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IMillOlM iiMOOBIf. Ihe most perfect Government would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least—Cost* least—Disposes Justice to ail, and confers Privileges on None.—BENTHAM. VOL. I.i DR. W.U GREEN EDITOR. ai£sp.:cja:t dsiioop^t. PUBLISHED WEEKLY, BY W. A. & C. THOMPSON, MULBERRY STREET, MACON, GEO, AT TWO DOLLAH3 PER ANNUM, JO- IN ADVANCE. -CU Rates of Advertising, Ac, One square, of 100 words, ov less, in small type, 75 cent for the tirsi inset uol, and 50 cents lor each subsequent inser tion. All Advertisements containing more than 100 and less than 200 words, will be charged as two squares. To Yearly Advertisers, a liberal deduction will be made. H 3— N. B Sales of LAND, by Administrators. Executors, or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on the fust Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10 in the lore boon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court-House in the Coun ty in which the property is situa ed. Nonce of these must be given in a pubac Gazette, SIXTY DAYri, previous to the day ol sule. „ Sales of NEGROES, must be made at public auction, on Ihe first Tue*«lay of the month, between the legal hours of cate, at the place of public stiles in the county where the let ters testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, shall have been granted, SIXTY DAYS notice being previously given in one of the public gazette of this State, and .it the door of the Court-House, where such sales are to be held. Sales of PERSONAL PROPERTY, must be advertised in the same manner FORTY DAYS previous to the day of sale. Notice to Debtors and Creditors ol an Estate, must be pub lished FORTY Days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordi nary, for leave to sell LAND, must be published FOUR MONTHS. Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for FOUR MONTiIS, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. Ail business of this nature, will receive prompt attention, at the Office of the AMERICAN DEMOCRAT REMITTANCES BY MAIL. —“A Postmaster may en close money in a letter to the publisher of a news|«per, to pay the subscription of a third person, and frank the leiter, if written by himself.” Amos KtndaU , P. M. ti. COMMUNICATIONS addressed to the Plbush^rs-Post Paid. ~ P 0 K TRY, c —~ ; —r ■ —---.r: THE COMMON LOT. BY S. WALLACE CONE, ESQ. Tlow ilorp that feeling in the heart, Must deep when least confessed, Must sad when nut a tear will start To purge it from the breast A duutiling wish —a dread —a pain A heavy darkntss weighing down Hope’s wings, wlien upward must they strain Oblivion's shadow fortune's frown That fear, when this our clay is not, Our love, ourself, will be forgot! I scarcely knew that I could feel Wliat now 100 Well 1 know, When to my ebildliood's thoughts would steal Dim shapes, anJ whisper low : Ages have passed since we were men Who dared the worm to touch our name, Who thought when dead to live again In tie eternity of Fame. We lived, we died earth knows us not j We are, and thou shalt be— tbrgot! “ Great fame was ours we led the way In honorable strife; We cun<|uered, but our mortal day Measured our glory’s tilo. We loved the land our fathers won And gave to us, their children, free; We bled that still from sire to son The pure bejuest as pure might he. No pillar marks our burial spot We are, and thou shall be— forgot!” Or changing thus: “We loved, wc died, And latterly were wept; A year, and she who loneliest sighed, \\ atcli for new loveis kept. •She who lirst freed our loitered thought, Whom m >re we loved than all beside, Had oilier sons, and barely tauglit That ere they lived their brother died ! Death makes an unregarded blot: We were, and tbou shalt be— forgot!” And strongly, when they passed, 1 strove To think it dreaming vain ; To ho|>e that love remain ereil love, When dust was dust again ; That where we stored our wealth of trust In hearts akin, or pledged to ours, Time’s thelt and disadeclion’s rust In vain would urge their puny powers ; That earth and memory held some spot Where l could never be forgot. Ah ! bitter truth, earth holds no heart So faithful and so true, But will lor pleasure freely start, When griefs no longer new. Woman forgets her sucking child ; Fond wives, just widowed, wed again ; And grief that raves most hop loss wild, Ere long can smile at vanished pain ; Foi nature gives a common lot, To live, to love, to lie foi got! HOPE. FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. H. GATES. Hobr many there are who sing rnd dream Os happirr seasons coming, And ever