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be dashed to the ground, While the horse continued at the top of his speed. • Whoop-e-e!’ shouted the clown, *if Joe aint on his feet!’ * Good gracious !’ exclaimed the ladies. The doctor started, but said nothing. Joe now dropped the bridle, and said he felt warm. ‘Take off your coat to it, Mr. Peters,’ replied the clown; you’ve got plenty of friends here.’ Off came Joe’s frock-coat and his bcll crowned hat, and the opinion very general ly obtained that he looked much improved in his appearance. The clown had donned the coat and hat, and now cut a more ludi crous figure than ever, as he followed round the ring, picking up the coats and vests which Joe threw off one after the other, to the number of twenty, or more. At length Joe bad come to the last vest, and was un buttoning bis suspenders, when the clown called out— ‘Stop, Joo ! stop ! there's ladies here !’ But off went the pants, while the clown, with iiis hands over his face, continued — ‘ Stop ! stop ! Ob, Joe, aint you ashamed of yourself 1 oh, for shame !’ Then uncovering his face, he beheld his man Joe transformed into a woman, trigged out in a flounced muslin, and a fashionable opera hat. This sudden metamorphose was hailed with one universal squall from the audience, while the clown shrunk aghast from the apparition of the wife from whom he had absconded. But on went the horse amid the deafening shout—when suddenly j the female dress dropped from the rider, ! and there stood Mr. Harrington revealed, in all his gilt and spangles, who, after a few extra feats, just to show them what Joe Pe ters, from Craker’s Neck, could do, threw a backward somerset from liis liorse and retired, amidst the reiteratedj acclamations of the audience. The clown, who now presented the ap tcarance of a wonderfully corpulent man, aving stuffed Joe’s coats, jackets, gown, &c., into the waist of his coat, approached his master with a chop-fallen air, and in quired— -1 Master, can you tell me why I am very much like our friend, the doctor ?’ * No, why are you J’ ‘ ’Cause,’ said he, unbuttoning the coat and letting the garments fall at his feet— ‘ ’cause” I feel a great deal smaller than I did a while ago.’ . Such another shout as followed, never before re-echoed through the quiet streets and lanes of Pineville. The doctor was in every mouth : ‘ Hurra for the doctor !’ ‘ How do you feel mow, doctor V ‘ls that the way they does in Augusta ?’ * When you gwine to show agin, doctor ? I’s sure to come !’ and a hundred other such jeers were aimed at the unfortunate doctor; who, mortified to such a degree that he knew not what to do with himself, rose in his seat and addressed the almost frantic multitude— ‘lt’3 a fact, ladiesjand gentle>e/ —l was most oudaciously tuck in, that^time —that’s a fact.’ Fortunately, it was the last act of the performances, for such*was the ungoverna ble humor of the crowd, after what liad happened, that no more order could be es tablished that night. How matters were conducted on the fol lowing night—positively the last of the ! ‘ great attraction’ in Pineville —we have not learned ; we have heard it hinted, howev er, that doctor Peter Jones did not attend, though he was loudly called for by the au dience. W. T. T. BEAUTY. The following contains a beautiful idea, on a beautiful subject, beautifully expressed: “ Most heartily do I agree with the sage who said, with a sigh— ‘ Well, philosophers may argue and plain men may fret, hut beauty will find its way to the human heart.’ And it should be so, for so hath the Creator wisely and kindly ordained it. Hehath vouch safed to man the faculty of perceiving beauty. He hath made the perception of beauty a source of delight to him, and he hath filled the earth, the sea, and the skies, with bright and beautiful objects, which he may con template and admire. - Else, why is the earth, and every thing upon it, so varied of form, so full of beauty of outline 1 Why are not the hills, the rocks, the trees all square? Why runneth not the river canal like to the oceon ? Why is not the grass black ? Why cometh the green hud, the white blossom, the golden fruit and the yel low leaves ? Why is not the firmament of a leaden changeless hue ? Aby hang not the clouds like sponges in the sky ! Wby the bl ight tints of morning, the splendor of the noon, the gorgeous hues of sunset ? \\ by, in a word, docs the great firmament, like an ever-turning kaleidescope, at every revolv ing hour present to man anew and beauti ful picture of the skies ? I care not that 1 shall he answered that these and all other beauties, whether of sight or sound, are the results of arrangements for other ends. I care not, for it is enough for me that a bene volent God hath so constituted us, as to en able us to derive pleasure and benefit from them ; and, by so doing, he hath made it in cumbent upon us to draw from so abundant a source.” ————— The Temptation and Avowal.—*” I have played,” said Maltravers, “ and 1 know the temptation. I dare not play now. I love the excitement, but 1 have been humbled at the debasement; it is a moral drunkenness that is worse than the physical.” “\ ou speak warmly.” “ Because I feel keenly. I once won of a man I respected, who was poor. His agony was a dreadful lesson to me. I went home, and was terrified to think I had felt so much pleasure in the pain of another. I have never played since that n\"\it.”—Bidwer. The Standard. —Judge a man by his ac tions ; a poet by his eye ; an idler by his fingers ; a lawyer by his leer ; u player by his strut ; a boxer by his sinews ; an Irish man by his rotundity ; a Scotchman by his shrug; a Justice by his frown ; u great man by liis modesty ; an editor by his old coat ; a tailor by liis agility ; a fuller by liis elbow; a newly-marrie 1 couple by their smiling faces ; and a woman by her neat * ness. Desire of Ex elling and Desire oj Excel lence.—The desire of excelling is not the same with the desire of excellence : the dis tinction between them is pretty nice, and commonly overlooked, but there is a just and real one. Men arc forward enough to aspire in great things, hut then it is only to give them a pre-eminence and superiority over others ; and they have so little fond ness for the height, they aspire to, that they j would be very well contented to stand where ! they are, provided they could he sure that nobody else could come up to them. But ; he that desires excellence can take nothing | else in compensation for it: to see others without it affords him no gratification, nor is his joy in the attainment abated by the suc cess of others, for he regards only the in trinsic value of the possession, without en vying or despising the acquisition of his neighbors. When once lie begins to say within himself, Nobody is so vigilant in his conduct as I am, and to make an amusement of pitying the thoughtless multitude around him, he is drawing within the magical circle of vanity : for real pity always carries a de gree of uneasiness with it; and whenever we feel a pleasure in the exercise of it, we may be sure it is spurious and hypocritical. If we could thus bring our desires to fix upon the attainment of real excellence, with out regard to what is done by others, we should lose nothing by it, even in respect to that superiority the world is so fond of, for whatever distinction is within’ our power, we shall attain by constantly doing our best. I would have a man endeavor to shine in conversation ; hut why need he strive to outshine-? Let him shine as much as he can, and if outshining he in liis power, it will fol low of course ; if uot, he will hut fret and vex himself by aiming at it. Not that 1 would wish to recommend a blindness to the acquisitions or defects of others, b it then they ought to operate as examples, rather than as motives, becaus'e the same things would he desirable, or the contrary, wheth er they belonged to any one else or not. Intemperance is to be pitied and adhored for its own sake much more than for its out ward consequences. These consequences owe their chief bitterness to their criminal source. Wc speak of the miseries which the drunkard carries into liis family. But take away his own brutality, and how light ened would be these miseries. We talk of liis wife and children in rags. Let the rags continue ; but suppose them to he the ef fects of an innocent cause. Suppose the drunkard to have been a virtuous husband, and an affectionate father, that sickness, not vice, has brought his family thus low : sup pose his wife and children hound to him by a strong love which a life of labor for llieii support and of unwearied kindness has awaked ; suppose them to know that liis toils for their welfare had broken down liis frame, suppose him able to say, ‘we are poor in this World’s good, but rich in affection and religious trust. lam going from you, but I leave you to the father of the father less and to the widow’s God.’ Suppose this and how changed these rags ! lmw changed the cold naked room. The heart's warmth can do much to withstand the winter’s cold; and there is hope and there is h >nor in this virtuous indigence. Zeal. —The river that runs slow and creeps by the hanks, and begs leave of every turf to let it pass, is drawn into little hol lowness, and spreads itself in sni tiler por tions, and dies with diversion; hut when it runs with vigorousness, and a full stream, and breaks down every obstacle, making it even as its own brow, it stays not to be tempted with little avocations, and to creep into holes, hut runs into the sea through ful and useful channels: so is a man’s prayer; if it moves upon the feet of abated appetite it wanders into the society of every trifling accident, and stays at the corners of tin fancy, and talks with every object it meets and cannot arrive at heaven; hut when it i carried upon the wings of passion and strong desires, a swift motion and a hungry appetite, it passes on through all the inter media! regions of clouds, and stays