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and now watched with eager interest for the moment, when, weary with the toils of the day, Herbert should yield to the influence of slumber. He did not wait long, or in vain. For half an hour he sat motionless, watching the deep breathing of the sleeper, and when assured that it was unfeigned, he tried several means to place it beyond all doubt. He arose and walked briskly across the- floor, moving a chair or two in his pas sage, then watched the effect. Herbert stirred not a limb. He again returned to the hearth—stood over him a moment —laid himself down by his side—lifted an arm from the pallet and laid it on his breast — again arose —kindled anew the light that had almost died away upon the hearth looked upon him under the influence of this stronger light—dropped a cane upon the’ floor near his head—but no motion marked the consciousness of the man before him, and his deep and heavy breathing was un checked and undisturbed. Satisfied that no deception was practiced upon him, he went to a large chest in one corner of the room, and drew from it a brace of pistols and a long knife, fie seated him self at the fire—examined the flints and the priming, and adjusting a leathern belt a round bis body, be placed a pistol at each side, and thrust a knife into a sheath that de pended from it. Thus accoutred, he rose up. Looking once more to see if Searcy slept, and satisfying himself that he was un observed in his movements, he cautiously approached the door, opened it without a noise, and passing out, closed it silently be laud him. It waslongaftcrmuluight whenChemick’o, sitting in the door of the small cabin, thought he saw the indistinct form of a man moving cautiously among the bushes at the end of the house he guarded. He elevated his head and looked sharply in that direction, but he saw it no more. Resolved not to be surprised, he entered the house, went up to Huddleston, examined his bonds, and found that he was in the same place he had left him, securely pinioned to the side of the house. lle then returned to the door, and planted himself exactly in it, determined to defend the entrance against every attack. His suspicions were aroused at first by the signs passing between Guilford and Hud dleston—again by the noise he had heard in the house when the cane fell upon the floor, so long after the conversation had ceased—and again by the form he thought he had seen moving towards the cabin ; though iu this he might he deceived, yet as a true son of the forest, all these circum stances were promptly marked by him, and his own conclusions drawn from them. While busied in these speculations a sup pressed whispering, proceeding from the far corner of the cabin caught his attention. Rut then it ceased. Chemicko was now sure someone was behind the house who intended the rescue of Huddleston. He at once determined to call Searcy, so that if an attempt shonltl he made he might not he overcome. Rut lie was arrested in his pur pose by a sudden crash, as of falling boards, and in the same moment a rnan leapt from a whole in the roof upon the floor. The darkness wholly obscured the features and almost the lot m of the person. Chemicko paused not—the time for ac tion had come. Leaning his rifle beside the door of the cabin, as a useless* weapon for the present, he drew his knife and uttering a shrill and terrible whoop, that was star tling enough almost to break the slumbers of the dead —he rushed forward to the fight. On entering the door, his person was reveal ed by the dim light from without to those within, aiul the report of a pistol rung upon the morning air. Chemicko reeled for- 1 ward and fell heavily upon the floor. A loud laugh of triumph succeeded this event. “ Now Guilford, lie quick, and I shall yet be revenged upon this Virginia braggart and his virtuous Ellen. Ah ! but my very heart leaps with joy at the thought of throt tling him before her eyes. That red devil there has done his last job for the present. Rut ho quick and loose me, for I hear the fellow coining—quick, quick, cut the cords. Now I am free again—give me your pistol. I’ll pay him off the debt I owe him with compound interest. Rut ho comes—he steady Guilford, and wait my call. I de sire to do the work alone—my revenge will be thesweeter.” Thus speaking he planted himself, pistol iu hand, beside the door. Herbert heurd the whoop of the jndian, and leaping up from his hard bed, was a moment bewildered with a confused sense of danger.. The report of the pistol recall ed his selfpossession, and throwing open the door he rushed forth in tiie direction of the sound. He had turned the corner of the larger house, and was running rapidly up to the other when Huddleston, planting Kimself in the door-way, exclaimed— “ Die, Villain, die!” and fired. The next moment the sturdy ruflian mea sured his length beside the Indian. Guil