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him his abbacy. “ A sense of past benefits alone,” said the speaker, “to say nothing of what may follow hereafter, should make you incline to the application of your nephew.— He has already won honor for his name, is in high favor with the king and my lord of Lig ny, and will you, for a matter of two hun dred crowns, endanger his future prospects, which may be worth to you ten thousand.” A hint adroitly administered, that his nig gardliness toward his nephew*, with whom every body else was pleased, would be very apt to provoke the disgust of the king and all the courtiers, concluded the discussion, which had taken place in the garden. Sore, but consenting, the penurious abbot led the way to the dwelling, and opening a window*, he drew* from it a little purse, which he put into the hands of Bellabre. “ Here,” said he, with a biting sarcasm, “are an hundred crowns, which 1 put into your charge, that you may buy two horses for this valiant man-at-arms, seeing that he is himself quite too young to handle money. 1 shall write to Laurencin to furnish him with the necessary habiliments.” The good abbot never fancied that these ha biliments would cost more than a hundred francs* but as the order was unlimited, Bel labre assumed the privilege of judgi4* for his young friend what should be the proper ex tent of the expenditure. Possessed of the purse and order, they took their leave with many expressions of gratitude, to which the abbot • seems to have listened with indiffer ence, Once out of his sight, Bellabre con veyed to his companion a portion of that pe culiar moral philosophy which, in those days, did no discredit to the soldier. “You must know, comrade, that when God bestows good fortune upon men, as he has done this day upon you, they should do wrong not to profit by his bounty: the bread is holy which w*e rob from the priesthood. Here, now*, is the order to Laurencin —let us use it quickly, ere the abbot reconsiders. When he remembers that he hath set no limits to his bounty in this order, he will amend it. Let us use it quick ly to procure all your accoutrements, not sim ply for the tourney, hut for the year to come. You will get nothing farther from his hands.” Bayard laughed at the philosophy of his friend- the propriety of which he had no rea son to doubt. The age, in which religion was quite too frequently employed as the. cloak for crime and idleness, did not visit, with much severity, offences of this sort against a luxurious priesthood. The advice of Bellabre was adopted. Laurencin was waited upon the moment that they reach ed Lyons; the order w*as promptly honored by the merchant, to w*hom Bellabre told a story highly creditable to the abbot; whom li ‘ ted with the hom he had • :>i Yum idredcrowns, Laurencin was u sman placed . o. He para his rich vcl v. . , c: •>>. ii< ■ i■ l l n gorgeous silks, ;e was even the young knight - va- ‘ -m :! •<! stint himself, by the 4ii-vv. .1 oir. j :,!non ; 1 s s.iie. He took what wo m e -;i r w\ <. and what was at fu.; ’ hi ; ( .i dt? ■ Jailors were soon put r -J. v t coiiv a his goods into hero ving garments. scover the ex cel ! (>c i he e.st Boasting at dinner of hi i 1 *nc r My, he to! 1 what he had f tl abbey applauded tli( int, e ire-ring (lou!<t, however, wheth er ‘ “ e Jtr hoi wisely in not limit -1 “I fear,” said ia -ihat oin nep “W* ,v* H t ike more than y< i r’e, end, instead -t • hundred crowns, vo thousand."— flj alarmed, and des tcin. was con ?<>::! e 1 irn and the < unt of Bayard’s pu 1 *. j v v 1 handled francs instead e t i ■- and: ■ Ln.'t .undred francs! .St. Mary!” exclaimed the reverend father, as he received this intelligence. “Make haste to his lodgings,” he cried to his steward, “and say to him that if he does not instantly restore to Laurencin what he hath taken, lie shall never be the better by another franc of mine.” But our friends had anticipated this mis sion. and the servants were instructed that none of the people of the Lord of Esnay were to find their way to the presence of their master. The pages amused themselves, ac cordingly, at the expense of the messenger. When the steward asked for him in his own lodgings, he was reported to be at those of the Count de Ligny. There, he is told that Bayard has gone forth beyond the Rhone to try his horses; and thus, until he was wea ry. the steward was kept passing to and fro between the angry abbot, his master, and the sfDHJM&M a, air ® mbit ins* household of the offending nephew. Very solemn then was the oath of the former that the boy should repent of his wickedness.— The crime of defrauding the church of its revenues might well, by an abbot, be held as an unpardonable one. He did not pardon the offence, and not .mother copper of his money found its way to the purse of the of fender. Bayard shared his livres equally with Bel labre. Their friendship hitherto had been such that they partook without scruple of each other’s goods. Two horses were bought between them for the tourney, the day as signed for which was rapidly approaching. An interval of three days was busily employ ed in preparations—in going through the hahds of the tailor, in choosing and fitting ar mor, and decorating, in the customary style of the times, the persons of horse and rider.— The tourney took place on Monday, the ‘2oth July, 1494. The public and private prepara tions were such as to draw together numer ous spectators. The lists were duly set in order. Place was assigned to the king and courtiers, the noblesse, and the citizens, and the ladies of Lyons made no inferior part of the imposing spectacle. The knight, Claude de Vaudray, the challenger, was the first per son to make his appearance in the field. He was encountered, in order, as the names of the champions had been enrolled, by many gallant gentlemen of the court and of the roy al army. There were the Seneschal Galiot — who proved himself an expert cavalier, —the young Bonnival, Sandricourt, Chastillon, Bourilillon, all intimates of the king, and ma ny others, all doing their best, and all more or less creditably. To stimulate the spirit of the combatants, one of the rules of the tour ney was, that each champion, after he had run his course, should be conducted round the lists, that he might receive the plaudits of the spectators. Such a proceeding would naturally prompt the ambition of the cavalier to the utmost exertion of his powers. The time at length came for Bayard to make his appearance in the lists. He was at this time not yet eighteen years of age, had not attained his full growth, was tall and spare of form, and of delicate complexion.— His boyish aspect and person, in spite of his manly bearing, awakened the sympathy, rath er than the expectations, of the spectators. — It was known that he had to do with one of the most experienced and vigorous of living knights. But Bayard was of rare agility, and possessed, what was not apparent to the eye, a degree of sinewy strength and well-de veloped muscle, which were not common to his years. He commenced rudely, we are told, abashed most probably by the novelty of the situation, and somewhat tremulous from the excited desires of his own heart.— But he soon recovered all his grace and cour age, and the issue furnished a sufficient sanc tion for his audacity. “How it happened.” remarks the quaint old chronicler from which we translate, “ I cannot tell; whether it was that God willed that he should have the glo ry, or that Messire Claude de Vaudray was pleased to forbear somewhat in consideration of his youth; but there was no man in the whole course of the tourney, whether on horse or foot, who performed his devoir bet ter than he, or indeed quite so well!” And ibis was the opinion of all the spectators —an opinion which the fair ladies of Lyons did not hesitate to avow with the frankness of hearts delighting in deeds of gallantry.— When it came to Bayard’s turn to make the round of the lists, they awarded him, in their Lyonese tongue, the highest honors of the day—“ Vey vos ccsteu malotru! il a mieux fay que tous las autros .” “ See you this awk ward lad —he hath done better than all the others!” Nor was this opinion confined to the Lyonese ladies; the courtiers were quite as much pleased with his performance. The king said at supper, “Piquet halh made a fine beginning ; in my belief he will go on to a good end ; —cousin” —to the Lord of Ligny —“ I never made you a better present in my life, than when 1 gave you that boy.” To which the count answered, “ Sire, it will be more to your profit than mine if he becomes a man of merit. It is your commendation that hath made him undertake so nobly.” — He added, “ There is one. however, who takes no pleasure in his performances —his uncle, the Abbot of Esnay. He alone looks reprov ingly at the course which brings such pleas ure to us;” and the count proceeded to tell the story of the unlimited order, the eight hundred crowns for which our two friends had assessed the reverend father, and of his unavailing dunning through the medium of the steward; —a story Avhich provoked king and courtiers to a very hearty fit of laughter. Since columns must be filled, they say, I’ll seize the pen and dash away. *1 ATHENS, SATURDAY, MAY 13, 18*. Our Inaugural. It was with unfeigned regret that we found ourself compelled by the force of circumstances, some four years ago, to resign the Editorial Chair of a Literary Magazine, and to say ‘ Farewell’ to readers and cor respondents, whom long and delightful intercourse had endeared to us. We never made a greater sa crifice of inclination to duty, than we did at that time. After having survived all our competitors, we had reluctantly to bow to the decree of a Superior Will, and abandon the field of literary labor, so con genial to our wishes. Since that period, four years have elapsed, and no one has appeared to occupy suc cessfully, the vacated ground. Up to this time, no Magazine or Journal of Belles-Lettres has been at tempted in our midst. It is under these circumstan ces that we have resolved on making another attempt to occupy permanently, the field we abandoned only from necessity. It would occupy too much space to narrate the considerations that have incited us to this resolve. Suffice it therefore, to say, that our reap pearance before the public as the Editor of a Literary Gazette, is the result of a protracted, deliberate, and, we hope, well-advised regard to the wants and wishes of the people of the Soutfl. We must await patiently the developments of Time, to test the soundness of the conclusion to which we have come. Our friends know that we have not been governed in this determination, by impulse or by imaginary con siderations. We have proceeded step by step with caution, and are now prepared to commence our En terprise under such auspices as ought to convince the most sceptical of the great probability of our success. ; \Ve have made a beginning, and in so doing, have so committed ourself to the undertaking, that no or j dinary discouragements will avail to turn us aside , from it —no obstacle, not purely Providential—intim j iuate our resolution. 4 Onward’ is our only motto, and our only policy ! With this entireness of devotion to the cause we love and labor for, have we not reason to congratulate ourself and our friends upon the beginning we have made 1 And will not all who feel an interest in the intellectual advancement of the South, join the stand ard we have set up, and help us to unfurl the bright banner of Intellect over the beautiful land we love 1 It is customary for Editors in their opening ad dresses to their readers, to lay down the landmarks they design to keep in view; to indicate the policy which will govern them, and to make some exposition of their facilities and resources for their assumed task. Obedient to custom, we shall briefly perform this part of our duty. The grand object of the paper we edit, is to devel ope and foster the intellectual capital of the South ; to open a channel for literary communication between the scholars of our wide-spreading territory, to incite to diligence latent talent, and to awaken from its trance, slumbering genius in our midst, that 44 the wilderness may blossom like the rose.’ It is further more, to supply the growing demand of our people in all conditions, for rational and instructive reading, and to bring the almost magical aid of Literature and the Arts, to bear upon the culture of the minds, and feelings, and tastes of the community; to ex hibit the true moral and intellectual dignity and des tiny of man, and in short, to afford to all, the pure and noble gratifications of the mental powers. We seek, then, to establish a paper that shall be avowedly sectional in its purpose; but while we thus speak openly, let us not lie misunderstood. We love j the South —for here all our interests for life are cen- ; tered. We mourn that the South, preeminent in j physical beauty and resources, is, beyond cavil, be- I hind the North in intellectual development and cul- J tivated taste. The confession is indeed humiliating, but who will dare disclaim it 1 This single fact, then, j is enough not only to justify, but to demand the es- , tablishment of an organ to arouse the people to a | sense of their capabilities, and their duties, to them- j selves and their country. We labor to promote Sout h- ; era Literature —because it has been mournfully neg- | lected amongst us. We have engrafted'the title, j 4 Southern’ upon our very name—not —Heaven- j forbid—to cherish sectional prejudice! but to suggest, j if no more, to our people, that Literature is as con- j genial and indigenous to the South, as to any other j region—to remind them that their own tardiness has j given force and pertinence to the query sometimes heard of this section of country, viewed in a liter rary aspect—“ Can any good thing come out of Naz areth I” We are avowedly aiul ostentatiously South ern, then, because the South needs to be spurred on to diligent effort and high attainment in the noble departments of human progress—which we call Lit eraturo and the Arts. We shall have aid from Nor thern writers, and we shall accept