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mating organs, without whose use speech is a dull monotony, and hearing, of itself, of little value. The fact that upon the features the deaf mute has, in a great measure, to de pend. causes those to be trained to singular expressiveness. The countenance is a speak ing volume, a nobly reflecting mirror, in which we see the emotions of the soul dis played in a manner never discoverable in one not deprived of these senses. This is observ able in all of the inmates to a greater or less degree. Mr. Edwards, for example, possess es one of the most glowing and excellent fa ces we ever saw upon this class of persons. His natural benevolence of character is shown upon every lineament of it. Anger seems rarely to have required a change of its plea sant outlines, while it appears as if constant ly overflowing with cheerfulness and good nature, ingenuousness and innocence. One of the scholars, Matthews, is remarka ble for the intentness and expression of his countenance. He takes great delight in in forming his newly-acquired friends of scenes beheld by him. He has, however, a wonder ful disposition for the horrible. His silent but remarkable descriptions always exhibit the gloom and terror of some awful accident —a run-away horse, a falling tree, a mangled limb, or a man hung. Start him, and in a moment,’as clearly as gestures and counten ance can display, he begins the dreadful tale. He jumps, he runs, he falls down, he lies crushed under a tree, he swings himself by the neck, he struggles, and dies, with all the contortions of the real scene. He is a great mimic, and walks and acts as does every man, woman, and child of the neighborhood; but he. withal, possesses a good, kind heart, and intelligent mind. There are many pupils, and all possessed of much intellect —many promising very great proficiency in someone or more of the several departments. Messrs. Wright, Young, Bell, Birdsong, Raiford, and all the girls, are interesting scholars. The Institution is, in fine, a blessing, as well as a noble ornament to the State; and, if no other evidence existed of her worth and laudable enterprize, it would place Georgia in a very high position for character as the pro moter of educational and benevolent estab lishments. P- t i For the Southern Literary Gazette. NEW-YORK LETTERS.-NO. 33. Ratiibun Hotel, New lor/c, \ Dec. 13, 1848. j Nlij Dear Sir , —A wonder is usually al lowed to breathe the breath of life for the space of nine days, but here we never grant him more than a week —never. The seven days up. and he is cut down like the ‘'hop per-grass, n and his successor called into be ing. Since my last, Literature, the Arts, and the Drama, have been quite forgotten in the new themes of California and the Cholera. The yellow fever has become epidemic, and the genuine Asiatic asphyxia, Simon pure ‘morbus 1 ?'sto follow suit. The golden plague is carrying oflf hundreds of unhappy victims, and the other is—God bless it! sweeping the streets ! Both are, doubtless, blessings in disguise—partial evils, resulting in universal good. The Mexican disease is relieving us of crowds of useless and restless citizens, and the oriental is giving us a realizing sense of the comfort of cleanliness. r i he late intelli gence from our new Territory, with the arri val of a considerable quantity of genuine gold, has created an excitement here, as eve ry where else, the like of which is not in the most venerable memory. Old and young alike are eager to tempt fortune in the wilds and wastes of California. Every one, who is able to scrape together a capital of a few dollars, is investing it in spades, shovels, to bacco, rum, and other sundries, hoping to re ceive for his merchandize, literally, its weight in gold. The dream really appears to be not a ll a dream, for, a few days since, the house of Sheldon Phelps & Cos., hard-ware mer MsnnasiaiEi ® ass if its* chants of this city, who, some year or more ago, sent out six dozen shovels, worth ten dollars a dozen, to California, received nett returns, therefor, amounting to four thousand six hundred dollars! Those whose lack of means gave them no chance to enter the mercantile circles, are going into the industri al ranks to gather gold on all fours. .As the brig Betsy wascasting off atone of ourdocks, on Friday last, for the modern El Dorado, a poor fellow came rushing down, with no earthly baggage but a spade, a pick-axe, and a hoe, and crying, at the top of his voice, to the vessel to hold on, for the love of God and let him get on board ! The adventurer was hurried into a skiff, and, directly after, bade his “native land good night.” A large number of vessels are already “up” for San Francisco, and the demand for passage is so great, that soon we shall have no idle bottoms in our harbor. High and low, rich and poor, the private circle and the public press—all are specula ting upon the upshot of the late discoveries in California. That gold is to Le had there for the raking, is no longer a matter of ques tion —hardly less so, that other valuable ores exist in abundance—quick-silver, platina, copper, etc. Countless wealth