ford saw his friend struck to the ground as with a bolt of Heaven, so sudden and unex pected was the stroke. His own heart sunk within him, and he dared not move from his fiosition, Jest the next blow should fall upon limsclf. Herbert Searcy entered the house, calling upou Chemicko. The faithful In dian responded to the call. Though fallen and stunned, yet he had not been seriously hurt. The ball had grained his skull, but lie had recovered sufficiently from its effect by the time Herbert arrived to be able to get into a sitting position. This he occu pied when the pistol was fired at Herbert, and when Frank Huddleston received the blow that sent him head-long to the ground, he touched Chemicko as he fell, and he had scarcely reached the floor before the knife of the Indian was buried to the hilt in his side. When called for by Herbert, Chemi cko drily remarked, as he drew out the knife, all reeking with the heart’s blood of Huddles tou, “ Him bad white man—poor shoot—but him no trouble you agin—him safe now— Guilford come cut’m loose—but Chemicko no sleep—Guilford had man—make sign— him skulk in corner—’fraidtoo much.” Herbert turned in the direction indicated and saw Guilford drawn up into the small est possible compass, waiting with a trem bliug heart the uext act .in this midnight tragedy. ... “ Kindle a light, Chemicko,” said Her bert, “ and let us see who we have here. “Ah !” he exclaimed, as a light shewn up from the hearth, “my hospitable host! You knew the man now lying dead before you as a consummate villain, richly meriting the punishment he was to receive, and now I find you his companion and accomplice.” Ry this time the females, aroused from their sleep and alarmed at the noise with out, made their appearance. Ellen was pale from fear and agitation. Doubt as to her lover’s safety rested upon her mind, and prompted the words she littered. “ What have they done—where is Her bert ? Has my fierce enemy escaped, and am I again exposed to his outioge and vio lence ? Oh ! God pity me—spare me !” Her words fell upon the ear of her lover, and he ran and caught her iu his arms ere she fell, reassured her of his safety, and told her of the death of Huddleston. “ Heaven it just!” she murmured, “the day of reckoning comes sooner or later. What a fearful account must he render for the deeds of a reckless and lawless life.” “ Yes, Ellen ’tis but the act of stern, and uncompromising justice that has cut him oft’ without a warning. I wished it otherwise. I desired that the law of the land should have taken its course upon him, as an out law and robber—hut heaven has deemed it otherwise. Chemicko’s arm has interposed again in your behalf, and sent another vic tim to his long account. Madam,” said he, turning to the young and not unhandsome wife of Guilford, who stood a trembling witness of the scene before her—“your kindness to Ellen has secured your hus band’s protection. He would have rescued that ruffian there from the hands of justice, and turned him loose again upon the eartli to devour and spoil the innocent. Rut in that he has been prevented. You would have afforded us shelter for the night secure from danger—and we are your debtors. He would have used the confidence we re posed in him to betray us. In that he has signally failed. He is my debtor for his life, and you for a husband. I spate him. And sir, 1 would advise you to suffer the lesson of this night, and the history of that dead man to remain as a warning, never to be forgotten. Cultivate the principles of vir tue and integrity—let your arm always be raised in behalf of the innocent and help less. Thus you may retrieve the character you have lost, and become a fit companion f'orthe wife of your bosom.” Day was dawning as Herbert Searcy closed the above remarks. Hasty prepara tions were made to leave the place, and by sunrise Herbert and Ellen, accompanied by Chemicko, were on their way to Greensbo ro’, happy in the consciousness of their present joys, and without a cloud resting upon the brightness of their future pros pects. Madison, Ga. Declaration (f Independence. —The na tional Intelligenter of Monday contains the following article in relation to Charles Car roll, of Carrollton, the last survivor in 1826, of all those who signed the Declaration of Independence : In the year 1526, after all save one of the band of patriots whose signatures are borne on the Declaration of Independence had descended to the tomb, and the venerable Carroll alone remained among the living, the government of the city of New York deputed a committee to wait on the illustri ous survivor, and obtain from him for site in the public hall of the city, a copy of the Declaration of 1776, graced and authen ticated anew with his sign manual. The aged patriot yielded to the request, and af fixed, with his own hand, to a copy of that instrument, tlie grateful, solemn, and pious supplemental Declaration, which