny unendurable agonies, was
only part of that loathsome existence with
whit'li I should be blended, and incorporated,
nid lost forevermore, soon as chance might
terminate the foolish mystery called life.—
“Would yon believe it, that my daughter,
once so good and beautiful, she who hears
the name of her who used to pray with me.
every night and every morning for forty
years, hates these withered bawls that laid
into, and lifted her from her cradle, af
ter lier mother w as taken away ? But what
lie meaning of the word father, now that
there is no God?” A woman seemed to be
before us, with a child, almost naked in her
arms. What is a mother; wliut is a daugh
ter, siiire there is no God? She held the
famished brat to lie; breast, rmhir in anger
tlmn in love, and poured fierce and wrathful
curses on her father’s head, for which the
grqve, she said, had so long been yawning
in vain. “1’ity your old fie her,” were tile
words lie constantly kept repeating—“ re
member the commandment of God which
sayeth, “ honor thy father mid thy mother
that thy days may be long on tbe earth
which the Lord thy God hath given thee.’ ”
There was something in the. woman’s face
that terrified me to look on—-a beauty that
reminded me of some one I had formerly
known—and her voice, too, even when pour
ing out those unnatural curses, seemed not
to he her own voice, but one that I hud lis-
tewed to, 1 knew not when or when;, with
pleasure and affection- “ Take the imp, St
mumble it into sleep,” cried sire- flir.ging her
hild info the old man’s arms, as if it had
been a piece of lumber, while he only raised
liis eyes slightly upwards, ; • d said, “ the
poor darling always loved its grandfather.”
What more tlian the mother who bore.it ?”
“ 1 w ish vour husband were come,” said the
wretched being, as the little baby was cry
ing on his knee. “ Call him your son—you
•Id dotard—for ho is no husband of mine.
1 suppose he is at the ale-house with his
dr ibs ; and may these arms lie withered, if
ver again in health or in sickness they lie
upon liis neck.” .lust as she finished this
sentence, a man came staggering into the
glimmering darkness, and then sat down in
ullen silence, with a countenance of drunk
en ferocity. All this while, .nobody hut the
old man spoke to me, or seemed to notice
ine ; and at last, when 1 w as observed by the
others, my appearance among them seemed
toexoite no surprise. The husband and wifi
continued to glare on each other with dyes
of fury and hatred ; and the. old man, spi ik
ing to me as if to a well known neighbor,
said, in a voice not meant to be heard by any
of his miserable children, “alas! alas! is this
the Cottar’s Saturday Night!” “ I have been
at the* kirk to-night with the committee of re
form,” cried the husband with an oath, “ and
a merry meeting we li u! of it.” The old man
mildly asked what hnd-hcen done.; and the
radian answered, “ we have levelled tiic old
crazy building with the ground—the pews,
and lofts, and rafters—the pulpit too, with
its sounding-board, where the old hypocrite
used to preach salvation to our souls—hy
the bones of Thomas Paine, they made a
glorious bonfire ! and turned all the. church
yard as bright as day—the manse itself look
ed red in the blaze. Had the ghosts leaped
from their graves, they might have fancied
it hell-fire.” Ami here, methoughf, the drun
ken atheist laughed convulsively, as if to sup
press the terror that liis impiety forced into
liis own coward heart. “ J .lines, said the old
man, you surely could not injure the minis
ter who baptized you.” “ No, no, burning
his kirk was enough for him—he stood by
all the while, and never uttered a word.—
We have saved him from henceforth the
trouble of preaching.
When at Inst, the great Mack Bible with
its clasps went bouncing into the flames, lie
thought it time to lie off, anu we gave three
cheers as he turned about at the gate !”—
“ James ! you liave scattered the stones of
the bouse of God, over the grave of your
mother. Where will you bury these bones
when your old father dies ?” holding up as
he spoke, liis withered bands clasped as it
tile little fearless infant had stolen up to its
unhappy father jhad swallowed lire last hand
ful of meal in the house, and yet look at
him, is he not as pule as a corpse! and a
corpse may lie coon be, for there is no hun
ger in the grave!” The father looked at him
with a face black with smotlu red rage, while
the old man sat still in his chair, with a fix-
d and rigid countenance. “What! have
you got that accursed hook of lies in your
old lean fingers again,” cried the savage,
tnrting up furiously, “the word of God call
you it !—uill it work miracles, and give ns
bread and with that lie tore it from the old
man’s breast and dashed it among the cold
nshesofthe (ire—“Lies—lies-—talk noltomc
f heaven—and as to hell—wliat need is
there for any other liell than this.” The
wife suffered the. Bible, to lie among the asii-
What a fearful being, thought I, is a
woman—and a wife—and a mother—who
can scoffat God, and her Saviour J Willi her
religion, she has lost also her very human
nature. Sim cares not for the baby that
helms suckled—for its father in whose bo
som she has lain—for her own father, '.xlm
would even when she was a child in her
cradle, have willingly died fur her sake !