is fancy, to catch the beam Os a Golden Era, roaming! The world may grow old —and young again And the hope of a better shall still remain. Hope comes with life at its dawning hour'; Hope spnr's with the infant creeper : Hope cheers up the youth, with her magic power; And whim, too, the gr. y-hair.il we< per Has rlosed in the grave his weary round, lie plants the tree of hope on the uicunJ It is not an empty, vain deceit, In the brains of fools crest, and ; It speaks to the soul of a stale more meet, Where its lonjim/s shall all hr satin I. And the promise the indwelling voi**e thus makes To the Inying soul —it never breaks. DEMOCRATIC BAKNEII ~ FREE TRADE; LOW DUTIES; NO DEBT; SEPARATION FROM BANES; ECONOMY; RETRENCHMENT; AND A STRICT ADHERENCE TO THE CONSTITUTION.-— J. C. Fun .lie V V. Murning Post. JOHN t. CA. 110 IN. lu his Peisoi.al, Moral, and .utellectual traits of Cheracter. The characters of public men belong' to the People, not only for their service, but also for their love and admiration ; nor can they ever justly comprehend the uses to which their public servants should te applied, or the positions worthy of them, but from a personal and intimate view of their who e moral as well as in tellectual characteristics. Splendid spee ches, or exhibitions of profound thought may give the appearance of wisdom ; but, after all, it is the wi-dom of the heart, and not that of the head only, which finds out Truth. True statesmanship, in a Republic, consists in carrying out into public atfairs the highest principles of right and justice, and to practice,or even discern these principles, in the difficult affairs of government, implies not only the greatest intellectual endowments, hut the most exalted moral attributes. Hence the importance to the people, in selecting their agents for the administration of their atfairs, if possible, to know them person ally'—to see the man in his social and domestic relations, as well as in the dis charge of his public duties—and thus be enabled to judge of the patriotism of the Statesman I y his fidelity to duties nearer to him, as a parent, neighbor, friend. Our country, consisting of multitudes, is, comparatively speaking, an abstraction ; but the objects around our hearths, and the beating bosoms in daily intercourse with us, will call out whatever virtues weposs ss; and it is difficult that any exist for the former, which are not dis closed in the latter relations. For these reasons we have thought it would he grateful to our readers and expedient for ourselves —having long since announced our preference of John U. Ca houn, as the next President of the. United Suites from the most authentic sources to en deavor brietly to delineate the personal, moral, and intellectual characteristics of this distinguished statesman. Because matter is not spirit, “the hu man face divine” can never fully repre sent the soul within ; and instead of an open window, it is but too often a thick veil to the bright intelligence and noble nature which fills our being. Few faces, ! however, more faithfully reveal the char acteristics of the man than that of the great Southern Senator. It is of the same cast, and strikingly resembles General ! Jackson’s. The thin, hard, pale features jutting forehead compressed, reso- 1 lute lips deep, large eagle eyes, with his hair standing up (if curled it would deform him,) ail contribute to place; before us a high, stern and beaming coun tenance. Yet its light is not the light of passion ; but like the heartless rays of the diamond, seems to blaze with the in tense energy of pure vehement in'e li gence. His body would seem to indicate original weakness tall and spare, with high narrow shoulders, slightly stooping; but by habits of temperance and industry, he has made it an admirable slave to his will, and capable of immense labor, phys ical and intellectual. Miss Marttneau called him “ the cast iron man,” we sup pose from his stern and inflexible coun tenance, but steel wire is a far better sim ile for the tough endurance and elasticity of his frame. We have thus briefly described the personal appearance of Mr. Calhoun, be cause, although for more than a quarter of a century one of the greatest men of the Union or the age, influencing public affairs at every turn, and repeated y crowned with the highest honor the Re public can bestow, save one —he is probably less known personally to the people of the United States, than any of our listingttished statesmen. IF 1 has ne ver breathed any atmosphere but that of the United States. He has never vi c ited the North, we believe, since he was a law student at