follows : “ Grateful to Almighty God for the bless * ings which through Jesus Christ, our Lord, ‘he has conferred on my beloved country ‘ in her emancipation, and on myself, in per ‘ milling me, under circumstances of nier ‘ cy, to live to the age of 89 years, and to ‘ survive the fiftieth year of American In ‘ dependence, and certify by my present * signature, my approbation of the Deelnra ‘ tion of Independence adopted by Congress ‘on the 4tli of July, 1776, which 1 originsil ‘ ly subscribed on the 2d day of August of ‘ the same year, and of which I am now the ‘ last surviving signer, I do hereby recom ‘ mend to the present and future generations ‘the principles of that important document * as the best earthly inheritance their ances ‘ tors could bequeath to them, and pray that ‘ the civil and religious liberties, they have ‘ secured to my country, may he perpetua * ted to remotest posterity, and extended to ‘the whole family of man. “ CHARLES CARROLL, of Carrollton. “ August 2, 1826.” Extraordinary Instance of Gambling. —lt is well known upon the western waters, that the firemen and other hands employed upon the boats spend much of their idle time in playing cards. Os the passion for gaming, thus excited, an instance has been narrated to us upon the most credible au thority, which surpasses theliighest wrought fictions of the gambler’s fate. A colored fireman, on board a steam boat running be tween this and New Orleans, had lost all his money at poker with his companions.—He then staked his clothing, and being still un fortunate, pledged his own freedom for a small amount, losing this the bets were doubled, and he finally, at one desperate hazard, ventured his full valuo as a slave, and laid down his free papers to represent the stake. He lost, suffered his certificates to be destroyed, and was actually sold by the winner to a slave dealer, who hesitated not to take him at a small discount upon his assessed value. When last heard of by one who kno\ys him, and who informed us of the fact, he was still paying in servitude the penalty of his criminal folly. Hint to Blacksmiths. —The cutting debars of iron, or pipes, with the chisel, is a labo rious and tardy process. Ry the following mode, the same end is attained more easily. Bring the iron to a white heat, and then, fix ing it in a vice, apply the common saw, which, xvithout being turned in the edge, will divide it us easily as if it were a carrot. ■ a <di® mm ibp ai ua ©mii TEMPERANCE ODE. BY K. M. CHARLTON, ESQ. Aik—Marseilles Ilymn. Ye friends of Virtue! wake to duty, See, see ! what havoc Vice has made; — The widow’s erics, the tears of Beauty, Implore your help—beseech your aid: Shall tyrant Custom, ruin bringing, Reel to and fro throughout the land, With none to raise a voice or hand, To warn the victims round it clinging ? Awake, awake from sloth, Proclaim with loudest breath, That he whodraius the “ flowing howl,” Drinks shame, despair, and death. Oh Temperance! can man forsake thee, And all thy tranquil joys give up; Or will he,vain'y hope to make thee Companion ol the sparkling cup ? Ah no! the wise this lesson knoweth, That danger in each goblet lies, And he the bright enchantment flies, And quaffs the tide that llenv’n heslowe'h. Awake, awake from sloth, etc. The close of the Week. —A week ! It is but a shut t lime indeed, but its events are a host, ils changes many. To whom lias the week just about to close, brought joy? to whom sorrow ? lo whom riches ? to whom poverty? to whom friends? to whom ene mies ? to whom love? to whom hatred? to whom sickness? lo whom health? to whom life? to whom death? What! all these changes in one week ? Yea and a host more numerous than the sands of the sen. Many who saw the dawning of the present week w ill he in another world before it closes ; many upon whoni fortune smiled hot a week ago, are now groaning beneath the withering frowns of poverty; many who were floating gently on the bark of life, o’er the unruffled sea of iiappiness a week ago, are now wrecks of ruin on the shores of affliction ; many upon whom llie sun of the last Sabbath shone propitiously, have ere this time met with some ill-fortune, and are turned upon the world the children of poverty ; ami many whose expectations ar.d hopes were beaming forth, bright and prosperous at the dawn of the week, find themselves at its close the sad and miserable beings of cruel disappointment. And such is the life of man ! It is subject to changes in a week, a day, nay, even an hour. The world is still in commotion—rev. olution succeeding revolution—time whirling on in its rapid progress, leaving behind its traces of destiuction; and even in a small community, many thrilling and exciting cir cumstances might be summed up, and record ed at the close of each week.