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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