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THE WASHINGTON GAZETTE, VOLUME I. JFHE WASHINGTON GAZETTE. BY JAB. A. WRIGHT, AGENT. Tcavs—Three Dollars a year, iu advance. LAM ARTIN E--B YRON-LEG ARE. It is announced that Lamartine, for a very large sum—accounts differ as to the amount—has engaged as to write the life of Byron". To exaggeration, false sentiment and ro mance, Lamartine will give foil rein in this biography. Not one of his romances, are venture to say, will contain more ro mance. Upon the simplest fact be will hang a garland of artificial sentiment, exotic and forced, but so perfumed and presented a9 almost lo soem natural. Byron’s defor mity will be made a beauty, and we shall be told over again, even in more exagge rated phrase than we hare yet beeu told, that in his limp he resembled ‘an angel who had tripped against a star.’ Sportive fancy will be at its wildest tricks in telling of the playfulness of the Lord of Poets, and the gloom of a morbid imagination will darken into fitful changes of the storm in dwelling‘on his waywardness and domes tic misery. "We suspect that Lamartine will find more fault with Lady Byron than ever Byron himself found. In short, we have no idea that Lamartine is at all a (it person to give the world a true biographi cal presentment of Byroa. The glorious role which,Ciamartine ex hibited in bis oratorical displays in French .Revolution is the great scene in his life. Even that was melo-dramatic. It suited the French people. But Lamartine's shame less indebtedness—his shiftless and reckless expenditures—his bold and brazen begga ry, which over and over again has obtain ed him means to live like ft- prodigal, who only leaves the ‘corn husks’ to get means ,to wallow in a falter sty —without any les sons of repentancce or regret, even when importunity and shamelessly renewed peti tions of indulgence cannot keep him from the ‘com busks’ again. Strange that a man so brilliantly endowed as Lamartine is should resort to a beggar’s repeated impor tunities. But he seems to be of opinio n, according to the phrase so common at tiie East, that the world owes him a living—a princely one, by the by—is bis estimate, and he acts accordingly. No good life of Byron has yet been written. It should be written with a keen, incisive pen, which shouMnot only tell the truth, but engrave its moral in the page as if in marble—distinct, impressive, clear. Moore’s life of Byron is too full of orien talism. To use one of Byron's phrases, be bat an oriental ‘twist in his imagination’— tropes and figures, and especially pet sim ilies dance in metaphorical mazes through his imagination like a wanton troupe iu his own loves of the angels. What Moore Bays gives us no idea of Byron. ’Tis the wealth of Byron’s letters, which Moore has spread so abundantly—like a vein of gold —through his pages which unfold to us the true clue to Byron’s character. Moore’s comments upon them are but mysteries and metaphysics which darken rather than elucidate the commonest facts which he is trying to explain. In the whole range of Eoglish literature and criticism of English origin, the best criticism and analysis of Byron’s character and poems is that of Ma caulay, in the Edinburg Review, on Moore's life of Byron. But in our humble estima tion, the best analysis of the personal character of Byron, by any critic of tbe .old or new world, ia. that written by our countryman, that trne Southron, Hugh S. Legare, which appeared years ago io the Southern Review. Legare himself had physical imperfec tions which made him sympathize with By rou—to say nothiog of bis excessive sen sitiveness which made it a torture to him in his wayward moods, to be even looked at. This gave him the key to Byron’s emotions—thetfiash of lightning io a dark night which betrays at once to the beholder flower and tree and broken branch, and turbid and swollen and rushing water. It is interesting to one fond of tbe dissection of character to read this criticism of Le gare on ByroD. We, as South Carolin ians, have always been proud of it as we were of tbe varied, gifted and classic hand hat wore it—cold in the dust before tbe WASHINGTON, WILKES COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY MORNING, MAY 18, 1866, great calamity fell upon his people which finds us penning this mention of his mem ory amidst the ruins of tho by tbe Sea which he so loved. If we were asked by a foreigner to point out specimens of American literature— classical, critical, legal and oratorical—we believe we should point him to Legare’s works, published after his death, to which we have referred. They speak for themselves. But the or atory of Legare! All who heard him can speak of it; but. who enn truly convey a faithful image of it to tbe reader who never heard him t In these volumes we have some specimens of his legal arguments aed orations—and there are homesteads* in South Carolina where Sherman’s vandal torch did not reach nor his barbaric hordes enter, where they are preserved and held in reverence, familiar as household words and precious as household gold—which present tbe specimens of those utterances