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J 0 r ; ve anew word anil anew definition: <•/ kun spell it and d’fine it !*’ said a lad, af ter the boy above him had tried and missed; ~ i kun do it'” and he did: “A-c-e-p-h,cef, cEPII a louse without a head!” “Mostall of ’em laughed,” our informant says, “ when the boy said that V'—lbid. “editor's DEPARTMENT Athens, Ga., Saturday, September 16, 1843. Newspaper Larceny. V. r e notice in our exchanges many sharp 44 items” on this subject, which is really fast becoming a cry ing evil. Scarcely one of our able contemporaries is free uOiii complaints that its articles are copied with out ciedit. Now “ these things ought not so to be.” We have suffered “some” ourself in this matter; but we will “ot make a fuss about it until we get a little older and then if our exchanges pilfer our good tilings—by widcll, of course, we mean “our contrib utor’ ’ —we will be down upon them with a particu lar vengeance. Meanwhile, we will echo the com plai its of our “big brothers,” and declare that it is aid n a.id a r liame—it is—for one editor to steal from another : when, by the generous custom of the times, he can lake what he pleases, if he will only say, • jfy s om leave.” Say, you man with your scissors and your paste-brush'—that has just clipped that capital *tu y f-om the Yankee Blade—that spicy edi tor ii. I i’rot Fitzgerald’s ‘-Item”—that beautiful po em from Neal’s Saturday Gazette —that critique from lh- L'k/ravv World—that “ side-splitter” from the Spirit o the Times—that plate of Gossip from the Elli ot’s ‘1 able of the Knickerbocker—say, are you ;ioi afraid i hat if you publish all these, and ma ny non* in vour hebdomedal, without giving due credit, ghosts of these aggrieved Journals will visi. you ‘ • li e eight-watches, and point with solemn fi.tgev to ihe’j mutilated pages, harrowing up your guilty >ods, as l acy exclaim in unison but with se pulchral lore —“ Thou shall not steal ?” So extensively is this practice of re-publishing ar ticles wkhou. acknowledgment carried on, that the innoccn a c often involved with the guilty. A good thing is transferred from the pages of a popular Journal, vvae.e it appeared, perhaps, at a considera ble coy to ihe edito:, to a contemporary, without the p-oper credit. From the latter it is subsequent ly ve-copied by its exchanges, who may not see the orighud paper at all. Thus a whole chain of theft is forged link bv (ink —upon the very first of which hung;, eJ 1 .he guilt. There is a.i old adage which implies the existence of 4 honor cnoxig thieves and surely, brethren of the newspaper press, we ought to be no less scrupu lous in the regulation of our intercourse with each oihei. Jven if Iho larceny be of the merest trifles, without int rinsic merit, it is, nevertheless, according to the decision of one of the best judges —of human natue that ever lived, precisely as culpable as the act of the highwayman, who demands “ your money o • your life.” jie takes the former —and what says Shakspea. e 1 “ Who steals my purse steals trash.” We do not know how we can better subserve the interests of our contemporaries, whose rights are tons shamefully infringed, and whose ideas are thus sacrilegiously stolon, than by giving publioity to the following REFRAIN. Ye men of the paste-brush and scissors! Come list to the song that I sing : A matter of moment it is, sirs, That I to your notice shall bring. When you open the mail of a morning, And look your “exchanges” all through, Now listen, I pray, to my warning, And learn what you “oughter” to do. Don’t take up the “Blade” or the “Spirit ” And, with features stretched out to a grin, Excerpt all the Btories of merit— And steal, them for that is a sin! Fake any good thing when you read it, And take it without any cash, Bat please to remember the “credit,” (■or that, you know, “settles the hash.” ©TOUM Ob olf ift [ft [ft ¥ ©A%IS¥¥ S3 ♦ The Knickerbocker and our Friends. We have always commended the “ Knickerbock er,” and applauded the industry and taste of its Edi tor, —and we are sorry to have to utter now the lan guage of censure, which we do, however, as a mat ter of sheer justice to esteemed friends who are made the objeot ot ungenerous allusion in this number. The Editor makes occasion to attack the veracity of our friend Lanmans’s “ Summer in the Wilderness,” which, according to some sort of evidence which he adduces, is a “ scandalous and miserable fabrica tion.” From this, Mr. Clark proceeds to say, “ Let us hope that Mr. Lanman’s ‘ Travels in the South,’ upon which he is now engaged, will be somewhat more reliable than the work in question. But ‘ while we hope we fear,’ for we heard two or three South ern gentlemen, at the American Hotel, the other day, ‘ laughing consumedly’ over a portion of the book, which had transpired, in the columns of a daily Journal, descriptive of a visit which the writer had paid to the residence of a Southern Novelist, more voluminous than readable, and the wonderful things he saw there. We doubt, therefore, but the South ern book must be taken something more than ‘ cum grano salis.’ ” Now, this letter of Mr. Lanman's was published in the New York Express, and the “ Southern Nov elist” alluded to, is our esteemed and honorable friend, Mr. Simms, at whom the Knickerbocker loses no opportunity, “in season or out of season,” to make what it doubtless considers to be sarcastic flings. Mr. Simms is the writer “ more voluminous than readable” —a phrase, by the way, probably stereotyped for the Knickerbocker ; and such is the rancour of the Editor towards him, that he must even call in question—under the very transparent guise of impressions gathered from a conversation of some Southern gentlemen, (we should like to know who they were!) —the truth of Mr. Lanman’s de scription of his visit to Woodlands, the country seat of Mr. Simms. Now, we are very happy to be able to come to the rescue of both our friends from the uncalled for aspersions of the Knickerbocker. It was our good fortune, unexpectedly, to meet Mr. Lanman while we were en route from Charleston to Woodlands, and knowing the generous hospitality of its master, we insisted that L. should go with us, refusing to take “no” for answer. We were, there fore, a fellow-guest with the author of a “ Summer in the Wilderness,” during the whole of his visit to the Southern Novelist, who is so “voluminous” as to offend the Knickerbocker; and we unhesitat ingly pronounce the letter in the Express to con tain a true record of what we saw and enjoyed at Mr. Simms’ country home. The hours—the days flew too swiftly by, and we left Woodlands with ex treme reluctance —delighted with the generous hos pitality —the varied and charming conversation —the cheerful and elevated philosophy—the bold and in dependent spirit —the courteous and urbane manners of our host. We think that any warm hearted and unprejudiced visitor, would have written a similar description of the Poet’s home and the Poet’s self. So much, then, for the insinuation of the Knicker bocker, that the letter, and, of course, the book, of which (as we now It- atn, for the first time,) it is to form a part, must be received with more than a grain of salt. We cordially recommend to the Knicker bocker to put a few grains of generosity —let us rather say justice —into its further notices of both the visitor and the visited at Woodlands. We speak more for the Editor’s sake than for Mr. Simms’, who, we fear, will hardly thank us for the pains we have taken in his defence —careless, as we know him to be, of all such sinister attacks. Mr. Simms holds a deservedly high place in the esteem and regard of the people of the South, not only for his many valu able contributions to our Literature, but for his no ble example and illustration of self-development in the midst of untoward circumstances ; for his ardent attachment to Southern principles, and his many shining virtues as a man. We do him the merest justice in thus repelling the unworthy inuendoes of the Editor of the Knickerbocker, of whom we would like to have spoken only praise. 2Ltterar OSUotllJ. Death of Captain Marryatt.— The London Journals record the demise of this distinguished offi cer and novelist. He died on the 9th August, at his residence, in the county of Norfolk. His death was occasioned by the bursting of various blood vessels, which produced a long and painful sickness. His spirits had been greatly depressed by the sad fate of his eldest son, who perished last winter in the wreck of H. M. ship the Avenger. Capt. M. was 56 years of age, and during his life, won a high renown, not only in the British Navy, but as a writer of fiction. While he will be remembered by thousands, as the author of those inimitable works, “ Peter Simple” and “ Jacob Faithful,” he will live in the memory of all the young, who read the English language, as the author of those charming stories —“ Masterman Ready,” “ The Settlers in Canada,” “ Scenes in Africa,” and “The Children of the New Forest.” Requiescat in pace t General Gleanings.— The Chair of Chemistry in the South Carolina College is vacant, by the re signation of Professor Ellctt. An election for his successor will take place on the 29th of November Mr. B. Perly Poore’s Rise and Fall of Louis Phillippe, is just out from tho Ticknor (Boston) Press. Rev. E. L. Magoon's promised work on the Ora tors of the Revolution, has appeared from the Press of Baker & Scribner. The first volume of Washington Irving‘s complete works, has been issued in handsome style, by Put nam. More of it anon. The total number of volumes sold at tho recent trade sale of Cooley, Keese & Hill, in New York City, is estimated at little short of a quarter of a million, and the proceeds at about 500,000 dollars. ®ur CSossCp Column. “ Leaves have their time to full, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set—but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh, Death!” These beautiful words of England's sweetest poet ess were brought with sad force to our recollection, a few days ago, by intelligence from afar of the sud den death of Mary, daughter of the Rev. Samuel Anthony, of our town. The tidings smote on many hearts in this community with a heavy sound; but who shall conceive the agony of the bereaved family! The deceased left our town about a month ago —a happy bride—to make with her husband a northern tour. At Niagara she was taken ill, but recovered sufficiently to commence a return journey, which, with her, was indeed a brief one. At Rome, N. Y., her malady reappeared ; and, almost before ilange r was apprehended, the fatal shaft of Death reached her heart, and she closed then and there her pilgrim age of life. All that returns to her family of the once blooming maiden is her inanimate body, brought by the bereaved husband as a sad memento of his and their loss. The deceased was only nineteen years of age, in the very bloom of health and beauty. She was endeared to all who knew her by the sweet ness of her disposition, and the graces of her person. The idol of her parents, the cherished friend of her young associates, it may appropriately be said of her, as of another, “None knew her but to love her, None named her but to praise.” She had just entered, as it were, upon life with a bright prospect before her of happiness and useful ness. But it has pleased the Master of Life to sum mons her early to her immortality; and while we shed the tear of sorrow over the memory of her de parted loveliness, wo think of her as an angel of light, in her perfected beauty, before the Throne of the Lamb forever! .... While cleaning out an old book-case, yesterday, we threw a handful of tho rubbish into our Conundrum Machine, and, after a few revolutions of the crank, the following were found in the discharging box : Why is a book like an organ I Because it contains stops, and requires puffing to make it go. Why should a well-finished book last a long time 1 Because it is bound to do so. Why is the following orthography, s-i-k-n-e-s, like a violent fever I Because it is a bad spell of sickness. Why is a dull volume like an air-pump I Because it exhausts the receiver. Why is a pamphlet like a royal personage 1 Because it has a number of pages. Punch thinks that a great deal blood-shed had been spared, if the Irish rebellion had broken out six months earlier; for he says “there is no doubt that the result would have cast such intense ridicule upon the very name of Revolution, that no State would have had the courage to attempt one after the Hi bernian failure.” The facetious old gentleman is il lustrating with pen and pencil, under the expressive title of Flunk iana, the aristocratic airs of the ser vants in fashionable life. In his last issue, on our table, we have a cut —and a sharp one, too!—depict ing a corpulent John Bull pointing to a well-spread table, and addressing three “stuck-up“ servants, j The following is the conversation: Master. —“ Now pray, what is it you complain of 1 Is not a roast leg of mutton, with plenty of pudding, vegetables and beer, a substantial dinner enough for you 1“ Flunkey. —“ Oh ! substantial enough, no doubt, sir, hut it really is a quizzeen, (cuisine,) that-aw me and the other gentlemen has not been accustomed to. It‘s vel-y corse, very corse, indeed, sir!!“ The celebrated vocalist, Jenny Lind, whose sou briquet of the * Swedish Nightingale 4 is familiar to every person of musical taste, has recently had the misfortune to lose the greater part of her accumula ted earnings, by the failure of Arneman & Cos., Bankers in the city of Altona. Her voice, however, ahs lost none of its sweetness, and her name none of its magical influence upon the world; 30 she can speedily sing, ‘not a song of sixpence, 4 but 4 to the tune of a million.* Os Jenny Lind's voice, it would be decidedly untrue to gay, ‘ Vox et preteria nihil!’ .... The Mayor of Liverpool is a philosopher of the right stamp, and places a proper dependence on the power of tho ‘statute.’ When an insurrection was looked for by some in that goodly city, be coolly declared it impossible, alleging that the construction of barricades could not be attempted by any body of insurgents, without forty-eight hours 4 previous no tice, in accordance with the provisions of the 4 build ing act! 4 ... . The sketch in our 4 Southern Eclectic,’entitled 4 Baby-Jumpers, 4 is exceedingly clever, and much more *to the life 4 than we could have supposed the young writer could make it Where did he get his experience in such matters 1 He tells us that he was a baby himself once, and we think that very likely; but then that was before Mr. Tuttle's triumphant experiment e present our readers with two Letters from our New York correspondent in this number, which close the Lake George series. He will, after a brief sojourn in the Catskill region, 4 revisit the glimpses 4 of Goth am, and resume his metropolitan chat Our customary 4 Bowl of Punch 4 is crowded off the side board this week. Qfyt American iWontfjlM s3ms. The Knickerbocker, for September. New York : John Allen. An excellent variety marks the pages of this ele gant Magazine for the current month, and we have been particularly interested in a racy article on Burns. Tho Twinkle Manuscripts promise to be exceedingly attractive, and the author of thel in necum Papers has a characteristic essay on The Old Indians of Long Island. Forty-two pages of the number are occupied by the indefatigable Editor in Literary Notices and tho usual gossiping of the Table, to an item ot which we have felt con strained to make allusions in another column. Our Exchanges come to us full of good things from 4 Old Knick’—and we shall appropriate a share for our readers in due time and place. Holden’s Dollar Magazine. New York: Chas. W. Holden. Not to accord high praise to the taste and enter prise of Mr. Holden in establishing this Magazine, would be injustice. “Wo have received only the Sep tember number, though we have seen previous issues, and are satisfied that it is the cheapest monthly of its kind in the Union; and we do not mean by this that it is the lowest priced only, but more, that its value is greater in proportion to its price than in most of its contemporaries. We might expect in so cheap a work, articles of small moment, inferior pa per, and other accompaniments It is not so, how ever. Holden caters nobly for his readers, and his 1 enterprise ought to be applauded and sustained. ;.Each number contains sixty closely printed pages, and several neat engravings on wood. The American Agriculturist. New York: C. M. Saxton We have repeatedly said in private, what we now declare in public, that this is the best and cheapest 1 Agricultural J ournal that the North produces. Edit i cd by A. B Allen, Esq., who is preeminent for his knowledge and ability in his department —it is tilled every month with valuable papers, illustrated by beautiful cuts, and makes a volume of 400 pages for One Dollar. Every intelligent farmer should sub scribe for the American Agriculturist —even if he al ready takes, as who should not, the Southern Culti vator. He will not find them both too much for him The Columbian Magazine, for September, 1848. New York: J. S. Taylor. We received some of the September Magazines so early in the previous month, that we supposed wa might have been overlooked in ihe distribution o* the Columbian. It came, however, on the second day of the month —a promptitude quite as strict as we can desire ; and as if to answer our complaint at its comparative tardiness, the editorial department contains some judicious thoughts on the impropriety of ante-dating monthly Journals, and issuing in Au gust what is really designed for September. We ac knowledge the justice of this, and really think that it would be better for the monthlies to time their is sues, so that the first of the month would bring them to all parts of the country. The Columbian is an excellent Magazine We do not design to puff it — for it is unnecessary. The present number is a very attractive one. Notices to Correspondents. Bayard. —Many thanks for your remembrance. We shall print you in our next, probably. Alpha. —We * reluct 4 to say no, and yet it were wiser than to say yes. Candidly, our advice is to you to try again, and try often. J. M. L.—Your 4 Revolutionary Incident 4 irvery acceptable, and demands our thanks. R. G. R.—We will write you very soon, and try to meet your wishes. Married, on Thursday evening, 14th instant, by Rev. Dr. Hoyt, Mr. John W. Burke and Miss Caroline A. White, all of this place. 151