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Jin lllustratcir tlUckln Journal of 33cllcs-f cttrcs, Science anb tljc Jlrts. WM. €. RICHARDS* EDITOR. Cljoice ilotners of socsri. For the Southern Literary Gazette. THE RING OF BETROTHAL. li Y M R -S . J aS E V II C . N’ F. A L . “ Bless tbee (laughter ! bless thee !” Thus a matron said, With her hand laid fondly On the fair girl’s*head. “ Nay my>child, no blushes — Thou hast rightly done, And thou well deservest All thy truth hath won. For I guess the secret Thou canst scarcely tell, — Know that he who woos thee, Long has loved thee well. Know he now would win thee For hi- bride —his wife, .Placing in thy keeping All his hope of life. Gleaming in its set ting Os the purest gold, On thy hand, the diamond Its low tale hath told. Os thy faith the ‘emblem Pure, and free from stain, Daughter, I would charge thee Let it thus remain ! • Now thy love is fearless! Now thy heart beats high ; And a proud devotion * Beameth from thine eye ! But as years roll onward, Care and change will come, For some shadow resteth O’er the brightest home. As the diamond paletli In the glare.of day, And in deepest darkness Flashes forth its ray,— So thy love should brighten As thy sorrpws rise. Guiding him who loves thee Till the shadow flies. If Distrust should whisper, Turn thy heart away ; It’ than e’er otfendest, • For forgiveness pray. So shall thine affection Like the gem endure, Free from all corroding, liver bright and pure. F'nladelphia. For the Southern Literary Gazette. SABBATH MORNING. K Y RPs'ILON. 1 low sweet to me the chime < If Sabbath bells —whose music tells Os rest from toil, and earth’s turmoil. The boon, of holy Time ! 1 drink the blessed air, That seems to be as pure and free, As that which played in Eden’s shade — lire Sin had tresspassed there. No sound disturbs the calm, But voice of birds and lowing herds, That to my heart doth peace impart— And to its woes a balm. I drive the world away, f bid its gains—its joys and pains Disturb me not; and these forgot, Welcome the Sabbath day ! Oh, God ! vouchsafe, 1 pray, ( pon ray head, thy love t<> shed, ’ And to my heart thy grace impart. That joy may crown this day ! And when the Sabbath chime Ceases on earth, may anew birth. My sold prepare, to breathe the air Os Heaven’s pure Sabbath clime ! EPITAPH. FOB A DECEASED POETASTER. Here lies a bard whose wretched verses ran 1 o dark oblivion faster than the man ; But Death took pity on his hapless lot, Ami now, both rhymes and author are forgot. Original Sketches of ®rarel. ALL ABOuf: With Pen an il Pencil. BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS.’ THE STARTING. “ This is a great country!” exclaimed my übiquitous friend A***, as 1 once ran against him in the most crowded thoroughfare of the metropolis of New England. “ This is a great country!” was again his salutation, when I unexpectedly discovered his waggish phiz up on the shoulders of my vis a vis . at the table d’ hote of the St. Charles. “This is a great country!’ was whispered in my ear not long after, while litting on a pair of kids at “ Stew art’s:” and looking round, there stood my “ poor Yorick.” intent upon a pair of “ eight and a halfs.” “ A great country!” reached me in a sad voice from the lips of a fellow gazer, in Cincinnati, upon the dying agonies of a fat porker, and turning round, I once more pressed the hand of my friend. “A great country!” cried a voice at my elbow, as my foot slipped while traversing the narrow cause way to “Termination Rock,” at Niagara, and a familiar arm rescued me from a bath in the mighty cauldron. “ This is a great country!” arrested my attention, as 1 caught my old friend’s eye on turning from the card table in a Mississippi steam-boat, where I had wit nessed thousands lost and won by fool and knave. “This is a great country!” said a gentleman, tapping me on the shoulder, and extending his arm towards the mighty hills which environ the nobl% Hudson, and upon which I had been long gazing from the deck of our magnificent river palaces. “ This is a great country!” said the same gentleman, by way both of salutation and apology, when he once extended his arm over my head and qui etly took possession of a beautiful chip which 1 had just succeeded in dissevering from one of the gigantic stalactites of the “ Mammoth Cave ”of Kentucky. “ This is a great coun try was the burthen of a greeting, which, in a few minutes after it was uttered. 1 re ceived from him last New Year's Day by the telegraph from Buffalo. “ This is a great coun try !” will probably mingle with the roar of waves, when it shall be my happiness to look upon the setting sun from the shores of the Pa cific ; for, go where I will, my cosmopolitan friend is sure to be near, and never has he other greeting than his favorite exclamation, which is more the expression of the profound impress that the mighty scenes, continually changing beneath his gaze, have left upon his mind than the suggestion of an eccentric fancy. And, surely, every one who has been a rover like him with heart to feel, and intellect to un derstand like his. must mentally echo and re echo his enthusiastic chorus. Our mighty rocks throw hack the song, the hurricane thun ders it forth upon our lofty mountains, the* breezes lisp it in our beautiful rallies, and the roar of our great waters forever swells the an them. But well as this term “great” may be ap- ATHENS* GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1848. plied to every feature of our land, to none does it better belong than to its wonderful and mighty exhibitions of natural beauty. Dis pute who will our claims to greatness in all other things, here cavil is dumb. God himself has written his name upon his works and all must humbly confess the master-band. It is the impression left upon my mind by this feature of our country's greatness, which I propose irr the following pages to record, — and if the reader follows me with hut a tithe of the interest with which I shall again ga/.e upon the great lakes of the North, the far spreading praries of the West, and the broad savannas of the South, I shall not have re curred to my sketch-book and diary in vain. My purpose is to ramble hither and thither as fancy listeth—now flying over wide areas of Rail-road, more quickly