which the living orator used to clothe in ‘‘Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.” * But, alas ! “ Tis Greece, but living Greece no more and we look in vain among tho crowd of living men for a single man who approach ed him in orntorioal power. We remember with pride and sorrow how he stood on tho steps of Reverdy Johnson’s splendid mansion in Monument square, in the Harrison contest for the Presidency, and to a crowd that filled the whole space, held forth on tho glories of republics and especially his own. Ilia bold tones, like shot and shell, seemed to dash against tbe houses opposite, while tbe vast multitude listened as one man, until at some mighty period ( of consummate elo quence they broke forth with shouts that echoed far and wide oyer the Monumental City- . \¥ji could. *eo the waying of the handkerchiefs of the beautiful women .of that city of beauty by the flickering torch lights—homage which Legare loved so much—as what Southerner does not ? and then he would commence again and roll on like tbe dash of Niagara in a deep er and stronger current of overwhelming eloquence. There stood Clay, there stood Webster, there stood,Corwin, there stood Reverdy Johnson—now Maryland’s true and great Senator—there stood our own Preston listening like the wrapt multitude. llow proud wo felt of South Carolina! We remember tbe ptessure of Preston’s generous band, and his proud as he said to us, “Tho best of them can’t beat him.” Shall those days ever come again ? We hope they will. We believe they will. What Calhoun, Preston, McDuffie and Legare have said shall keep the prestige of South Carolina green in our souls. The City by is sitting like Job in asbes, and like him may haips false friends who would makedier renounce her alle giance to eternal justice. But to her du ties she will be true as herself. And soon shall hers be the experience of the old Pa triarch. “And tho Lord turned the captivity of Job when he prayed for bis friends; also tbe Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before. There came there unto him all his brethren, and all his sisters, and all they that had been of bis acquaintance be fore, and did eat bread with him in his house; and they bemoaned him, and com forted him over all tbe evil that tbe Lord had brought upon bim ; every man also gave him a piece of money, and every one an earring of gold. “So the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than the begionig. * * * lie had also seven sonß and three daugh ters. * * And in all the land were no woman are found eo fair as daughters of Job.” Carolinian. An auctioneer was much anuoyed by the low bids of one of his customers, and offered five dollars (o any one who would put him out. A large,_ ferocious looking individual approaebed tbe unfortunate offender and in a whisper loud enough to be. beard all over tbe room, thus addressed him: “My friend, you go out with mo and I will give you half tho moue !’ From the Jiie/iinonJ Examiner. HOLLYWOOD CEMETRY--OUR DEAD HEROES—A DUTY WE OWE.i Any one who’ walks near the hallowed grounds allotted to our Confederate dead will feel the pathos and soul-subduing elo quence that speaks in tbe silence, the drea riness, the decay and neglect that have seized the sacred localities for their own, and are fast, bearing them to melancholy oblivion. The places that knew them will soon know them no more forever, unless an aftection assumes the gracious office of of conservator of the touching memorials of the patriots who exhausted themselves in the comipon effort, and at last fell, far from home and kindred, to unworthy sep ulchres. When one tbiuks of tho trials of these gallant men—how they underwent all privation and suffering, and how at length they dared and accepted death—it is a most affecting spectacle to look upon the sunken tombs, tbe rotting headboards, that will soon cease to individualize their names, their deeds and characters, and will leave these heroes of a good fight and an early gravo to an indiscriminate and piti less forgetfulness. It is not supposed that any of them were alone iu this world, with none to think of them or care for them. Tho father had all tho connections of a family to mourn his untimely lute; the hus band lies far from tho wife that would have died for him ; the sou lias left a mother that weeps for him and will not be com forted; and the band of gentle sistors whose soft lingers would have smoothed tho con tracted brow that warmed with a thought of home, and then grew cold forevor. But solitary let him be, without kith or kin— “His is his country’s now anil fame’s; One of the tew immortal names That were not bora to die!” In Hollywood Cemetry twenty thousand bodies of the dear and devoted crumble to undistinguished dust; while near by, tbe Federal dead aro retnembewd and cared for by national respaot or . pritrato 0 countrymon!