The death rattle was in the old man’s throat.
We all stood silent. “ Lift up the Bible up
on iny knees,” were his last words—i;i-
daughter seemed lo do so in terror—one
moment—and it was then plain that lie was
dead. All this time tin* roar of wild winds
was in my dream, and I thought that ever
and anon thick blackness filled Ihe room
if it had been a grave; and then again n
ghastly light revealed the distorted counte
nances of wrath, guiit, and insanity. The
beings of my dream waxed yet more fierce
nd fiendish ; and tile cliild that was still
standing at its father’s knee, 1 thought was
changed into an imp, with a leering and un
arthly face, full of devilish malice and fe
rocity. Its father’s eyes fell upon it, du
ring one of those fitful (lashes ol light that
came glimmering over the darkness; and
half terrified, half enraged with (he liideous-
m ss of the changeling, he sprang tip, cry ing
“ What, thou accursed brat, art thou grin
ning in my face,'’ and grasped liis child’s
throat, as if to murder it: the. mother uttered
a horrid shriek, and I awoke with my heart
heating, and the cold sweat pouring down
my temples.
There is no happiness equal to that of
waking from a horrible dream, Jo a mo
ment 1 recollected that I was reposing in the
dwelling of peace, innocence and piety ; 1
arose, and going to the window, beheld the
first and tender light of morning gradually
unveiling the beautyof one of the most beau
tiful valleys of Scotland. A solitary redbreast
was sitting on the apex of the gable-end of
a barn, filled, no doubt, with the riches of
harvest, and the cheerful bird was singing'
to itself in the dawning sunshine. At no-
great distance, above a grove colored with all
the splendor of autumn, rose tip the spire of
that kirk, in which many years ago, I had
first joined in the simple services of our re
ligion. While I gazed with calm pleasure
over tlie woods, li hills, and fields, through
which my careless childhood had strayed, a
* p caine to my bed room door, and an in
fantine voice, followed by laughter from
more, than one happy urchin, indistinctly
summoned me to join the assembled group
in the little parlour below. There l found
tint happy old man, and his children’s
children. W T e all walked together lo the
kil l. ; and even if I had been a believer in
dreams, that, hideous one of the night must
have been deprived of all its fearftilncss by
the scene ( there beheld. All was still, so
lemn, and devout, in Ihe house of God, while
at the same time the congregation all wore a
placid air of cheerfulness mid contentment.
The minister was the same good old man,
whom 1 had been taught lo xenernte when a
boy ; the soered building, though ancient,
was yet unimpaired—and the trees that shel
tered it had stood for centuries in their
strength and beauty. I felt, as 1 looked a-
round me, a joyful conviction of the stability
of religion, breathed both from animate ami
Innniinate objects; arid all vague fears for
my country and its faith died away as soon
as 1 heard “ The voice of psalms, the simple
song of praise.” When the congregation
were dismissed with a Messing by the vene
rable pastor, I watched, with a cheerful spi
rit, the various domestic.parties as they re
turned homewards across the fields, and up
the hill-sides—and felt what a treasure of
supporting and elevating thoughts each heart
laid weekly up, within its secret self, against
tlie trials and troubles of life. I accompanied
my venerable friend, tho clergyman, to hir
manse ; and when, duringtlie course of the
evening, 1 ventured to toll him of my licit
night’s visions, the old man smiled, and said
that he hoped 1 had seen, even in his little
kirk, that day, jmoiigh to convince me that
it!!' RADICAL’S SATURDAY KIUIIT XVOIlId
never be in Scotland any thing more than—
a dream. EREMUS.
favor of Gerard Burch vs. said Price und Elisha
Watson—levied on by n constable and returned
to nit*.
Ml 1-4 acres of land, it being one half of lot
No. 272, in the second district of Wilkinson now
Laurens county, taken ns tlie property of Win.
M. Prim*, to satisfy two executions in favor of
Adam Hunter, for the use of Gerard Burch, n-
riiinst raid Price, Elislm Watson and Rodick
Watson—levied on-by a constable and returned
to me.
One lot of land, No. 110. in the 18th district
Wilkinson now Laurens county, taken n< tlie
property of Isaac Rayotl: also jot No. 102, nud
part of lot 10!>, in said district, ail token as the
properly of said Bayed, lo satisfy sundry execu
tions in favor of the administrators of George
Dykes—levied on hy a constable and returned
to me. Conditions cash.