— Mound City. The Sabbath. —Reader, have you ever con templated the approach of a'Sabbath, with feelings of puregratitude to the great I AM, who set it apart as a day of rest, front the tods and drudgeries of life. Have you ever gazed upon the setting sun at a Saturday eve, as he threw his farewell smile upon the ocean wave, and bathed the mountain tops in floods of molton gold? Have you ever watched him sink gradually away, with a halo of burn ing clouds upon his brow, and thought that on the morrow lie would again emerge from the dawning East, to look down upon the se renity of a Sabbath ? Yes! we hear the glad response from a thousand voices, all exclaim ing yes ! We hcarthe merchant as lie turns the key of his counting room exclaim yes! as he fondly dreams of a relax from the din of business which surrounded him through the week. We see the man of pleasuro respond with emphasis, us he looks forward with de light to the enjoyments of a ride in the coun try, where he can luxuriate in the fanning breeze, redolent with the perfume in the wild flowers that strew the plain, and gaze enrap tured upon the rural scenes, which meet tiie wandering eye at every turn. llowdelightful then is the Sabbath—all hail it—all enjoy it —all look forward to it with thoughts, above the things of this earth, and purer than the grovelling drudgery of tnind, attendant upon the business of the week- The hum of business preparation is suspended —our streets arc evacuated hv the crowds which throng them daily, and all is hushed in the sweet serenity of Sabbath Silence—save when the solemn tones of the surrounding Church bells, tali upon the ear, lo remind us flint the Sabbath is a day we owe to our Ma ker—a day oil which we should wend our way to the House of God. —Mound City. Animals turned Authors. —ls animals were to turn authors, the eagle would excel in epic, and the sheep in pastoral poetry. The elephant would produce an excellent trea tise on philosophy, the horse employ his genius on chivalry; the cow oil agriculture, and the dog cut a figure in the drama. The writings of the monkey would excel in sa tire and burlesque; while the cat would be distinguished for the sarcasm, envy, anddis ingeuousness of his composition. The style of the lion would bo hold, ab rupt and Pindaric; while the gander would be remarkable for the extreme verbosity and diff'usenessof his language. The badger would probably attemptatreatise on medical perfumes, the turkey a disquisition on the mock heroic. The genius of the owl would exhibit itself in the composition of elegies, and solemn dirges ; that of the bear in an essay on waltz ing. As for the hog, he could never excel in polite literature, but might favor the world with a critical analysis of the philosophy of Bacon. The peacock would make ail ex cellent contributor to the Lady’s Magazine and the annuals. The whale would write powerfully on the depopulating consequen ces of the Greenland fishery, and the pigeon on letter carrying. The goose would make a blue-stocking of the first class, and would be famous for dealing in scandal. The magpie would be a notorious plago rist, cabbaging ideas at all hands. As for the pat rot, he would not indulge in written composition, but be fond of showing off as a public speaker. For composing political harangues, the ass would be unrivalled. The reason of things lies in a narrow com pass, if the mind could at any time be so happy as to light on it. Most of the writings and discourses of the world are but illustra tion and rhetoric, which signifies as much as nothing to a mind in-pursuit of philosophi cal truth. The editor of the Mobile Herald quotes from the Montgomery Advertiser the fol lowing glowing eulogy to the water of the Robinson Springs, in Autangacounty, Ala bama : “And oh, such water! cooler than the breath of Spring, clearer than chrystal, pure as a woman's heart, and sparkling as cham pagne ! One goblet of such a liquid were worth a pipe of wine, and there is not a headache in a hogshead ot it! Had Nero drunk such water he never would have been a tyrant, bis head would have been too clear anil his blood too cool, for it takes a distem pered head and heated circulation to make one.” Well, does the description captivate, en trance, enchain the editor of the Herald ? No such thing. He closes the quotation by remarking that water in general and the Robinson Springs water ill particular “ is an excellent thing to boil potatoes in!” This is a sinking in sentiment with a vengeance. Nothing to Do. —We never have an exal ted opinion of a female, when we see her endeavoring to spread abroad the impression that she has nothing particular to do, and that all her time is at her own disposal.— We know some body must work to support her, and if she is unwilling to engage in house-work, or do herown sewing, weknow she is not a suitable person for a wife. It is painful to witnessthe manner in which many daughters are brought up. They live as if nature designed them for butterflies, to flirt away their existence without benefiting ei ther themselves or others—instead of work ing for their own support and the mainten ance of others. Such females will never make suitable companions for mail —and if left without property, must suffer indescri bably for their folly to the latest period of existence. Females should take pride in supporting themselves. It is no disgrace to labor and those who learn trades or take in work, are more happy, enjoy better health and are in a fairer way of getting good husbands xlian the lazy and the fashionable. A man of sense chooses a help-meet for life, and not a toy. A simpleton only will take to his bo som a flirt or a coquette. Let girls remem ber this, and betake themselves to indus trious habits, anil they will never regret it to the latest period of existence* — Portland Tribune. Blushing. —We love to see the rosy hue mounting over the neck and face of a beau tiful woman; it shadows forth delicately and softly the gentle feeling of her soul. It is the evidence of timidity, which is lovely on.- ly to women. Out upon your masculine mind ; out upon your rough sturdy genius ! we prefer the reed to the ash—the ivy to the oak. Woman’s natural element is retire ment; her home, the domestic circle. Unfit by nature to buffet with the world’s waves, or mingled in its strife; she lives dependent upon a stronger spirit, and repays in kind ness and gentleness, that which she con ceives in protection and support. We cannot bear a woman who never blushes; the steady, cold, calm eye has no charm* for us; there is a beauty and a gen tleness in the downcast look, starting tear, and warm blush that defies comparison even with the loveliest of the haughty. Those who endeavor to curb and restrain this feel ing, thinking it a weakness, err strangely in their ideas; let it alone, their is no deformity in the indulgence. Rainbows. —The doctrine of the rainbow is confirmed by a very easy and simple ex fieriment. If a globe, full of water, be mng up iti the sunshine, and viewed in such a position, that the rays which proceed from the globe to the eye, may, with the sun’s rays include an angle of about 42 degress, a full red color will bfe seen in that side of the globe which is opposite to the sun ; if the angle be made less, either by raising the eye or lowering the globe, the other colors, yellow, green, blue, &c., will appear in succession. If the angle be 50 degrees, a faint red color will be seen in that side of the globe towards the sun ; if the angle be made greater, the other colors wifi be seen successively. Oh! if, when we oppress and grind our fellow creatures, we bestowed but one thought on the dark evidences of human er ror, which like dense and heavy clouds are rising, slowly it is true, hut not less surely, to heaven, to pour their after vengeance up on our heads—if we heard but one instant, in imagination, the deep testimony of dead men’s voices, which no power can stifle, and no pride shut out, where would be the inju ry and injustice, the suffering, misery, cru elty and wrong, that each day’s life brings with it ?— Dickens. Titles. —Several years ago there was a young English nobleman figuring away at Washington. He had not much brains, but a vast number of titles, which have the ef fect of tickling the ears of some amazingly. Several young ladies were in debate, going over the list—he is Lord Viscount so and so, Raroti of such a county, See., “My fair friends,” exclaimed tiie gallaut Lieut. N. “one of his titles you appear to have forgot ten.” ‘ Ah,’ exclaimed they eagerly, ‘ what is that ?’ “He is Barren of Intellect,” was the reply. king Charles’ golden rules. 1. Urge no healths. 2. Profane no divine ordinances. 3. Touch no state matters. 4. Reveal no secrats. 5. Pick no quarrels. 6. Make no comparisons. 7. Maintain no ill opinions. 8. Keep no bad company. 9. Encourage no vice. 10. Make no lotig meals. 11. Repeat no grievances. 12. Lay no wagers. Gentlemen are oftener found among the ‘ hewers of wood and drawers of water’ than among the highborn and the rich. A dandy having taken it into his head not to eat any vegetables being asked if he had ever eat any in his life, answered. “ Yes, madam, I once eat a pea.” Encouraging to Mechanics. —By tlio Ma dison Indiana Courier, v\# learn that the Municipal officers of that place are all filled by Mechanics. The Courier says : “ Our Mayor is a Cabinet-maker, our Marshal a Blacksmith, the City Attorney a Plasterer, the Secretary a Carpenter, the Assessor a Pattern maker, the Collector a Tobacconist, and three of the nine Council men are Tailors, two are Carpenters, one a Machinist, one a Wagon-maker, one a Mill wright, and one Fan Mill-maker. Let any other city in the United States beat us if they can. Who will say we are not work ingmen 1” The Town of Gordon.—We are pleased to learn, (says the Sandcrsville Telescope) that the Directors of the Central Rail Road Company have selected a prominent site on the line of the road, fora town, to be named Gordon, in honor of the late President of tlie Company. It is located in Wilkinson county, one hundred and seventy miles from Savannah, twenty from Macon and fourteen from Milledgeville, and will he the depot for a great portion of middle Georgia, say Wilk inson, Baldwin, Pulaski, Dooly, Laurens, Twiggs, and a portion of Putnam, Jasper and Jones. As regards health, no place in this section of the State possesses greater advantages than Gordon. It is on the divi ding ridge between the Oconee and Ocniul gee rivers, many miles distant from swamp lands of any description, and abounds in the most excellent water. The land lias been purchased by our fel low-citizen, D. Solomon, Esq ; who, we are informed. intends to oiler lots for sale early the ensuing fall. A Contrast. —The youngest son of Louis Philippe is about to enter the army as a Lieutenant of Artillery. What a pity that Royal personages can never fix upon any other profession than that of slayers of men! The Emperor of China, who is a heathen, displays, in this respect, a more Christian example to his people than the professing Christian Princes of Europe. What time he devotes to manual labor, is employed in agriculture. lie takes more pride in being a ploughman than a soldier. Hence the comparative happiness of his people; nor will Europe ever arrive at any degree of lasting happiness till her rulers follow the sage example of the Monarch of China. President Houston.—lnfluence of Woman. —The Cincinnati Enquirer states that the character of this gentleman has undergone an entire and happy change since he has taken upon himself the responsibility of a married life. His manners arc more refined; lie is no longer intehiperate, and behaves himself like a good Christian. The En quirer ascribes this most fortunate change to Ids amiable and accomplished lady. A Quaker Answer. —Martha does thee love me ? asked a qunker youth of one at whose shrine his heart’s holiest feelings had been offered up. Why, Seth, answered she, we are com manded to love one another, are we not ? All, Martha, but does thee regard me with that feeling the world calls love ? I hardly know what to tell thee, Seth. I have greatly feared that my heart was an erring one. I have tried to bestow rny love on all; hut I may have sometimes thought, perhaps, that thee was getting rather more than thy share. A Chance. —The editor of a paper in Pennsylvania says he wants a wife, tind lie thus enumerates the necessary qualifications of the lady: “She must he a gal whoso eyes beam with love, tenderness and pity; twinkle with fun, frolic and mischief: and lighten up the flash with the immortal part of its fi arl tene ment; whose countenance is illuminated by virgin innocence and purity, chastened by humility, and. happy, from the practice of homely virtue, with a heart to feel, a hand to relieve and a bosom to sympathize with misfortune; one who can mend breeches, make shirts, scrub floors, peel taters, cook dinner.” The Picayune says: Had he been a yankce he would probably have appended to the list of qualifications something like the following: one that can ride horse to plough, attend to the garden, feed the pigs, drive home the cows, and oc casionally lick the schoolmaster! Pass it Round. —“ Ind ignantly frown upon the first dawning of every attempt to alien iateany portion of ourcountry from the rest,” was the sage advice of Washington. Pass round the sentiment, and with it blessings upon the memory of its author. Bathing. —lt is said that John Quincy Adams washes his entire body every morn ing when lie rises, both summer and winter. This practice he has observed four years, and is no doubt, one tiling that gives the old gentleman that degree of health and ac tivity for which he stands jite-eminent for one of his age. Revivals. —Religion is making rapid strides in Middle Florida; and its humaniz ing influences are anxiously awaited in that heretofore pugnacious and violent country. There was an ample field for improvement —broad enough to take in all the charities of life; and though the improvement lias como even at tlio “ eleventh hour,” yet there is hope for the sinners. Wo shall be very happy, after all has been gathered there into the paths of virtue, love to God and man, that influences may travel hitherward. Our goodly city is white to the harvest, and only awaits the sickle for the collecting of the sheaves. — St. Augustine News. Ninety Bits since last Wednesday. —Said a Washingtonian in St. Louis, on Tuesday, “Jliave saved just ninety hits since last Wednesday.” Said another gentleman, “ I have saved just one dollar a day.” Said a third, “ I have saved ten dollars a week : I have earned twelve, and for a year past have spent ten of it a week for liquor.” How many comforts have already been brought to the families of these men since they have withheld their earnings from “ the tormen tors.” MEHsoollllstfmy* PUBLISHED EVERY SATUBDAY MORNING AT TIIE VERY LOW PRICE OF TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS PER ANNUM ONE DOL LAR AND FIFTY CENTS FOR SIX MONTHS— IN ADVANCE. MADISON, GEO l galurday, Fu!y IG, 1819. OUR AGENTS. Mk. Richard O. Echols ha* teen employed at • Travelling Agent for the ‘‘Southern Miscellany.” He is fully authorized to solicit subscribers, advertisements and job work, and to receipt for moneys due this office. Mr. Echols will visit many portions of Georgia and Alabama in the course of die present summer, and wo hope all those who feel any interest in our enterprise will render him such assistance as muy he best calcu lated to materially increase our subscription list. Mr. W. XV. Hughey, of Griffin, is also auihorized to solicit, and receipt for, subscriptions to the Miscellany. Mr. S A. Holmes, General Newspaper Agent, is our authorized Agent for the City of Augusta. TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. We hove received, within the past week, quite a num ber of original communications which we have not had time to examine attentively; we hepe, therefore, our correspondents— to whom we acknowledge our self under many obligations—will bear patiently thu unavoidable delay in the appearance of their articles. It is our anxious desire to treat them all with the ut most respect. “THE MAGNOLIA.” We were unable to get our notice of this magazine ready in time for this number of the “ Miscellany.” We design giving a short history of the work since its com mencement, and a cursory review of its con tents. We are daily expecting the July number, and, if received in time, will no tice both numbers in our next. TIIE NEWSPAPER PRESS. There are few means by which the mind and morals of society are more powerfully affected than by the weekly journals which are so abundantly and widely scattered thro’ our country. There is a responsibility rest ing upon the coi.ductorof a public print, of too serious and sacred a character, to be disregarded by himself, or the community in whose eye he holds so prominent a place. And a man whose soul is alive to the dic tates of conscience, or who is sensible of his accountability to his fL'llow-men for the in fluence, whether more or less, which he is to exert upon the world—for the manner in which he acts his part among the players upon the world’s stage —cannot enter upon the duties of such a calling without much misgiving. There is something in the form which is given to ideas by the printer’s type, and sent forth in his weekly sheet, which, in the estimation of the reader, gives force to their expression, and adds importance to their meaning. Thoughts which might be thrown off among friends, in a social hour, and pass forever from recollection, are pre sented in characters which meet the eye, and thus affect the mind and heart. Why it is that this visible form in which thought is embodied, should impart to it such addition al consequence; philosophy might perhaps be puzzled to determine. Rut so it is. And when a paragraph or essay has been pre pared with due care and caution; bearing the stamp of mind fitted to instruct and improve, it is read with an attention and leaves an impression, which, perhaps, is more salutary and abiding, than if the same sentiments had been received from any other source. Every sentence, whether it be de signed to impart information to the reader, and add to the common stock of practical knowledge, or by its moral tendency, to improve the heart, and elevate the tone of public morals; tells upon the interest of society. There are thousands, especially in this country, whose reading is almost entiie ly confined to their newspapers, and many read nothing else—not even the Almanack or Bible. Some—“pity’tis, ’tis true” — do pend exclusively, for their intellectual and moral improvement, upon a paper devoted to their political party. And we take occa sion here to say, that whoever permits his conduct to be governed by the standard of morality adopted by many of our party edi tors, or depends upon the lights which they hold out before him, for a correct knowledge of the political condition of the country, will soon find himself destitute of moral sensi bility, and little better acquainted with the true principles of his government, than a wanderer in the lubyrinths of Egypt would, with his relation to the four points of the compass. Os any man whose only source of information upon measures of public pol icy, or questions of casuistry, is a newspa per of the character of some which disgrace the press of the United States, we say em phatically, God help him! The influence of the press is silent but powerful; its effects upon society are plain ly seen and realized, but seldom traced to their proper cause. The morals of a peo ple might be destroyed, and their govern-