—O countrywomen ! what a mortifying contrast! We are poor iu pur6o; the whole country is in indigent circumstances, but our property of heart is beyond all estimate if we are not ready to do our duty to the mouldering remains of our martyred patriots. It is not alone in Hollywood that our dead lie unchcrished and unregarded. Thousands lie In Oak wood and other cemeteries subject to the remorseless touch of Time’s effacing fin gers. Is thore no kindly memory of these men ? Will tbe people of the city of Richmond let those who died in her de fense pass from remembrance, like tbe beasts of the field that perish and are no more? Never! If the heart of man can forget, the heart of woman is incapable of ingratitude. Wo know that we have on ly to pdint the ladies to the scenes that ask their care to insure their ceaseless ex ertion in a noble Enterprise. We propose that they immediately organize into a so ciety, or into several co-operative societies, whose object shall bo the preservation of every existing memorial of the lamen ted brave, —the faithful who fell at their posts, and were hurried into shallow and ill-keptgraves. Many of the tombs are without a mark to tell of those whom they inclose, but others have names and descrip tions that should stand for tbe guidance of the search that affection will institute, wheu prosperity has restored the now lacking means. Let all the heaps be rounded and turfed, and where tbe name cannot be re covered, let a neat and simple board evi dence that “ A Hero' lies there unknown, but still mourned and‘honored none tbe less. It is a small tribute to those who risked all and lost all in the common cause. If we are impoverished, the mites that we are able to contribute will effect the pur that all should be eager to aid. When wealth ba3 been regained, we will contract monuments worthy of us and of those whose memory we seek to perpetuate. We trust that the ladies will soon have committees traversing tbe length and breath of tbe city, soliciting subscriptions to this cause. We know that no Southern men or women will withhold their money in so holy an undertaking, and when wo see that we have been anticipated in other parts of the South, by similar movements, our efforts should be stimulated and quick ened by a virtuous emulation. Winches ter and Staunton have already done much, and Gordonsville (eovironedby tho glorious dead) has begun the laudable work. Rich-' mond should be no laggard in this. .On every field of strife bersons have fallen, and !hc should treat those who lie near with a maternal tenderness: “Their bodies are dust; Their good swords are rest. And their soule are with the jiainta, we trust I' 1 OUR DEAD. JY COT. A. M. HOBttr. “My house shall he called of all natiqQs the house of prayer; but ye hare made it a den of thieves.” “Beware of fiftso prophets which! come to you io sheep's clothiug; but iuwardjy are ravening wolves.'’ Our readers will thankee author of the following noble lines for their beautiful and affecting defence of tho heroic and immor tal dead of the South. They am the more appropriate, as coming from one who gain ed for himself a high reputation as a sol dier, under circumstances which make that fame the equivalent of more even than it generally implies. —Galveston WrtM. "It was the worst, work that Satan and ain over undertook iu this y/orld; and they that suffered in it were not martyrs in a good cause, but convicts in a bad one. Who shall comfort them that sit by dishonored gravest” —Sermon of IJenry Ward Seeker. Vile, brutal man! and darest thou In God’s anointed place to preach— With impious tongue and brazen brow— The lessons Hell would blpsti to teach ? The cruel taunt thy lips hath hisscu Beneath Religion’s holy sereen. Is false—as false Iscariot’s kiss; Js fa)se—as thou art vile and mean. Are these the lessons which lie taught I And is His mission hero iu vain ? Fence and good will seem words of naught— Hell rules the earth with hate aguiu f And thou 1 its chosen instrument, Hyenr-liko, with heartless tread, Hast dared invade, with blood-houml scout, d’lie scored precincts of tho dead. Not such from those, deep oli) Squill, Who meet thee in.thine hour of might 1 But from the coarse, polluted mouth Os coward euro who feared fight ! Deal* loved old Sarittt! contemn Itlc- enrso That those win) hate shall iieap on you; You’vo wept behind War's bloody hoarse, That bore away your brave and true ! Their precious blood, though yainly shed—- Long as thy shore old Occean laves— We’ll bow with rcyerenco o’er our dead, And Ibless tho turf that wraps their gravos. From Mexico to Maryland, Those graves pre strewn like Autumn leaves— What though no Mother's tender hand Upon their tomb a chaplet weaves, Nor Wives nor Sisters bend above • The Honored Soldiers’ unmarked mound— They are objects of eternal Iqye Iu consecrated Southern ground. It recks not where their bodies lie— By bloody hill-side, plain or river— Their names are bright on Fanis's proud slfy. Their deeds of valor liye forever ; The song-birds of the South shall sing From forest grand, and flowery atem And gentlest waters murmuring, Unite to hymn their requiem. And Spring will fleck their hallowed bed With types of resurrection’s day; And silent tears the Night hath shei) The Morning's beam will kiss away. Those heroes reef, in solemn fame On every field where Freemen bled ; And shall we let the touch of shame