CHARLES S. GUYTON, Sh IC.
May 18th, 1820.
Sheriff's Sales.
•\TSm.L he sold lit the court-house in Ihe town
Vt of Dublin, Lriirnns county, within the
usual hours of snle, on the first Tuesday in July
next, the following property, viz ;
One fraction of land on the "Oconee river,
containing eighty-five acres, more or less, ml
joining Tiiouins, and others ; also one fraction
of land containing ninety acres, more or le
on the Oconee river, and mljoiningtiie aforesaid
fraction ; und also one lot of laud containing
two hundred two and one half acres, more or
less, of land adjoining Dickson ii M’Cnll, and
Thomas ; and also one other fraction of land,
eontaining one hundred acres, more or less, ad
joining Dickson and M Cnll—levied on ns tin
propi i tv of Jonathan Sawyer, to satisfy uu exe
cution in favor of John Powell.
One negro man named Abel, a negro woman
named Sylvia,one bay horse, bridle and saddle,
or.e cow nml calf, one yearling, and one chest
carpenters tools—levied on as the property of
!,. B. Chi olui, to satisfy an execution in favor
of J. E. White IzCo. and others.
One lot of land on the Oconee river, adjoining
William Thomas and others, containing one
hundred acres, more or less, levied on as the
property of Elisha Watson, to satisfy un execu
tion in favor of J. 6i J. Guyton—properly point
ed out by plaintiff.
One lot of land No. 261, second district for
merly Wilkinson, now Lnurens count), lying
on the Oconee river, containing two hundred
two and one half acres, adjoining David Watson
and others, levied on as tin property of Henry
Britt, in favor of Abraham Fossel, mid others—
property pointed out hv defendant.
CHARLE3 3. GUYTON, Sh'iT.
April 2fi. 1820
IlanteY J uvu
Has just rkceivfd and Offers for
0 lilids. New-Orleans Sugar,
10 bills. Muscovado do.
10 do. Loaf do.
do, do. New-Orlcans Molasscy
C tierces prime Rice,
6 bids. Jamaica Kuni,
15 do. Rutenburg Gin,
2 pipes tio. do.
10 Mils. Current Wine,
10 do. White Grosviiio Winpi
lo do. Red do.
0 roils hide Rope.
5 kegs Snlt Petre,
10 Ini miles Wrapping F*pcr>
10 bugs Cofl'ee,
(i dozen Wire Sives,
8000 yds. Homespuns,
3000 wt. Swced Tire Iron,
50 pr. gentlemen’s fashionable Boot.*,
200 do. do. do. Shoes,
0 cases do. do. white bbl'k Hate,
A large and general assortment of ludieJ 1
BOOTS and SHOES.
M»y 20 Ifi—fit
Sheriff's Sale.
W ILL be sold to the highest bidder on the
first Tuesday ia July next, between the
usual hours of snle, at Tuttnuli court-house, the
following NEGROES,viz :—Jim und his wife
\ iolet, and Deliluli her cliild ; Diana S5 years'
old; May a boy 12 y-xars old ; Billy 10 years
old ; Tom 12 years old ; Charlotte 1) years old ;
Cyrus, child ; Grace fi years old ; Jordan 14
years old; Hercules, 11 years old; Ka-liel 10
years old ; Harriet, a Mulatto girl, JO years old.
Taken as the property of James A. Tippins, se
curity, to satisfy sundry executions in fivorof
the state against the tux collectors of Tattnall
county. also,
287 1-2 acres of land joining Daniel Brinsou,
on tlie Altnmahn, granted to William Divie.
345 acres of land, more or less, joiningJoshim
Dasher, and John Moldy, <>u the Altajnaha—
granted to Sami. McKullock.
800 acre* pine Iund, more or less, joining
Benjamin Stripling,granted to Jacob Vat's.—
Tlie above luuds all lying in the county of Tatt
nall, and tiikca as the property of i.odoivick
Lurd, to satisfy two executions in favor of Jo
shua Kemp and Reuben iS'aile, property point
ed out by Joshua Kemp.
Terms, cash.
J. B. STRIPLING, o. s.
May 16. 14
forTsale,
A LOT of LAND, No. IIP, lying in the first
district of Wilkinson county, containing
-52 1-2 acres, (drawn by Samuel 1, Catlett)
bounded N. E. by lot No. 126, N. tV by lot.