it with many ex pressions of thanks; for wo only seek to emulate the example her sons have set us, in the cultivation of the mind. With the broadest fellowship for the sons and daughters of Genius, whether nurtured under the skies of the Old or the New World, we still declare that we strive and hope for the intellectual progress of the South. We wish to see the streams of knowl edge flowing as freely and as boldly over the minds of people, as do our noble rivers over her ample territory. We ardently desire to witness the preva lence of a highly cultivated taste—a generous spirit of intellectual emulation amongst us. We shall therefore advocate everything which, in our opinion, will tend to accomplish these ends. We shall do all that in us lies, to make the .Smth a source as well as a mart of Literature. Every honest effort made to increase our store of home literature, shall receive all the regard and consideration to which it is entitled. ()ur columns shall be freely opened for the discussion of systems and methods of Education, in all its grades and bearings; and to all kindred topics. The youth ful aspirant for literary fame shall not be coldly frowned upon ; but when there is true merit the help ing and fostering* hand shall be extended. With the political strifes of the day, we shall not intermeddle. They belong to ahother sphere.— Strictly neutral in partisanship, we shall present our readers with a bare synopsis of political intelligence, possessing general interest. Literature is the staple of our Journal. The use ful and the ornamental Arts and Sciences will have their appropriate departments in its pages; and noth ing will be held completely foreign to our purpose that is connected with the mental development of our peo ple. In whatever we advocate .or censure, we trust to exhibit a truly catholic spirit, and a warm sym pathy with the best interests of our race. Onr field is a wide one, and embraces a vast amount of talent, now flowing into remote and irregular chan nels, for want of those nearer to receive it. Is it a vain thing to suppose that patriotism and the home principle will induce many of those who possess this talent, to rally around our Journal I But to set aside all suppositious aid, we have actual resources ample, and w.e believe, unparalleled in the history of South ern Periodical Literature. Many able writers are already aiding us, and others have pledged their as sistance. The ready and skilful pencil of more than one able artist will contribute to the embellishment of our columns. We might say more in this connec tion, but we forbear; preferring that our pages shall afford the best evidence that our resources are great and ample. We have trespassed too long upon your patience, gentle reader. We could, however, scarcely say less. It was what you had a right to expect from us in our first number—a frank expose of the principles and objects we avow. In conclusion, wc beg of you to exercise toward us, those noble virtues —patience and leniency. We may blunder —we may fall short ofyour expectations ; but we will be honest and earnest in all that we do ; and trusting to your indulgence for mistakes of the head only, we commend to you this, the L st number of a Journal, which —God helping us —siiT! nut lx! liglß ly, or for small cause, abandoned. Our Gossip Column, In selecting the above title for a weekly heading to one column of our paper, we kave been influenced by a wish to have an appropriate place for those tri fles which sustain the same relation to our periodical feast, us the side dishes do to a well-appointed din ner. Here we shall serve up, in such quantity as we may, those literary tit-bits that are always palatable, and in most cases, so eagerly sought for by the gen eraljreader. It will not be supposed that every entree in this department, shall possess the merit of origi nality. We may occasionally do no more than add fresh spice to a dish already familiar to some of our readers—for a good thing will bear repeat ing—even as a choice viand is welcomed at the table after it has ceased to be a novelty. There we shall converse with our beloved readers in a familiar manner —slip-shod, as it were, by our own hearth, or, to use a mode of expression more appropriate to the hot seusou fast advancing— 44 under our own vine and fig-tree."— We may, perchance, puss from “grave to gay” with such a suddenness of transition, that in a more digni fied place would shock the propriety of the reader ; there, however, he will not expect to find either rhe torical elegance or logical coherence. 4 Black spirits and white, blue spirits and gray, Mingle, mingle, mingle,’ jn the tissue wo propose to weave weekly, with words, without waxing weary. 5