not til! it dwells at the foot of the throne, where mercy sits, and thence sends holy showers of refreshments. — Jeremy Taylor. First use of Gun-Powder in Mining. —Ti is a curious fact, that although gun-powder became generally known in Europe about the year 1320, yet that its explosive power should not have been used in mining till upwards of a century afterwards. The first instance that is recorded of the use of gun powder in mining, is by the Spaniards under Gonsalves de Cordova, who, in 149 G, be sieged the French in the castle del Oco, at the entrance of the bay of Naples, which stood on a rock surrounded, by the sea, ex cept a narrow isthmus, across which a deep ditch had been cut in the solid rock. A Spanish Captain named Pedro de Navarra, took advantage of the cover afforded fui sloops by an unflanked jutty of part of the rock, to drive a gallery sufficiently forward to reach under the castle, where a large charge of powder was lodged, which lie fired by a match prepared so as to hum till he got to a sufficient distance for his own security. The rock opened with a terrible explosion, and hurled its fragments, together with the walls and a great number of its defenders, into the sea, in columns of flame and smoke; the Spanish and Neapolitan sloops that were in readiness landed their best troops, and immediately overpowered the few surviv ing French. Lords and Painters. —Henry VIII could say a good thing, and even a just one, when he was in the humor for it. Holbein having kicked a lord who insulted him, and the apology ordered by the King not having been deemed sufficient by the noble person, Henry told him he must be content, and gave him to understand that ho over-rated himself, and undervalued his enemy: “ I can make,” said lie, “seven lords of seven ploughmen; hut it is beyond my power to make a single Holbein.” Sentiment. —There is sentiment in all women, and sentiment gives delicacy to thought and tact to manner. But sentiment with men is generally acquired, an offspring of the intellectual quality, not as with the i other sex, of the moral. Sir William Jones, speaking of the l>i ble says : “ 1 have carefully aiid regularly perused the Holy Scriptures, and am of opinion that the volume contains more sub limity, purer morality, more important his tory, and finer strains of eloquence than can be collected from all other books, in what ever language they may have been written. . IWIIB'IIBUUWH ©esoqonail. Written for the “Southern Miscellany.’’ AN ADVENTURE. It was a bright day in the latter part of October, in the year 183—, that I set out in company with two other persons from the Hotel where we liad tarried the night before. We breakfasted before leaving —and as wc were prosecuting a journey through a thin ly settled country where “accommodations for man and beast” was not to he found just when you would like it—our commis sary for tlu: day had provided our lunch, which ho had carefully deposited in the outer fold of his saddlebags—(a depot, hy the way, which liad been expressly set apart for this very purpose.) Our way, for the most part, led us through a hilly, barren country —occasionally relieved, however,by a delightful valley of fertile land—where the squatter had already found a resting place and a home. About noon, we alight ed from our horses, in one of those valleys be.-idea small clear stream, whose margin furnished delightful grazing for our jaded horses. The eldest of my companions, who was the commissary for the day, re questing us to he seated, and drawing forth a bundle from liis saddlebags of very small dimension, very gravely remarked—“ Well, well, judging from the size and weight of this parcel, I should say our snack would he none of the heartiest. Now, to my mind, there is nothing more provoking thantoliave one’s appetite whetted up to the keenest degree, and yet he without the means of gratifying it. Now this (unrolling the bun dle) is scarcely a priming—for one man with an appetite—and here are three of us, judg ing from myself, who are capable of mighty deeds as trencher-men. Bless my soul, just look at this” (said he, ns lie finished the job of unrolling the bundle) “here is a nicer morsel truly —two hunks of dry beef, a piece of corn bread, and a couple of pota toes. Well, hoys, here it is—you must do the best you can with it.” V.\dl, friend Dean, said I, you will certainly lose your character for once. All the while during our journey I have observed, a great pro pensity in you, to take care of number one, especially in all matters appertaining to eat ing and sleeping. How happened it, then, that to-day, you have so unfaithfully dis charged your duty to yourself and to us, in your capacity as commissary ? Why is it —though the creature comforts aie no little, there are not more of them ? “ The truth is,” added our other companion, whose name was Pritchett, “the old gentleman has ut terly failed in the discharge of liis duty to day, and 1 shall move that, as a punishment for the offence, he be allowed to feed upon liis negligence until supper—and in the meantime, Parks and myself will just stay our appetites until night with the sample of a lunch which you have so bountifully pro vided.” “I second that motion,” I quickly said, at the same time helping myself to one half of the lunch, Pritchett taking the other. “ Well, I declare that is not fair—to try a man, find him guilty, and execute him, with out giving him a chance to answer to the charge. That’s what I call lynching a fellow with a vengeance. But, see here, you arc not certainly going to eat all that beef and potatoes, and not give me any. I shall not be able to stand it till night—never. I am •xceedinglv sensitive upon the subject of eating—now, if we had been provided with nothing I could have done very well, but mving the thing before qav eyes, and under my nose, and almost in my grasp, and to see you both munching away at it —1 tell you, ‘tis more tliau I can stand—l shall be think ing about it the next 15 miles—and every time 1 think of it.it will he with a sense of emptiness and hunger really distressing. Come, hoys, divide—l am punished enough already—l plead guilty to the neglect—and for the future, will make ample provision for our roadside dinner.” We laughed at his comic air—divided the spoil—rested an hour, and set out about 2 in the evening on our journey. About four o’clock, we were overtaken hy a countryman, of whom we enquired the distance to the house for which we had set out in the morning, where we expected to stay during the night, and to our astonish ment, learned that it was 15 miles further on, and a most miserable road. To get there that night was wholly impracticable. What was to be done, what could we do? The countryman informed us that hy going four miles further, on the road we were then travelling, and taking an Indian trail that led oft’ to the left, and pursuing that two miles, we should be able to reach a house of en tertainment. “ What sort of a house is it,” asked Dean, “and what kind of entertain ment shall we find?” “All very good for the country, I guess,” said our traveller, as he spurred on his horse, and left us to pursue our way at our own pace. The sun was resting just above the hill tops, as we came to the Indian trail, which we had been directed to take. We found the distance at least (> miles instead of 4 and now, fearing the balance of the way liad been measured with the same sort of judg ment —as that over which we had travelled, we began to apprehend our true situation. And as the idea of a lodging in the woods, without food, or fire, or shelter, begun to present itself to our minds, we quickened our movements, and hurried on, as rapidly as the unevenness of the way would per mit. Pritchett, who had been loading the way, (th trail was so narrow but one could follow it at a time) now halted, and called us up to consult. Our road forked, and we knew not which to take; here was a dilem ma for which we were not prepared. Dean’s face had grown sensibly longer, ever since we had left the main road; and it now wore a most lugubrious aspect. After a short parley, we decided on taking the right hand trail, which in the end proved the right one, for after pursuing it for a couple of miles, over the toughest kind of a country, con stantly intersected with smell streams, with worn and deep channels, we at length halted in front of an inclosure surrounding a dou ble log-cabin, the proprietor was already in the yard dealing out his hospitality, to a gentleman, who had arrived a few minutes before us. To our enquiry—“Can we stay with you all night,” we received the friend ly answer, that we could, which to travellers weary and worn as we were, was truly a cheering welcome. Having alighted, and turned our horses over to the care ot Pritchett, whose turn it now was to act as ostler for the night, Dean and myself walk ed into the house to reconnoitre. One thing struck me plainly at the first glance, namely, there was a great olenty of children, and a great scarcity of every thing else. The house, it is true, had two rooms and a pas sage between, but one only was finished, the one occupied by the family; the otln r had only half a floor, and not a crack chink ed in the sides, and no shutter to the door, and for the life of me, I could not well see, how wo should he able to make out for the night. But I will not anticipate. Dean being the eldest, and spokesman in general, enquired of the lady it‘ we could have sup per, and by way of hinting at our probable capacity of appetite, told her that we had eat scarcely any thing since breakfast, and hardly any thing then. She satisfied him on that score—telling us, we should have sup per shortly—and offered us scats. We drew a chair apiece to the fire, for it was very cold, and patiently waited the prepar ation for supper. Soon a bouncing girl of about 16 came in—and began to make a rigorous onset upon the cooking utensils; first, she gathered an oven, and after giving it a cold water rinsing, put it on the fire, poured into it some water, and into that some coflee, and set the whole to boiling. Next, she stirred up an old hoe from the ashes, swept it clean with a broom, and on that patted out a cake of corn dough, and put the whole on the fire. Next, she gath ered up a frying pan, placed it on the fire— and reaching down from a crack in the house a hunk of beef, cut it up into squares and triangles, and pieces that were neither squares nor triangles, put all into the frying pan, into which she placed about half a pound of tallow, to grease it with, and-set the matter cooking most beautifully. It would have been a treat to any man to have sat as I did, and watch the workings of Dean’s mind, by the play of the facial muscles; he was a great eater, and having been put upon short allowance for the last 21 hours, lie had fondly hoped, this night, to end his troubles, by relieving his appetite, and during the evening we reached the house, had given audible expression to his delightful anticipations. During the whole process of getting rea dy to begin, lie had watched the girl’s every motion; and as one article after the other, was worked off, you might see the impres sion upon his face. The oven of coffee, certainly added an inch or more to its length, hut it regained its former proportions, when the hoe cake was fixed, (he was very fond of a cake cooked on a hoe.) But when the beef and tallow made their appearance, he caved—his face hung—he brought a deep sigh, and turning impatiently round in Lis chair said, Parks, let’s go and see the horses. When we reached the yard, he turned with a most melancholy expression of counten ance and said to me, “Well, I have lived upwards of 40 years in this world, and never yet have 1 seen just such a prepara tion as that making in there, to feed white folks on. I would not live in any such a country. It’s nothing but beef for break fast, and beef for dinner, and beef for sup per, and beef to snack on. I have eaten so much of it since I commenced this trip, that I declare, I feel like I could bellow equal to a praiiie bull.” “Oh keep your temper, Dean,” said I, “ we might do a great deal worse than that. It is much better than lodging in the woods, with nothing to eat. Besides, that is cer tainly a fine looking girl, and you must ad mit that she has the nack of cooking. Did you observe the large quantity of lard with which she greased our beef?” Lard? ’Tvvas tallow as lam a living man, and I would as soon eat a candle, or a rawhide.” Pritchett coming up just then, was made acquainted with our bill of fare, for supper, and we again went into the house. The young lady was dishing up the beef when we walked in—and setting it upon a table, without a cloth—and the bread having been broken, and placed beside it, we were invited to take seats at the table. I sat opposite Dean. The coffee was serv ed up in cups by dipping them in the oven —and as there was neither sugar nor cream, we were under the necessity of taking it in its unvarnished state. I could eat nothing myself, save the bread. But I was utterly astonished to see the voracity with which Dean dispatched his meal. The coffee was drank with a relish —the bread disappeared from his plate as if by magic, and the beef—aye, the beef— about which he had growled so much, and fried in tallow too, added largely to the amount of deposites, which he was making in the Bank of the Interior. I never saw a man go it with such a coming appetite, be fore nor since—and if lie should see this true history of that night’s adventure, I am sure he will give me credit as a faithful chronicler of the event. But the supper was ended, and our pipes were smoked, and Dean became very sleepy. Ho had been looking round, and found out, that there was only a single bed in one corner of the unfinished room, and rightly judging that we should have to sleep in that room, he wisely determined to be the first to choose; so, he became suddenly very sleepy. The landlord told him he would sleep in the other room. So getting a torch of pine (candles there were none) he shewed him the way to the bed. An hour after, Pritchett and myself wish ing to retire, we were shewn into the same room. The night, as I have before remark ed, was very cold. The apartment in which we were to sleep had only a part of a floor, no crack stopped, and no shutter to the door. When we entered the door, Dean, who was abed, rose up, protesting against sleeping in that bed—“ Boys,” said he, and his teeth chattered as bespoke, “do lot me sleep with you on the floor.” I thought I should have died with laughing. There he wu<3, his face longer than ever—his little grey eyes giving out an expression of great dissatisfaction, liis head tied up in a yellow handkerchief, and to crown the whole, a long grey overcoat had been put on in the place of nightgown, after his other garments had been laid aside. There also, was the landlord in the door, a huge pine torch in his hand, locking as if he did not know