Litchfield, in Connecticut. He has never been in the West. The truth is, neither his love of home, nor his lim ited fortune, have allowed him to pursue anv other paths than those of strict duty, and domestic happiness. From Wash ington. immediately at the close of every Congress, he hurries to his home, under the mountains of South Carolina, and there devotes himself to his farm and his family. Mr. Calhoun has often been called a theorist, nn abstractionist, probably only by those who are incapable of compre hending any truths, but those on the sur face of things ; but a more practical man, one who more clearly comprehends the adaptation of means to ends, will hardly lie found. In early life, his property lay in the middle and more fertile region of South Carolina, where it was impossible for him to raise his family, on account of its sickliness: and the habits of the com munity rendered large expenditures in living, to one of his personal distinction, almost unavoidable. Intent on managing his own affairs, and fearing his chi dreii under his owti eye in habits of frugality and virtue, he sod his laud- in Ablieville District, and removed up to tho hea thy farming lands of Pend t tori. lit re be built bis home : and if any one wbhes to know the secret of his wonderful admin istration in the War Derailment e\hi'st Sicretaryof War, let him go with Mr. ! Calhoun round his farm. None, howev MACON, WEDNESDAY, JULY 5, 1843. er. but an enthusiast in cattle, bees, pou'- try, corn, tfcc., with a pair of well-trainee legs under him, should attempt the en terprise. With his long stick in hand and strides as long, he moves ahead, talk ing all the time, now on a beautiful the ory of agriculture, then on a practical re sult— down in the corn-field, up on th. cotton hill, round the potatoe patch, through the rye lot here is a bubbling spring, there a prospect turn the bill into the pasture, halloo to the pou'trv woman,see to the graftson the apple trees, hive those bees. If a hapless tieopiiy e in these agricultural operations is left any sense, after five or six hours of hard dm - mg, he will decline further courtesy, and take the shortest cut home. Or maun horses with him, he always insisting on taking the hardest going, and see hi marvellous endurance of pummelling, under a hard jog-trot, without apparently feeling its dislocations whilst prying round and round, he gives directions, hastens operations, and scours over the whole farm, talking and acting as if he had never thought of or practised any thing else but the business of a farmer. It has been by such attention and indus try, that he has established the reput tion of being the most practical and success ful farmer in the upper country, and at the same time has supported well, and educated his family. Like Pericles, he has never increased nor diminished his fortune. The gold mine of which so much has been said in the papers, he be came possessed of by an act of parental kindness. His son bought the land., and despairing of making them profita b'e, the father took them o f his hands. He affords a r.tre specimen in our coun try, of one content throughout life with a competency in a cheap country, and has therefore avoided those temptations and speculations which have wrecked the fortunes and happiness of so many mil lions of our countrymen. The truth is, he has too clear and practical a head, not to know the true value of all property. But let us enter the door, at “Fort Hill,” and sec the man in hio domestic habits. His style of living is os plain as possible. Although no ascetic, he has not failed to perceive, that for the most efficient working and improvement ot the mind, the body must be subjected ; and the excessive indulgence in the grosser appetites must soon lead to decay, and not only repress the virtues, but impede the highest growth of the intellectual powers. He is therefore habitually a water drinker, although no m *mbe'r of a temperance society, and eats anything, apparently but little regardful of the qual ity of his food, provided it is.