Fall iijtc a blight upon opr dead 1 No—wretch! we scorn thy hatred now, And hiss thy shame fronq pole to pole, The brutes are better far than tbqu, And Hell would blush to own thy souL “Dishonored graves I take back the lie That’s breathed by more than humble bate. Lest, Annanios like, you die, Not less deserving of his fate, @ur Spartan women how io dust, Around their country’s broken shrine; True—ae their cause was right and just Pure—as their deeds have beeu divine ; Their Angels hands—the wounded cheered 1 — Did all that woman ever dayes— When wealth and homes bad disappoayed, They gave us tears, and smiles, and prayers. They proudly gave their jewels up— For all they loved—as worthless toys; Drank to the dregs Want’s bitter cup To feed opr sick and starving boys. 'pheir glorious flag on high no more Is borne by that unconquered band; Tis fiirled upon the “silent shore”— Its heroes still apound it stand, No more beneath its folds shall meet The armies of immortal LEE; The rolling of their hrums’ last beat I» echoing iu eternity I Galveston, Texas, Jan, 1806. NUMBER i An Energetic Max.— JCh'e Bible pre cept, “\yhatever thy hfmd findeth to do it with thy plight, ’ in tho key-note of tbe inarch of progress. Bernard Pallimy, the French potter, to whom we owe the discovery of enamel, believed in and noted upon it. For many years—upward* ,pf twenty—he experimented, regardless of poverty and reproach, op the substance* from nhieh he e*pectqd to derive the cov eted article. He turned hjs tables, chair* and floors in hisjfurnflces as fuel. Sicknee* smote hia family, and ajl his children, tip in number, died. Still he perse,vereij- Hi* neighbors declared tb*t ‘.‘if, w** fit the old fool should die of wpnLqince he had ken his trade to rqn after a chitu.ftra.’ spt Pallissy continued t<? ply jhi* furnace, where be sweated tifl ,the garters slid frorp his attenuated legs, J. n a few simple and pathetic sentences he described his own for lorn and persecuted condition; tyy credit was taken away from me and J. was regar ded as a madman. Under,these scandals f. pined pway and stepped yrjth bowed head through the Btreets like a map put to sfiatne. Men said, ‘ft is right for him to die ft f hun ger, seeing lie left off following his trad*/ But when I had dw«lt with my regret* a little I said to my soul, ‘therefore art thou saddened ? Labor noy and the de-r fiuners will live to be ashamed.’ The *pir it of tho man was as indoiiiitpbje as thaf of Columbus. Who shall say that be b*d not premonitions of triumph from above —for energy finds favor with Him who hf* said, “Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.’ Pallissy at laat saw his long years of determined toil crowned with complete success, and hia defunct* as hamed. It seemed perhaps to tbe goetip* of his neighborhood that the game, eo far as be was concerned, was not worth the candle. But could their vulgar minds judge of that) The hour ia whioh a great man discovers that tlie grand obicot of his life has been achieved, i* worth &* whole iponototioua place tfriyeller. But for its the world would stand still. Every branoi{i of human knowledge has its martys aa welf as religion, and if the weaker sort cannot follow their example, they should at least have the grace to orown them. How to Make Money. —po you oonf plain that you have nothing to begin with? “Tom," yqp sny, “ha* a farip, and Harry has one thousand <f°|J a r ( ’ hut f have noth ing.” \y o say to yoq look at your hand*, and tell us what they are worth. Would you take one thousand dollars for them, op for the use of them through life? Ifyoq can make half a dolltff a day with them, it would no be a bad bargain, for tftaf sum is tire interest of mofe than (wo thousand dollars; so that if yqq are industrious and Harry is lazy, you are more than twice aa rich as he, and whet) you esq do a man'* work and make a dollar a day, yoq are four times as rich, and are fairly worth four thousand dollars. Money and land, therefore, is not the only capital with which a young man cau begin in tb* world jf he has good health and js indus trious. Even the poorest boy ip our coun try has something to tread upon, and if hp be vpell educated apd have fikjll in any kind of work, add tp this mqral jiabits st>d roligiops principle*, so that bi* employer may trust him and place confidence in bra* be may then be paid to set opt in life with a good chance to bepoipe independent and respectable, and perhaps rich, as any man in the country. Let it be reip*pib*n4 that “pyery man is tbe maken of,hit owp fortune.” All depends oupon spiting out qpon the right pripscipl**, and they arc these: J. Be indpatrious; time and sjtill are yoqf capital. 2; Be saving; whatever jt bpjteep with* in your income, i 3. Be prudent; buy not prhpj yop can do without. 4. Be resolute; let pour ecoppmy be al ways to-day, and not of to-morrow. 5. Be contented and thankful; a cheer ful spirit makes labor light, and sleep aweet, and all around happy—all of which it much better than only being rich. The name of a man in Vermont whq feeds his geese on iron filing*, and gather* Steel pens from their wing*, ia Sharp.