whether lie should laugh or be angry. — There also spread out on the floor, was the bed on which Pritchett and myself were to lie— a child’s bed at that about 3by 5 feet— and covered only by a check spread. “No,” said Pritchett, in answer to Dean’s request to sleep with us, “you have made your own selection, and you must stand it if you freeze. You shall not enjoy any of the comforts of this bed.” “ Well, hut land lord,” said he, “wont you let us sleep in the other room by the fire —go ask your wife— tell her we are civil people, and if I stay in here I shall certainly freeze.” The negotia tion was entered into and concluded, and we were permitted to lie by the fire. I took up one bed under my arm, and having made it down before the fire, with my coat, and the aid of an old pair of trowsers, the land lord kindly lent me for the purpose, I was enabled to make a pretty good pillow for my head, and laying down, 1 drew my cloak .over me, and went to sleep. I awoke about 3 o’clock in the morning, and found half a dozen cats snugly snoozing on my legs, and a little negro, the only one the landlord had, close by rny side. Not liking my companions, as bed-fellows, I got up— dressed myself-—struck a light, and survey ed the scene around me. The room was about 14 by 16. On each side of the door was a bed—in one of which was the man and his wife and youngest child—in the other was two grown daughters, and two younger ones—in front of the fire, was my two companions, and the stranger, who ar rived before us —the little negro, already mentioned—two boys — mV six companions, the cats —a large and small dog. Thus making up the aggregate amount of lodgers to he 14 men, women, and children, besides 8 cats and dogs—all within the space of 14 by 16 feet square. Day dawned at length. One after the other of the-sleepers arose around me, until the whole were in motion. A breakfast, the exact counterpart of the supper of the night before, was served up to us—Dean alone doing it ample justice—we paid our hills, saddled our horses, hid our host fare well, and sloped—and I have not been there since. SAM PARKS. SOUTHERN MISCELLANY. MADISON, GEO f tTueSiiuij, (2, ‘(§-42. CC/ 5 ’ Our town subscribers will, after this week, be furnished with their papers by a Carrier.. Those who do not receive this day’s paper will confer a favor by sending to our office for them. 05 s * In answer to several inquiries we state, that the “ Bantling,” although pub lished at our office, is a separate and distinct issue, having no connection whatever with this paper. TO THE PUBLIC. To-day we issue the second number of the “Miscellany;” and with it we tender our thanks to those friends who have mani fested an interest in our behalf by giving their names as subscribers, and inducing others to “do likewise.” We are directly dependent upon the public. Many of out friends have feared that the publication of a neutral and miscellaneous paper would re sult in a failure; and although many more were of a different opinion, we have suffer ed many an hour of painful solicitude in view of our undertaking. But after due advisement and deliberation our resolution was taken, and our “little all” embarked in the “Miscellany.” Feeling ourself thus dependent, and encountering these doubts and difficulties, the kindness shown by some of our friends since the issue of our first number lias been like “cool waters to a thirsty soul.” It has encouiaged us to be lieve that our confidence in the taste and spirit of our community has not been mis placed, and although the encouragement is small, compared with what will he necessary to render our paper such a repository of lit erature and intelligence as at no distant day we intend it shall he, we view it as an earn est of “ good things in store.” We are, it is true, personally and more particularly in terested in the success of our experiment; but the people of our town and county, and our neighbors of adjoining counties, will derive advantages which will amply reward them for any exertions they may make in our cause. We expect soon to obtain the services of an editor, whose abilities will give additional interest to our columns, and we have talent enough in our county to give us no indifferent standing abroad, provided we could elicit it in the form of communica tions. We intend in our selections, to fur uish our readers with all the important in telligence as it arrives, and which our facili ties enable us to obtain at a vety early period: and such articles upon the arts, agriculture, science, trade, morality, and other subjects of practical importance to society, as will present a great amount of valuable information in an attractive and interesting form. Our extremely low price places it in the power of every one who has soul enough to feel an interest in the affairs of the busy world, to put his name upon out subscription list. We have said the public were to be benefited by our enterprize, as well as ourselves; —let such a paper as we promise you ours will be (and we hope you will take us at our word) go into every family, and let the head of the family read it and hand it to his children and encourage them to do the same, an amount of informa tion would be obtained, a desire for mutual improvement would he awakened, and a change wrought in the intellectual and moral character of the community which no money can value. We may be called enthusiastic in the view we take of our enterprize, but let any sensible man reflect upon the matter, and if he does not agree with us we will acknowledge our error. Should it be urged against us that there is too little desire for mental culture—too little taste for literature among the people to sustain our publication: we reply, nr do not believe, it. “Love of money” is the master passion of a majority, but many of even these have liberality and public spirit enough left to give the pittance necessary • fora literary newspaper. And there is a “remnant” who have not bowed the knee to “Mammon” who will cordially second our efforts. To those who say that northern publications can he afforded so much cheap er and better, that it is useless to attempt competition; we reply—the north is fur in advance of us in literature, science, and art, and will increase the distance at which we follow, until we do something for ourselves. We have no desire to see an invidious spirit between the north and south—nor are we so sectional in our feelings or chimerical in our opinions as to expect the establishment of a literature peculiarly and distinctively southern. We admire the north for her cultivated mind, and social refinement. We honor her for her labors in the cause of lit erature. But we wish the south to hear a part in these labors—to aid in her own intel lectual elevation—to awaken her energies —rouse her self-respect, and bring out the resources of her genius. Are we never to have among ourselves the means of mental and moral improvement? Is our dependence upon our sister States never to cease? Is it right? Is it excusable? Is it consistent with that high-toned honor of which we justly boast? The inferiority of our periodical literature, should bring its friends to its support, and not he adduced as an objection. If we de spise the “day of small tilings,” no great object can ever he attained. A proper use of the means which we possess will ac complish all we desire. Our instrumentali ty in this work of literary reform will be comparatively humble, but we feel a consci entious devotion to our cause, and shall abide by our determination and leave the conse quences to the people. We hope those whose sympathies are with us, and who are capable of wielding the quill, will aid us with tlieir contributions to our columns. A communication on any subject which is not sectarian in religion, or of a party character in politics, or of an immoral tendency in its spirit, will he cheer fully accepted. Our intelligent Planters are invited to communicate with the public on the subject ot Agriculture. The great importance of this subject to every department of society, will render any opiniot s or improvements derived from experience eminently useful. We know of individuals engaged in this occupation in our immediate community, who, by the use of their pens, might be of essential advantage to their fellow-citizens. We shall be pardoned for alluding particu larly to a fellow-citizen, whose estimable character and sound practical sense lias long been highest valued by those who have known him best; whose good taste is shown by the elegant mansion in the suburbs of our town, and the result of whose experi ence in this important art, in the form of essays, or in the communication of facts or new discoveries, would be gladly welcomed by the public. AN APOLOGY. Wc are averse to apologies of every kind; but, notwithstanding, we feel called upon to riake one for the mournful aspect of our first md present numbers. The rule necessary fir our paper was ordered from Charleston sufficiently early for our first issue, and it was not until our paper was entirely set up that we received a. letter informing us that none were to he had in that city. We have since sent our order to New York, and con fidently rely on receiving them, together with our Vignette, &c., in time for our fourth or fifth number: until then we shall he under the necessity of begging the indul gence of oursubscribers. Our present column rules are wooden —something, perhaps, en tirely new in the annals of newspaper print ing. (t/* Our town has been unusually lively the past few days. The races over the Madison Course commence to-day, and we are informed that “luts of fun ” may be expected by those who visit the track. The number of strangers in town is already very great. “THE ORION.” Wo lwvc received the first number — volume I—of this beautiful work, from the hands of its Editor, Mr. William Richards, of Penfield, and shall speak of its merits in a future number. It is embellished with a view of Tallulah Falls,