seems to be waiting to fall into our lap; the capital of the country soon promises to be doubled and trebled. What will be the result ! Every body makes the query, and listeners look mysterious in reply. The newspapers talk eloquently—thank Heaven that we are a great people —that this is a great country; think the government must expend seventy millions of dollars in constructing a rail-road of twenty-five hundred miles in length, ex tending through Ihe Great South Pass to the Pacific, when the present five month’s jour ney to California will be reduced to only as many weeks; and a direct communication will be opened with China: the United States will become the entrepot of the civili zed world, overshadow the terrestial globe, lead all other nations by the nose, and—and, in short, be a republic, as is a republic. In the all-absorbing nature of this golden theme, people have been able to spare but a passing thought to the terrible plague which no one doubts is at the very ihreshhold of our city. That the cholera has been, and is at the Quarantine, is duly certified by repeat ed daily reports of the Board of Health, by our best physicians, and by the deaths of a number of unfortunate victims. Happily, within a day or two past, the disease has abated, and hopes are not unreasonably en tertained that it may entirely subside. At the end of last week, so strong was the popular belief that the next day, or the next, would bring the plague within the city walls, that the authorities commenced serious and ear nest preparations for itsadvent. d'hese wise precautions which may yet prove timely— are not abated. Health committees have been organized in every Ward, a number of public buildings have been set apart as hos pitals, the dens of filth and poison are being cleansed, and our poor, neglected, dirty streets, are really having a genuine washing, starching and ironing. All Sunday last, while the people of France were electing Louis Napoleon, as England wants, and Ca vaignac, as we here think, for their Presi dent, hundreds of hoes and brooms were ac tively employed in making the toilette of the down-town business streets. Every thing which may tend to breed disease is being re moved, except tire Bowling Green Fountain, the bands at the Museum, and Dr. Colyers', and the Ethiopian “ Opera.” With the hope that I may have no further occasion to recur to this last subject, 1 will now leave it for a brief mention of other cur rent happenings. As the day of distribution of prizes at the Art Union approaches, the subscriptions rap idly increase. At this moment, they are | looking exceedingly like fourteen thousand I! Should the books remain open until the close of the season, not less than fifteen thousand names will be recorded on their pages. On Monday; Messrs. Goupil, Vibert & Cos., opened their beautiful gallery of Euro pean Paintings free to the public, under the style and title of the “International Art Union.” Their proposed plan of operations is, in the main, similar to that of all institu tions of the kind, here and in Europe. The subscription is five dollars annually, which entitles the member to a copy of the engra ving for the year, and a chance in the distri bution of pictures. These prizes will be se lected from the works of European artists instead of American, and the fund appropria ted to their purchase will be the balance re maining in the treasury, after the cost of the annual engraving has been paid. One Ameri can artist, also, is to be sent abroad every year at the expense of the Institution. Messrs. Goupil, Vibert & Cos , are an old established Paris house, well secured, and possessing the unbounded confidence of Lire public, both in this country and at home. Implicit reliance may be placed in all their promises. The National Academy of Design, instead of purchasing the edifice of theßackett Club, has secured a magnificent location on the west side of Broadway, just above the Bond street House, and will very soon erect thereon a superb building, which, while it will be in every respect suitable for its purposes, will be a rich architectural ornament to the city. The structure will have a front of white mar ble or free stone, extending not less than a hundred feet. The Art Union, also, will probably enlarge its Exhibition Rooms next season. The picture of Napoleon Crossing the Alps, is about to be removed to Boston, and the celebrated paintings of Adam and Eve, by Dubuqe, are to take its place here. The New York Sketch Club, made up of the Junior Artists, is in the midst of its regu lar winter labors. Thus far, the subjects of illustration, this season, have been chiefly from the plays of Shakspeare. The theme for the present week is the Life of Washing ton. The Rev. Professor Brantly and his lady, of your town, are now at the Irving House, cn route for home. You will, no-doubt, ex cuse me, while 1 run up to pay them my re spects. f LIT. Sclcctcb Poetry. THE FAIRER LAND. BY T. BUCHANAN REAR. All the night, in broken slumber , I went down the world of dreams, Through a land of war and turmoil, Swept by loud and sounding stream*. Where the masters wandered, chanting Ponderous