-wholesome. A traveller once visited him at his farm, for a few and ivs. Soon after his arrival, he was invited in to dinner, which con sisted of bacon and its usual accompani ments of vegetables, white corn bread and beautiful butter. “You see,” he observed, “ I am no epicure ; indeed, I am a barbarian, according to the theory of civilization by some French philoso phers, that ii consists in what we eat. But to-morrow, for your sake, we will do better.” Accordingly, the next day brought a sumptuous feast. But it is not merely in disciplining himself to the strictest habits of sobriety, that his virtues con-ist. Self-denial is a powerful, prob ably an indispensable auxiliary to virtue; but it is not necessarily virtue. Activity in good, as well as abstinence from evil, is essential, in all our conceptions of the highest excellence in character. Such, at least, is the opinion of this distinguish ed mail, speaking through his life. We have been informed, by one who has lived m:my years together in his family, and therefore in daily and hourly communi cation with him, that he never saw in him the slightest emotion of anger, or heard from him a harsh expression to a sing'e creature beneath his roof. Always self-possessed, patient, and kind, his gen tle and affectionate nature mingles itself with the existence of all around him. He joys in the instruction, pleasures, and amusements of all; by his presence, chastening, yet by his cheerfulness, heightening and exhilarating their happi ness. That equanimity and buoyancy of temper, which is so remarkable in his public, equally shines out in his private life. Yet his is not the equanimity of the stoic •—a well trained indifference ; nor that of the epicurean —the result of a refined and calculating selfishness; but it is the calm of an abiding consciousness of duty performed, of confidence in truth, and trust in God. Standing one day on the esplanade of the Capitol at Washington, and convers ing with a friend on the subject of a spe cial Providence, he cast his eyes down on the pavement: “ see that stone,” said he; “mark the curious varieties of that spot upon it. There is the stamp of the Deity, for some certain purpose, as p'ain lv as in our features.” “Duty is ours, events belong to God,” he said, on nn eventful and mo t trying occasion in his life. No one who might have seen him on y in the St ate, in the fierce strife of men, stern apparently, among the stem es, could easi’y suppose that he would sit up a’l night with a chi and in his amis, or carry it all day before him on bis .-ad dle into the fields, or was so familiar with his children as to cast himself down, when returning weary from the Senate, rid place his htjad in his daughter’s lap, lidding her tell him of all the diversions md disappointments of the day, and nar ating his own. That to be great in lit !e things is proverbially to be contempt ble, may lie the reflection of a stern, told-bloodad philosophy ; lut is not the greatest greatness that which ministers nost to the happiness of others ? The nan of great events only is like the iwo id, which may rust away in its seab oard ; but the every day contributor to he happiness of tho e around him, is like the homely sickle, whose edge grows sharper by use, anti feeds the world. In his intercourse with men, Mr. Cal houn’s manners are those of his clime md section —warm, simple, frank and impressive. Os that politeness which cinsists in leaving false impressions that men may be pleased with us, because we can make them p’eased with themselves, he has none. His direct truthfulness leaves no room for hypocrisy. Hence, although all admire, but few, on a trans ient intercourse, love him. He speaks too much to the head. He seems in his conversation to be surrounded with an atmosphere of lucid thought, like a clear sky in a frosty night, and often in pro portion as the head is pressed with truth, the heart is chilled. Indeed, he call hardly be said to converse, because con versation implies an interchange of ideas. He discourses rather, pouring out his riches of original thought in such close language, that the attention of his hear ers is often wearied and the comprehen sion at fault. Whilst rapidly stringing his consequences, link after link, to a member of Congress, and seeing hesita tion in his eye, he put in his usual quick e;t ptiry with which his conversation is interspersed, “ Yon understand /” “ No,” replied the member, relieving himself with a long sigh, “I den’t understand, nor can I ever understand while you talk so closely.” He once messed with a Senator in Washington, and ?o incessant was the operation of his mind, and so la borious the attention necessary to keep up with and comprehend his thoughts, I that the Senator changed his lodgings. I On being asked why he had removed, lie replied, “ to escape thought and Mr. Cal houn.” Os course, he has no wit in con versation. Wit, if not falsehood, is too often truth in travesty or exaggeration ; and the essence of things presses too heav ily on such a mind, to admit of trilling on its grave realities. He can also pos sess no poetry in lus composition; at least, none such as men in books call poetry. