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THE INDIAN PLEDGE.
On the door-steps of a cottage in the land
of “steady habits,” some ninety or nn hun
dred years since, might, on a soft evening in
June, have been seen a sturdy young far
mer, preparing his scythes for • the coming
hay-making season. So intent was he upon
his work, that he heeded not the approach
of a tall Indian, accoutred for a hunting ex
pedition, until, “ Will you give an unfortu
nate hunter some supper and lodging for the
night?” in a tone of supplication, caught his
ear.
The farmer raised his eyes from Lis work,
and darting fury from beneath a pair of
shaggy eyebrows, he exclaimed, “Heathen,
Indian dog, begone ! you shall have nothing
here.”
“But I am very hungry,” said the Indian;
“give otdy a crust of bread and a bone, to
strengthen me on my journey.”
*’ Get you gone, you heathen dog!” said
the farmer; “ I have nothing for you.”
“ Give me but a cup of cold water,” said
the Indian, “ for I am very faint.”
This appeal was not more successful than
the others. Reiterated abuse, and to be
told to drink when he came to a river, was
all he could obtain from one who bore the
name of Christian ! But the supplicating
appeal fell not unheeded on the car of one
of finer mould and more sensibility. The
farmer’s youthful btide heard the whole, as
die sat hushing her infant to rest; and from
the open casement she watched the poor
Indian, until she saw his dusky form sink,
appaiently exhausted, on the ground, at no
great distance from her dwelling. Ascer
taining that her husband was too busied
with his work to notice her, she was soon
at the Indian’s side, with a pitcher of milk,
and a napkin filled with bread and cheese.
“ Will my red brother slake his thirst with
some milk ?” said this angel of mercy; and
as he essayed to comply with her invitation,
she untied tho napkin, and hade him cat
and be refreshed.
“ Cantontowwit protect the white dove
from the pounces of the eagle,” said the In
dian ; “for her sake the unfledged young
shall be safe in their nest, and her red broth
er will not seek to be revenged.”
He then drew a bunch of feathers from
his bosom, and plucking one of the longest,
Save it to her, and said, “ When the white
ove’s mate flies over the Indians’ hunting
grounds, bid him wear this on his head.”
* * * *
The summer had passed away. Harvest
time had come and gone, and preparations
had been made for a hunting excursion by
the neighbors. Our young farmer was to
be one of tlie party ; but on the eye of their
departure he had strange misgivings relative
to his safety. Nodoubt his imagination was
haunted by the form of the Indian, whom,
iu the proceeding summer, lie had treated
SO harshly.
The morning that witnessed the departure
of the hunters, was one of surpassing beauty.
Not a cloud was to be seen, save one that
gathered on the brow of Iclrabod, (our young
farmer,) as he attempted to tear a feather
from his hunting-cap, which was sewed fast
to it. His wife arrested his hand, while she
whispered in his ear, and a slight quiver
agitated his lips as he said, “ Well, Mary,
if you think this feather will protect me from
the arrows of the red-skins, I’ll e’en let it re
main.” Ichabod donned his cap, shouldered
his rifle, and tho hunters were soon on their
way in quest of game.
The day wore away a3 was usual with
people on a like excursion; and at night
fall they took shelter in the den of a bear,
whose flesh served for supper, and whose
skin spread on bruin’s bed of leaves, pillow
ed their heads through a long November
night.
with the first dawn of morning, the hun
ters left their rude shelter and resumed their
chase. Ichabod, by some mishap, soon sep
arated from his companions, and in try ing to
join them, got bewildered. He wandered
all day in the forest, and just as the sun was
receding from sight, and he was about sink
ing down in despair, heespied an Indian hut.
With mingled emotions of hope and fear,
he bent his steps towards it; and meeting
an Indian at the door, her.skedhim to direct
him to tho nearest white settlement.
“If tho weary hunter will rest till morn
ing, the eagle will show him the way to the
nest of his white dove,” said the Indian, as
he took Ichabod by the hand and led him
within his but. The Indian gave him a sup
per of parched com and venison, and spread
the skins of animals which he had taken in
hunting, for his bed.
The light had hardly begun to streak the
east, when the Indian awoke Ichabod, and
after a slight repast, the twain started for
the settlement of the whites. Late in the
afternoon, as they emerged from a thick
wood, Ichabod with joy espied fata nome.—
A heartfelt ejaculation had scarco escaped
his lips, when the Indian stepped before him,
and turning around, stared him full in the
face, and inquired if lie had any recollection
of a previous acquaintance with his red
brother. Upon being answered in the nega
tive, the Indian said, “ Five moons ago when
1 was faint and weary, you called me an In
dian dog, and drove me from your door. I
Sht now be revenged; but Cantantowwit
i me tell you to go home; and hereafter,
when you see a red man iu need of kindness,
do to him as you have been done by. Fare
well.”
The Indian having said this, turned upon
his heel, and was soon out of sight. Ichal>od
was abashed. Ho went home purified in
heart, having learned a lesson of Chi istiauity
from an untutored savage.
Unhappy Coincidences. —lt is remarkable
that all the English monarchs who have
wedded French processes have met an un
timely end. Edward the 11., who married
Rubella of France, was murdered in the
most cruel manner by Gourmay and Mon
travers, at Berkeley Castle; Richard the
XL, married also a princess named Isabella,
was killed by Sir Piers Exton, and accom
plices, at Pomfret Castle, or as thought by
Hume starved to death there. Henry the
VI., who married Margaret of Anjou, wns
killed in the Tower, as it is said, by Richard,
Duke of Gloucester ; and Charles tho 1.,
who married Henrietta Maria, daughter of
Henry the IV., of France, was beheaded
io front of tire Palace at Whitehall.
© U D <© U M & La
For ihe Southern Miscellany.
THE DEATH OF MOSES.
In Moab’s plain the host of Israel lay ;
Around are spread their tents. The toil was past,
Os journeying through a wilderness unknown.
Thus far had safely Moses led them on
By day and night, from Egypt’s wicked land.
Their enemies on either side had fled,
Or fall’ll beneath their arms. Behind were left
The hills, and vales, and brooks. The danger all
Now past, their foes o’ercome, they rest awhile
In Moab’s land, to henr Jehovah speak.
And then God’s prophet rose within their midst,
And gathered round their priests and elders, all,
And all the chosen tribes, who from afar,
At God’s command, to Canaan’s land had come.
The period had arrived when he must die—
And ere he left the people of his care,
To buffet with the Future’s stormy times.
Which he fftfesaw ahead, his voice once more,
In solemn accents, fell upon their ears.
To Pharaoh’s host and Sinai’s burning mount;
To all the judgments which their eye3 had seen;
To all the mercies which their hearts had felt;
To all the blessings which a God could give ;
To all the evils which He could inflict;
To futu e happiness, if they obeyed ;
To future bondage, if they should rebel;
To sorest evils which they wot not of,
And benefits of which they never dreamed;
To all the prophet of the Lord referred,
In this his closing charge. The time had come!
And looking out upon his people, all,
He blessed them, tribe by tribe.
This done, he rose;
And from the plains below to Nebo’s mount
He went—and on the height of Pbgah stood,
Beside the mighty God. At his command,
He looked beyond proud Jordan’s swelling flood,
And saw the promised land—its length and breadth—
Its verdant plains, and undulating hills;
Its purling streams, and forests dark and wild—
Its mountains, towering from the plains below,
Distinctly traced upon the distant sky:
All to the eye of Moses was laid bare,
As on the mount he stood.
And thus God spoke:
Behold ! this is the land which I have sworn
To give to Abrn’ms seed. Thou see’st it now;
But over Jordan thou shaft never go !
Thus God spake unto Moses; and rapidly
Tho tide of life ebbed out, and all its springs
Were closed—sealed up—by God’s ur.cbang’d decree.