and tumultuous themes. Chanting from unwieldly volumes Iron maxims, stern and stark, Truths that swept and burst and stumbled Through the ancient rifted dark ; Till my soul was tossed and worried Like a tempest-driven hark. But anon, within the distance, Stood the village vanes aflame, And the sunshine, filled with music To my oriel casement came ; While the birds sang pleasant valent,n * Against my window frame. Then by sights and sounds invited I went down to meet the morn Saw the trailing mists roll inland Over rustling fields of corn. And from quiet hill-side hamlet*. Heard the distant rustic horn. There, through daisied dales and byways Met I forms of fairer rnoull Pouring songs for every pleasure— __ Jrongs their hearts could not withho .1 Setting all the birds a singing^ With their delicate harps of gold Some went plucking little lilly-bells, That withered in the hand: Some, where smiled a summer ocean,. Gathered pebbles from the send ; Some, with prophet eyes uplifted. Walked unconscious of the land. Through that fairer world I wandered Slowly, listening oft and long, And, as one behind the reapers, Without any thought of wrong, Loitered, gleaning for my garner Flowery sheaves of sweetest song. THE FRIENDLY DEFIANCE. BY CHARLES M A C K A Y . Thou shalt not rob me, thievish Time. Os all my blessings, all my joy ; 1 lmvo some jewels iu my heart, Which thou art powerless to distroy. Thou may’st denude my arm of strength, And leave my temples seam’d and hare : Deprive my eyes of passion's light, And scatter silver o’er iuy hair ; But never, while a book remains, And breathes a woman or a child, f?hall thou deprive me, whilst 1 li\e, Os feelings fresh and undefiled. No, never, while the Earth is fair. And reason keeps its dial bright. Whate’er thy robberies, O. Time. Shall 1 he bankrupt of delight. Whate’er thy victories on my frame. Thou can’st not cheat me of this truth— That though the limbs may faint and fail,. The spirit can renew its youth. So, t hievish Time, 1 fear thee not; Thou’rt powerless on this heart of mine: Myjowelg shall belong to me — ’Tis but the settings that aro thine ©limpsfs of JfnD Bool\3. SKETCH OF JOHN RANDOLPH. One of the most remarkable men that ever lived, was John Randolph, of Roanoke. He was born the 2d of June, 1773, at Matoax, the seat of his father, three miles above Pe tersburg, Ya. In his veins were blended the aristocratic blood of England and the blood royal of primitive America. His lordly bear ing, aboriginal descent, eccentric career, and extraordinary eloquence, early fastened tlie attention of his countrymen, and through ma ny years engrossed popular regard to a won derful degree. Mr. Randolph made bis first appearance in public life in 1799, as a candidate for a seat in Congress, and was elected. When he entered Congress, his youthful aspect, among other striking traits, attracted universal surprise. As he presented himself at the clerk’s table to quality, the official de manded his age. “ Ask my constituents,” was the characteristic reply. Mr. Randolph soon became a marked man in the national councils. His fearless thought, pungent language, withering sarcasm, and general power as a prompt and passionate de bater, attracted the admiration, as well as ex cited the dread, of all parties within Congress and without. John Randolph was about six feet high.— Tie had elevated shoulders, a small head, and ; a physiognomy, all the parts of which were 1 entirely unintellectual except the eye. His hair was dark, thin, and lank, and lay close to his head. His voice was shrill as a fife, | but its clear, shrieking tones, could be dis ! tinctly heard by a large audience. The mus cles and skin about his face were shrivelled and cadaverous, like wrinkled parchment; his whole form was so attenuated and mea gre, that, tall as he was, bis acquaintance supposed him not to weigh any more than one hundred and thirty pounds. The author of “Clinton Bradshaw'.” who enjoyed a favorable opportunity of observing this strange being, has given us the following graphic description of his person, habiliments, and manners: — “ His long, thin legs, .about as thick as a walking-cane, and of much such a shape, were encased in a pair of light small clothes, so light they seemed part and parcel of the wearer. Handsome white stockings were fastened with great tidiness at the knees by a gold buckle, and over them, coming about half way up the calf, were a pair of what 1 believe were called hose, country knit. He wore shoes. They were oid-fashioned, and fastened also with buckles—large ones. He trod like an Indian, without turning his toes, out, but planking them right ahead. It was the fashion in those days to wear a fan-tailed coat, with a small collar, with buttons far apart on the hack, with but few on the breast. Mr. Randolph’s was the reverse of this. In stead of being fan-tailed, it was what I be lieve the knights of the needle call swallow - tailed; the collar was immensely large ; the buttons were in kissing proximity, and they sat as close on the breast of the garment a* the feastersat a crowded festival. His waist was so remarkably slender that, ‘as he stood 259