No. 170, S. \\ . by Lot No. 84, and S. .i'„ by lot
No. 118. Also, u valuable plantation .a Jones
county, containing :{U3 3-4 ucrus— 12 tr fifteen
likely Negroes may he had with the nnntntion.
ROBERT It. KIJJFIN.
Jones county, near Clinton, May 2-(. 16—3
STOP TilE JiUNAWAfT
Tiie Subscriber)".'!!! give
Ten Dollars to auj person
that " ill npprehmid L de
liver to him i:i Ea aiiton or
to Messrs. McLiors k Holt
in Augusta, a Negro Fel-
' low by the nemo of
HARTWELL,
formerly the property of Mr. JessElirnnsor.
Hartwcm., is a very’black fellow, nix ut 3ti or
35 years of age, about 5 feet P or It) inches high,
has a sear on his throat: he has an old pass
given him by Mr. Bledsoe while lie owned him,
that he passes with. The above reward will be
given, und all reasonable expenses paid.
wm. w'iLikins,
Agent of McL.xxvs a i Ioi.t.
Eatnntnn, May 13, 1820. II tf
STOP THE RUNAWAY!
T HE Subscriber will give Ten f)ullars re
ward to uny person that will apprehend it
deliver to him in Clinton, a Negro Woman hv
the name of HANNAH, supposed to be enticed
away hy her husband, who is hy the name of
Hartwell, the said fellow formerly belonged to
Jesse Bledsoe, of Eatonton, lint iiow McLuws
k Holt of Augusta. Hannah is about 5 feet 4
inches high, about 23 years of age. It is believ
ed that they will make towards the Floridas.-—
A description of llartwell can be seen t|. P
Recorder of the llitli inst.
xt no 7 ' KBA FL ETCHER.
May 23,1820. | -
EOBGIA, Baldwin counly.
VT Thomas Smith of captain M'Crary’s dis
trict, tolled before Amos Young, Esq. n Sorrel
Horse four feet ten inches high, supposed lo he
eleven years old, a large blaze In his face, the
right fore foot white, with a white streak up the
bock part of his leg, the left foot white, with a
sinnll white spot above his hum, some saddle
spots on liis hack—appraised to forty-live dol
lars, April 8th, 1820.
William Sentell of captain Stephens'district,*
tolled before Clinrles Smith, Esq. a bright Sorrel
Horse, with a bluzc in liis face, some saddle
spots, and marked with g.eer, switch tail, about
fourteen and a half hands high, seveu or eight.
y p “ r * oM—appraised to eighty dollars, 20th A-
Sarah Harris of captain Stephens' district*-
tolled before Clinrles Smitlt, Esq. a large Bnt/~
.Mnrr, very heavy with foal, oi l© hind foot white,
about fifteen hands high, nine ior(en years old—
appraised to one hundred and ten dollars, 28th
April, 1825.
Richard Terry of captain M'Crnry’s district*
tolled before Amos Young, Esq. a Sorrel Mare,
five years old, four feel high, arm' some saddle
cptd»—appraised lo thirty-five dollars, April 5th/
William M'Gehce of captain Dozier's district*
lolled before James 1*. Dozier, Esq', a Sorrel
Mure, about ten years old; a star in her forehead*
blaze face, both hind feel white, four feet high,
with a blemish in the right eye—apptuised to
fifty-five dollars.
George W. Owens of captain M'Crary's disf^
tolled before W illiam Griggs, Esq. a large ches-
imt Sorrel Horse, with a small star in his fore-
lienri. nnd a few white hairs about the root of
his tail, supposed to be fifteen years old, five
feet two inches high—appraised to sixty-five*
dollars. THO'S H. KENAN, Cl’k
May 27 lG—at
G eorgia, Madison county.
Tolled before Robert Groves, Esq. hy EliV*
znbe.tli Richards of captain Williford's district, it
Sorrel Horse, fourteen und a half hmids high,,
eighteen years old, no brands discovered, a
star in his forehead, nud a few white spots a-
8tli'm'° : * 1 j 0iiI< ' ci s — u l’pruiscd to twenty dollar^
WILLIS TOWNS, Clerk.
May 22 lo 3t *
V 'GOKGiA, Hull county.
VT Tolled before Alexander Crawford, Esq*,
of captain Sti nger s district, a Bright Hay Mure,-
seven years old, branded on the left shoulder
ami hip with a stirrup iron, and nliove her left
eye a scar, had on a small bell tied with a lea
ther string—valued to fifty-five dollars, Septem-*
ber 9th, 1819.
Also John Leahy of said county, tolled lie-*
fore John Barrett, Eso. a Bay Horse, about four-,
teen hands and a half high, elevei years old, a
star in liis forehead, both hind feet white, a
black spot on (he left thigh, blinded on the-
near shoulder thus 11—appraiseS at thirty dol
lars, 17th April, 3820.
STEPHEN REID, Cl’k r. e.
May 22 16 l*3t
515 Dollars \lu\N avdi^
Rahawas on the 18th
ult. from the subscriber*
living on tbe Wnterec ri
ver, a neifo man named
DAVY, nJout 25 or thirty
„ years of ,ige, 5 feet 10 or 11
inches high, well made, round face, with toll*-'
ruble large whiskers. Said n*gro took witli him
a portmanteau with a quantity of clothing that
cannot be described. lie will ill all probability
mnkc for Augusta, as lie was partly raised there..
It is likely h** will endeavor to pass for a free,
man, and art in tlie capacitytif a Barber, ns h»
is very handy with the rnzorand scissors. The*
above reward will be given if apprehended ami'
lodged in any jail in this state or Georgia.
WILLIAM A. BETTON.
May 22 15—3t
The Georgia editors are requested to give the*,
above three insertions in their respective pa
pers. and forward their accounts lo the editor of
the C'iiinilcn Gazette for payment.
Executor's Sale.
W I.L he sold, on the first Tuesday in July'
next, at Elberton, Elliert county,
views of \.vuul
in said county, on the waters of Ligbtwnnd
creek, adjoining lands of Jonathan Paiivc and co
ttiers, as the property of Richard Easts,r, dcc’d.
for the benefit of the heirs and creditors of said
deceased. JOHN C. EASIER, Ex'r.
April JO—f>
NOTICE.
A PPLICATIOJf will In- made to the ho
1\. noralilo (he. court of Ordinary for El
hurt county, at July term next, for leave t
sell three Negroes, belonging to the estate o
Richard Easter, laid of said county clceenrv-c
viz : one negro wcfian, Sally, anu her ejill
Ellick, also, one nfgro boy, Henry—for th
benefit of the heirs and creditors of said dt
ceased.
JOHN C. EASTER, Ex’or.
April 3 ,, lf
IVL'e month* niter (fate, application vvTFTT
-1” made to tho honorable the Inferior Com
Ot Jones cour.ty, vhen sitting for ordinary pm
puses, ior leave tf sell thereat estate of Tari
l.nv Ballard, deceased.
THOMAS BALLARD, ) n , .
THOMAS WHITE, \
May 9,1820— 3
ed for ihelter. With t,hat distressful feeling were in prayer or supplication, “A hole dug
Cast Steel Axes for Sale.
T HE subscriber Inis on hand a quantity of
CAST 8 I l.EL AXES, nnd will warrant
them, for which lie will take Lucas’s money.
L. Jt. LEWIS.
Milledgcville. May 2J 1 jii—m
( A EORG1A, Madison county.
Little B. Broach of captain Elierlmrt’s dis
trict, tolls before Francis P. Ehcrlinrl, Esq. a
Bloch More, about six years old, four fact eight
online inches high, with a white rim-round the
lelt hind foot, anil a few white hairs i„ her ,'(Wc
head, in tolerable good order, trots and racks—
*■"“ *" J «r «,«■.
xt- v oft TblWjA'S, Clerk.
T) lo v(
ll illiam II. Clatf)
TS. s IN EiiLITV.
James Crn/. J
I T appearing t»Ahe court that the defendant
in the iibovreuse is not to be found in ihe
county : Ou meflon, ordered, that the sRid l M ll
be served hy pidjishlng this rule in one of tin-
Guzettcs of this Circuit, once a month for six
months, »ud bjeerving a copy of tlie said I,ill
on the Attorne; for said Gay, in the eommoo.
law cam.
True opv fra in tlie Minutes.
JOHN N1SBET, Clerk.
February 11 ! 1820 iri6ni
Bahhciu Supvrif Court, ,1/iril ettlj'd Tend, iVvjT,
Present, the Iqp. CnnisTorincn B. Strong.
Sally |1owi.i„ )
vs, > Jihe! for Dhoroc.
William Hov®ti, S
FfAHE rilnr of tlie declaration, stating that
J. the defethmt in the above ease is not p, '
be found in t.isiiounty ; on motion of plaintiff'*
counsel, it la Bored, that service be perfected
hy publlshiM#* m,lict 0,,ce “ " ,ontl i until tin-
next term, ii4fO' f! tiie gazelles of this state.
A true c.opAaken from the minutes, this nih
M«), 1820, j^ 10 , ug .j VES \y, Clerk
fifty H, IS*
kmc: J