than the power of steam even will bear me. to linger long in the. quiet valley or by the gentle brook. I shrill gaze from the mountain-top upon the gorge ous panorama beneath, while 1 leave it to the eographer to expatiate upon my precise eleva m above the level of the sea. I shall ad ire the moss-grown rock or the jagged peak, , hile the geologist assigns it a place in the learned family of granite, slate, lime-stone or iraj). I shall laugh with the falling waters, while others use them to turn their mills. I shall record an historic legend, a local tale, or an idle adventure, instead of speculating on the capabilities of the locale for the great util itarian purposes of life. In short, kind read er, I shall treat everything and la pittojesque , and endeavor to be as pleasant a companion and gossip as possible, to the end that we may finish, as we begin, our journey together. With this, my comprehensive map of our proposed rambles I shall now bear you off with me by the “ tirst boatbut to what precise latitude, tfyere is no telling—nntil our next chapter. £cgcnbs of tljc liefr itlcn. •> For the Southern Literary Gazette. THE SHOOTING METEORS. BY CHARI.ES LAN MA N . Among the Indians who live upon the north eastern shore of Lake Huron, it is believed that the heavens contain only four meteors which have the power of shooting through the sky. It is thought they severally occupy the four quarters of the compass, and that they never perform their arrowy journey excepting for the purpose of warning the Huron Indians of approaching war. The meteors in ques tion, or Pun gun-nung, are recognised by their peculiar brilliancy, and universally consider ed the Manitoes or guardian spirits of the en tire Indian race. They came into existence at the same period of time which witness ed the creation of Lake Huron itself; and the legend which accounts for their origin is distinguished for the wild and rofnantic fan cies of the aborigines. It was the winter time, and an Indian with his wife and two children, a daughter and a son, were living in a wigwam on a bleak pe ninsula of the great Lake. The game of that section of country had nearly all disappeared, aqd the fish were spending the season in such deep water, that it was quite impossible to se cure any of them for food. Everything seem ed to go wrong with the poverty-stricken In dian. and he was constantly troubled with the fear that the Master of Life intended to anni hilate his family and himself by starvation. He expressed his anxiety to his wife, and was surprised to hear her answer him with a song. Nearly half a moon had passed away, and VOLUME I.—NUMBER 1; the sufferings of this unfortunate family were melancholy in the extreme. Whole days did the lather spend roaming through the forests, with his bow and arrows, and on four sever al evenings had he returned without even a pair of tiny snow-birds for a supper. The ill luck which attended him in his expeditions made him Very, miserable, but he was fre quently astonished and alarmed, on such oc casions, by the conduct of his wife and chil dren. When he gave them an account of his ill-luck in obtaining game, instead of mani festing any anxiety, they usually ran about the wigwam with their fingers on their mouths, and uttering a singular moan ; hut he noticed with fear that they were becoming greatly emaciated for the want of food. So deeply grieved was the poor man, that lie almost re solved to bury himself in the snow and die ; hut he made a better resolution and again went oiit to hunt. On one occasion he had wandered into the woods to an unusual distance, and, as fortune would have it, was successful in finding and shooting a single rabbit. With the speed of a deer •did he return to his cabin, (with his braided shoes over the crusted snow,) hut he now met with anew disappointment. On en tering his lodge he found the fire entirely out, and the simple utensils for cooking all scat tered about in great confusion, hut what was far more melancholy, his wife and children were gone, and he knew not where to find them. The more he thought upon what had happened for many days past, the more be wildered did he become. He threw down his game almost in despair, and hurried out of his cabin in search of his missing family. He looked in every rV-rectiob, hut could see no signs of their appearing, and the only noise that he could possibly hear was a singular and most doleful moan, resembling the wail of a loon, which seemed to come from the up per air. By a natural instinct lie raised his eyes towards the heavens, and beheld perch ed upon the dry limb of a tall tree which stood a short distance off all the members of his family. He shouted with delight at the un expected spectacle, and, rushing towards the tree, told his wife and children that they must come down, for he had killed a rabbit and they would now have a good feast. But again was he astonished to find his words unheed ed ! Again did he beseech them to come down, hut they replied not a single word and looked upon him with eyes that seemed made of fire. And what was still more wonderful it was ev ident that they had thrown aside their beav er and deer-skin dresses, and were now deck ed out in newly fashioned robes made of the fur of the white fisher and the white fox. All this Was utterly inexplicable, and the poor husband re-entered iiis lodge, bewildered and perplexed to a marvelous degree. Then it was that the idea entered his head that he would try an experiment, by appeal ing to the hunger of his obstinate wife and children. He therefore cleaned the rabbit and boiled a sweet soup which he carried out, and with which he endeavored to allure nis friends to the earth. But this attempt was all in vain. The mother and her children expressed no de sire for the food, and still remained upon the tree, swaying to and fro like a flock of latgo birds. Again in his wretchedness was he about to destroy himself, hut he took the precaution to appropriate the soup to its le gitimate purpose. Soon as this business was accomplished, he relapsed into his for mer state of melancholy, from which he was suddenly aroused by the moans of his wife.which he was sure had an articulate tone. Again was he riveted to his standing place un der the magic tree, and from the moaning of