The time-worn frame, unbent by age, no a’ fell
Ere yet the land was gained.
And buried there
By God’s own hand—tho spot unknown to men—
This ancient Saint now rests, asleep in Death !
B. C. H.
Madison, June, 1842.
Written for the “Southern Miscellany.”
FAME.
For this men write, and heroes kill, and
Bards burn what they call the “midnight taper
To have when the original is gone—
A name. bybon.
The love of fame is deeply implanted in
tlie human breast. No person is so low in
the scale of being, but what he feels its ani
mating influence. It urges many to the
commission of daring and perilous acts of
bravery, which they fondly hope will serve
to perpetuate their names in after ages.
It is a universal principle, and pervades all
ages, sexes, and conditions of human life,
from the highest to the lowest. The school
boy who carves his name in the bark of
some giant sycamore, is equally as emulous
of fame, as the student who pours over the
“midnight lamp,” in search of the learning
of other ages with which to eDrich bis im
agination. It animates the peasant, as he
toils with the drudgeries of life, inseparable
from his servile condition; and the king
upon his throne, as he wields the sceptres
of nations and the destinies of mankind.—
The desire of transmitting his name to fu
ture ages, incited Napoleon Bonaparte to
the most transcendent deeds of bravery and
conquest; and whose very name caused the
thrones and principalities of the old world
to tremble and totter to their foundation.
His career was short but brilliant. Yet his
fame shall live throughout all time to come;
and the mariner (although his bones have
been removed) will pause at the lone ilso
of St. Helena, to do homage to the spot
where once rested the remains of the mighty
warrior! This love of fame, and the desire
of transmitting their names unsullied to
posterity, nerved tho arms of our revolu
tionary sires as they battled in the struggle
for independence that freed us from the
galling yoke of slavery. This desire of
fame is the great pillar on which our social
fabric rests. This ennobling principle gives
energy to those who are toiling in a virtuous
cause, to know that their nqmes will be re
membered with gratitude, and spoken of
with veneration by succeeding ages as the
benefactors of mankind. How often amid
the most severe trials of life, when engaged
in what we humbly conceive will benefit
the world, we console ourselves with the
pleasing reflection, that if the present gen
eration is incapable of justly appreciating
our motives, posterity will do justice to our
memories? What else but the desire of
having his name handed down to future ages,
incited the daring student, of the Ancient
Dominion, while viewing one of her natur
al sceneries, to inscribe his name high up
on the towering rock—higher than even
tho Father of his Country, and where the
most daring foot-prints had never before as
cended? After cutting his name upon the
rock, he foundit impossible to descend with
out imminent danger of life; and the same
spirit which prompted him to tlie first un
dertaking, now urged him to ascend to the
giddy height. With his knife he made
small incisions in the rock, which supplied
the place of steps, and by an indomitable
spirit of perseverance, succeeded in reach
ing the top, having made liis way up a per
pendicular height of three or four hundred
feet. Thus he has left unto himself a name
which will occupy a high niche in the Tem
ple of Fame. This incident actually occur
red at a place called the “Natural Bridge,”
in Virginia.
Witness also, the conduct of the noble
Irish orator, Emmktt, when anainged be
fore Judges who passed sentence of death
upon him. He stood firm and undaunted
before his accusers—his mind evidently
soaring beyond the age in which lie lived—
and when asked if he hwT any thing to say
why sentence of death should not be pro
nounced against him, made this memorable
reply:
“ Lot no man write my epitaph—for as no
g(D is* ji Hi st hi as© is &a p
man who knows my motives dare now vin
dicate them, so let not malignity or ignorance
asperse them. Let me repose in obscurity
and peace, until other times and other men
can do justice to my character; —when my
country takes her place among the nations
of the earth, then—and not till then—let
my epitaph be written.”
Magnanimous and noble Emmett! while
we admire his character as a patriot, should
we shed the tear of sympathy over hia un
timely fate, it would be no disgrace to our
manhood. PETER.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING AT
THE VERY LOW PRICE Os TWO DOLLARS
AND FIFTY CENTS PER ANNUM ONE DOL
LAR AND FIFTY CENTS FOR SIX MONTHS
IN ADVANCE.
MADISON, GEO l
Saturday, July 3, 9 8-23.
TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.
Our friend “Timothy,” of Savannah, will please ac
cept our thanks lor his favor which appears to-day.
We shall be glad to place him on our li.it of regular
correspondents, and be informed weekly, through
him, of the “doings” in that delightful city.
We cannot insert Obituary cr Marriage notices unless
tho name cf the writer accompnr.ies the notice.
The lines addressed “ To a beautiful Girl” are unwor
thy of her.
We have been anxiously expecting a contribution to
our columns from our valued correspondent “ No
vice.” Shall we be gratified ? We should likewise
bo highly pleased to hear from “ Observer,” “ Sam
Parks,” “li” “E. M. P.” and others who contribu
ted to the first three or four numbers of the “ Mis
cellany.” Where is “ Jotham Hotchkiss ?” Oh,
Jothaui, Jotham! where art thou ?
CAUTION !
The public are cautioned against one Ro
bert H. Gill, who, we learn, is busily en
gaged in the towns of Covington, Oxford,
McDonough and Griffin, in this State, soli
citing subscribers to this paper, borrowing
money on its account, and swindling hotel
keepers, grocers and Stage Agents. He is
no Agent of ours, never having been auth
orized to act in that capacity, and we deem
this notice necessary to prevent his further
imposition on the public. He left here
under a promise to our friend Wiley, of the
American Hotel, never to bring his precious
little carcass to this town again ! He is a
graceless, sneaking little scoundrel,and, lay
ing all his manifold feats of rascality aside,
this last act—practicing imposition upon a
poor Printer —renders him, in our opinion,
incorrigible. He deserves to be paragraph
ed ; indeed he does.
Said Gill is about five feet two inches
high, of florid complexion, light hair, blue
eyes—has a scar on his face—and is about
23 or 25 years of age.
BEAR THIS IN MIND.
Our patrons will please bear in mind that
we cannot receive the notes of any suspend
ed Bank, or tho shinplasters of Macon, Mil
lcdgville or Columbus, for dues to this office,
except at their specie value. Those who
have sent us Central Bank money will be
charged the discount— twenty-two per cent.
Our friends should not murmur on this ac
count, as it is impossible for us to afTord our
paper at a lower price than that at which it
is published.
T. F. Foster will please accept
our thanks for Public Documents sent us.
MADISON LYCEUM.
We are requested to notify the members
of the above Society that their next meet
ing will be held at their room on Tuesday
instead of Monday Evening. Question —
“ Is a man, under any circumstances, justifi
able in telling a lie ?”
TIIE MACON PAPERS.
We would be glad to learn whether, in
mailing their papers, wo have been inten
tionally overlooked by the “ Messenger” and
“ Telegraph,” Macon. Neither of these
papers have been received at this office in
six weeks.
RHODE ISLAND TROUBLE NOT OVER.
By a postcript in the Boston Times of the
24th ultimo, wo learn that Governor King
and Council were in session at the time the
cars left Providence. Martial law had been
proclaimed in that city, and a conflict was
anticipated.
The cars from Providence were loaded with
women and children, flying from the antici
pated horrors of a civil war. The citizens
of Boston have generously thrown open their
doors for tho reception of these unfortunate
fugitives.
THE DRAMA.
Mr. Locke, of the “ Savannah Republi
can,” disclaims having attempted to revolu
tionize the Drama. He is as curious as
ourself to know who the author of “ An
drew Burr” is. Who is he ?
cases of Cholera hare occur
red iu the city of Now York.
OUR NATIONAL BIRTH DAY.
So much has been written and spoken on
the subject of American Independence;
such frequent allusion has been made, for the
last fifty years, to the prominent events in
our history, that, whenever any thing is to
be said connected with our National Anni
versary, we expect only hackneyed words
upon a hackneyed theme. But no matter
how often the tale has been told, the recol
lection of the struggles, privations and glo
rious deeds of our fathers can never fail to
awaken in tho bosom of the true American
emotions of the deepest gratitude, and the
warmest and purest patriotism. The duti
ful son, although he may have been remind
ed a thousand times of the anxious care,
and patient toil endured m his behalf by a
revered and beloved parent, never calls to
his remembrance that parental labor, and
sacrifice, and self-denial, without a feeling
of stronger affection and deeper reverence.
The prattle of a darling boy, who daily
climbs his father’s knee, never ceases to be
music in that father’s ear. So the real pa
triot never wearies of recounting the noble
deeds of the heroes of his country —dwell-
ing upon the history of her gallant struggles
for freedom—admiring and extolling her
sons, who have won a name for greatness
and magnanimity, and exulting in her rising
power, and honor, and splendor. Among
all objects beneath the sun, he gives his
Country the highest and dearest place in his
affections, and no incident in her history,
affecting her honor or welfare, can be repeat
ed too often to arouse within him the spirit
of the lover of his Country. Nothing, per
haps, can contribute more to make a peo
ple proud of their Country, jealous of her
honor, and devoted to her interests, than to
recur to those portions of her history, which
distinguish her statesmen and soldiers, and
make her great and honorable among the
nations. And no country on earth can boast
of more exalted genius, or greater magna
nimity among her public counsellors, or
nobler virtue, or more dauntless valor among
her soldiers, than ours. We feel a joyful
pride as we look back and see what our
Country ha3 been and what she has become.
We rejoice that we are Countrymen of those
great and gallant souls of’76, who, in the
hour of deepest darkness and gloom, dared
to defy the gigantic power of their oppres
sors, and tell them they were “ determined
to be free”—and of otheis who met them
in the field of deadly strife, and there, amid
the roar and clash, and dust and blood of
battle, won for themselves and their posteri
ty laurels whose ever-green glory shall never
fade. As our minds rest upon these char
acters and these scenes, we forget our par
ty contentions and sectional jealousies and
feel only that we are Americans. We feel
bound to the institutions of our common
country, and to our fellow-countrymen, by
ties too sacred to be sundered or distracted
by domestic broils and factious contentions.
Could vve, by cherishing national recollec
tions, keep alive in our hearts a remem
brance of the price our liberties cost, the
bright example of those who achieved
them, and the glorious results of their dark
and direful struggle, our union would be
perpetual, and our power immovable—Ju
dah would no longer vex Ephraim nor
Ephraim Judali. Our stars and stripes
would be the insignia not only of Freedom,
but of prosperity, harmony, and enduring
honor.
A day more illustrious in the annals of
the political world, than the Fourth of July,
Seventeen Hundred and Seventy-six, never
dawned upon the earth. It should be com
memorated till the end of time. Each re
turning anniversary should beushered in by
roaring cannon, spreading banners, and ex
ulting freemen. It should be celebrated by
assemblys of the people, and tho rehearsal
of the events which make it glorious, by
processions, and feasts, and songs and thanks
giving to God! By every manifestation of
gladness, which can honor the day, or add
to the joy of a grateful and happy nation.
It is the natal day of America and Liberty !
Our acclamations should rise to the heavens;
our thundering artillery should sound a re
quiem for the revered and gallant dead, un
til it shake the very dust in their graves.
Parents should tell to their children the
meaning of the sights and sounds that greet
them on our national jubilee, point them to
the day when the great interests of Free
doni will be committed to them, to be pre
served and transmitted to others, and im
press upon their minds the sentiment of
every American heart, “Independence now,
and Independence forever.”
COTTON MARKET.
Small lots of Cotton continue to arrive,
which are partially bought up here, and sent
forward. A considerable portion, of late,
lias been bought by the Agent of the Scull
Shoals Manufacturing Company, at 4 \ to 7
cents, current funds. Yesterday 8 cents,
Central money, was paid for a load for said
Company.
Our market is well supplied with Groce
ries, and our merchants assure us that ample
supplies will be kept both for home con
sumption and distant demand, at fair prices.
Corn and corn meal are in demand.
The Now Jersey Legislature have pass
ed a law abolishing imprisonment for debt.
“MORLY ERNSTEIN,” BY JAMES.
In this work the author has departed from his usual
method of building on an historical foundation, and
has produced an interesling tale in which those oppos
ing principles of the human mind that point to earth
and heaven, are depicted in various relations, but par
ticularly as affecting the character and actions of Mor
ley Ernstein, a young man of rank and fortune in
England but of German ancestry.
“Can we say,” asks old Montaigue, “that any part
of us, during our sojourn in this earthly prison, is pure
ly corporeal, or purely spiritual,” and, says the au
thor, “ certnin it is that in many an act where we im
agine the body alone takes part, the spirit has as great
a share, and many a thought where the mind seems to
divest herself of clay, the impulse was given by the
body, not the soul.”
He distinguishes in the mind of man not only the
spirits which prompt to good and evil, but separate from
these, two principles, each acting through the agency
of the intellect; one, that of animal existence, the
olher, that of immortal life. Os these, he denominates
one, “ The spirit of the soul,” the otiier, “ The spirit of
the flesh,” and the struggle between these two powers,
which constitutes the moral history of man, it is his
object to delineate.
Morley Ernstein, the hero of tlie tale, is first intro
duced on the day after coming of age, when, seated in
the home of his fathers he finds himself master of for
tune, station, youth, strength, and expectatian—an
hour of which bright visions had risen before his eyes
—of which lie had dreamed through long years—yet
now, that the dream was accomplished, and he had
nolhing but his own will to control him, he felt that
something was warning to happiness, or that human
happiness was not the bright thing he had thought it.
The “Spirit of the soul” wns then prevailing, that spirit
which, untrammeled by the things of earth, obtains its
impulses from other sources, and receives winged inspi
rations from the world to which it tends.
Thus uncontrolled by friends or fortune, accident
throws him into intimate companionship with a most
seductive and dangerous associate, whose personal
graces and sophistical arguments are eminently quali
fied to mislead his inexperience. But the tempter does
not prevail; for armed with a clear perception of right
and wrong, which no sophistry can blind, he holds fast
his integrity, or if he falls, it is but to rise again with
renewed strength for the conflict Yet the mere force
of good principle and moral determination is not his
% only support, a pure and devoted attachment is placed
as before his heart, and its influence is ever
powerful against temptation.
This affection however meets with obstacles from
the revengeful spirit of a crabbed old man, the lady’s
supposed father, who having several years before, frau
dulently obtained possession of an estate by substitu
ting a friendless infant for his own, was suspected of
the deceit, and charged with it by old Sir Morley. It
seems that the suspicion extended no farther, for he re
tained the property, and educated the child as his
daughter, but years afterwards, his vindictive spirit
found satisfaction in disturbing the happiness of his op
ponent’s son.
The difficulty is at length satisfactorily arranged
through the testimony of Juliet’s nurse, who returns
from India whither she had followed her husband, after
receiving a reward for participating in the fraud.
One of the most prominent characters in the book is
Morlcy’s tempter, Count Lieberg, a man of attractive
manners, high birth and fortune, hut who strikes usas
rather more diabolical than human, one of the plausible
race of demons, much resembling the Mephistopholes
of Goethe, and a sort of first cousin to Milton’s Belial,
than whom,
“ A fairer person lost not heaven, he seemed
For dignity composed and high exploit,
But all was false and hollow, though his tongue
Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash
Matured councils, yet his thoughts were low
To vice industrious, but to nobler thoughts
Timorous and slothful, yet he pleased the ear.”
Now, apply the description of Count Lieberg to this
personage, and imagine him “ dressed in the height
but not the excess of fashion, his glossy black hair
waving lightly over his high clear forehead, his fine eyes
sparkling with that peculiar lire and lustre which ren
dered them so different from the eyes of any other be
ing, his lips bearing a mild and pleasant smile, while
his whole air and look was that of a high-finished and
graceful gentleman ’’ —and you have both the inner and
outer man of Count Lieberg before you.
It was evidently the author’s intention to make him
fascinating, and he is so—hut in our opinion he has al
lowed “ a thought too much ’.’ of the sneering devil to
appear if he wished him to preserve his incog. Mor
ley’s good principles surely, though unconsciously took
the alarm at an early period of their acquaintance, and
a lovely girl who figures largely in the scene, and di
vides our interest with the heroine herself, drew his
portrait a-la-fiend after only one interview.
This lady whom tho author describes as an example
of the virtues and fine qualities which adorn some
women, and might adorn all, in circumstances of sor
row, distress and disappointment, will probably, with
many readers, be a greater favorite than Juliet—her
trials arc assuredly more severe, and the rectitude of
mind and self-denying generosity she exhibits, are ad
mirable.
Towards the conclusion of the narrative, disclosures
are made which render it probable that Lieberg from
tiie first planned the destruction, moral and temporal,
of Morley—whose inflexible integrity and true-hearted
ness are however rewarded with complete victory over
his maehinations—and the tempter passes away in a
somewhat mysterious manner. Was he shot ?or was
he drowned? or was he whisked off in the storm?
Mr. James seems to have left the point rather unde
cided—though he assures us that his spirit still lives,
and pervades too many a scene, blasting with its pres
ence what might otherwise be bright.
Asa whole, this work is superior to any of Mr-
James’ latter productions; tho interest is well sustain
ed ; and its pure morality and generous sentiments will
gratify every reader.
RAIL ROAD IRON.
Our Rail Road Depot presents a lively
scene in tho delivery of the Iron destined to
complete the Western and Atlantic Rail
Road, to near Cassville. About 100 wagon
loads have been sent forward, and some
500 loads aro yet on hand.
POLITICAL ON DITS.
It is rumored we are to have an entire
change in the Cabinet. Mr. Webster and
Mr. Spencer are to retire ; Mr. Upshur to
go to Franee; Mr. Stevenson, of Virginia,
to be Secretary of State; Mr. Cushing, of
Massachusetts, to be Secretary of tho Na
vy ; and Mr. Marcy, of New York, to bo
Secretary of War.
DROWNED HERSELF.
A negro woman belonging to Moses Fos
ter, Esq., of this County, drowned herself
on Saturday last, by jumping into tho Apa
lachee river.
OCjr’The degree of A. B. was conferred
on Joseph T. Reese, of Hillsborough in this
State, at the late Commencement of Ran
dolph Macon College.
OURSELF AGAIN NOTICES FROM THE TRESS,
Our subscribers, no doubt, are as anxious
as ourself to learn the opinions of the Pre: •
in regard to our paper: to satisfy them, and
to gratify the little vanity which we possess,
we have transferred a few more compli
mentary notices to our columns.
Thus far in the course of our publication,
we have received no complaints and, inde
pendent of the Press, many compliments.—
We are thankful for the compliments, and
would be glad to see those who are so wil
ling to bestow them after the fashion of tho
world, come up with better and more tangi
ble evidence of their kindness, in the form of
new subscribers. We feel obliged, in jus
tice, to say that many citizens of Morgan havo
not manifested that interest in our under
taking which it deserves. It is true that our
subscription list is fast increasing—probably
as rapidly as wo had any right to expect—
but our daily expenses are great, and many,
aye hundreds more of subscribers will bo
necessary to render it in the least profitable
to ourself. Come up, kind friends, and suc
cor us : we shall give you full value for the
pittance required for subscription. We are
proud toadd,that in manysections ofourowu
State, North and Soulb Carolina, and Alaba
ma, we are meeting the favorable regard and
encouragement wo so much hoped for; irr
short, we have the satisfaction to state that
whereever our paper is known, our labors
are appreciated, and our friends increasing.
We assure them that our best exertions shall
always be made to merit their patronage.
We give an immense amount of reading for
Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, and are glad
to find it just what all our readers—those
residing in the country, particularly—desire.
Our selections embrace almost every vari
ety of subjects ; and our original communi
cations are not inferior to those of any oth
er newspaper in the Country.
As our patronage increases, so shall the
“ Miscellany” in interest and beauty. We
have in contemplation many improvements ;
as, for instance, we are anxious to conform
to their wishes and treat our lady readers to
a piece of new and popular Music once eve
ry month, and to introduce a number of
splendid T Vdod Engravings, illustrative of
our own scenery, buildings, &c.—but as mo
ney will l>e required to procure these im
provements, vve shall be under the necessity
of deferring them until our patronage will
warrant their adoption.
But to the notices. The first is from the
“ Savannah Republican,” one of the oldest
and most respectable papers in the State.
We thank the Editor for his good opinion,
and would inform him, (in reply to the last
paragraph of his notice,) that the proprietor
of the “ Miscellany” is “ a practical printer”
—having served an apprenticeship of seven
years in the office of the “ Savannah Geor
gian ;” and more than that, he expects to
live and die iu the pursuance of his profes
sion.
“ Southern Miscellany. —We have before
spoken in terms of commendation of this
paper. Tt is published at Madison, in Mor
gan County, and is edited by C. R. Hanlei
ter, Esq., who has brought to his task good
talents, good taste, anti untiring industry.
In its appearance the Miscellany is one of
tlie handsomest papers wc have ever seen.
The impression is an admirable one, iu types
of the fairest description, while the head of
the paper is beautifully ornamented with an
elegant vignette, representing, in the centre,
the arms of the State, while on the right
and left are figures of history and the spirit
of poetry , with “ scenery, dresses, and deco
rations,” to suit, (if vve may borrow theatri
cal language.)
“ Mr. H. must, vve think, be a practical
printer, or he could not, otherwise, give his
gazette so finished and truly elegant a dress.
We doubt if there are any country papers
in the North better printed.”
The next is from the “ Family Compani
on and Ladies’ Mirror,” published in Macon,
in this State, and edited by Mrs. Sarah Law*
renre Griffin, author of a series of valuable
Southern School Books, and William T.
Thompson, Esq., the talented and gentle
manly Editor of thelate “ Augusta Mirror.”
In reply to the query put by the Editor, wo
state, that, like many of our brethren, we
were disposed to keep the “ birth place” of
that work “in the dark,” lest its circulation
at the South might be impaired—but, not
withstanding our sincere desire to see the
“ Orion” and “ Magnolia,” as well as the
“ Companion” flourish, we shall hereafter
in noticing thorn, “ speak our mind”—com
mend, eulogize and condemn according to their
various merits.
“ Southern Miscellany. —Our intention to
do so, must serve as our apology for not hav
ing noticed this excellent weekly before. It
is among the handsomest and most readable
family newspapers that reach us from any
quarter, and if any tiling may be augured
from its matter and mariner, it is destiued to
become a popular journal. Margati coun
ty alone, has the taste and liberality to sus
tain such a paper; but wo should be sur
prised, indeed, if it did not in time obtain a
wide circulation, wherever true merit is ap
preciated. Os course, we have reference
to the south ; for though thousands upon
thousands of the trashy weeklies of the
north, withtheirhumbugging advertisements
of patent medicines, personal paragraphs,
foreign gossip, local news, police reports,
and theatrical puffs, are circulated among
us, yet we anticipate that a long time will
elapse, ere Mr. llanlf.iter obtains a circu
lation north of Mason and Dixon’s Line,
sufficient to pay his stationer’s bill. But let
not this circmstancc discourage him. While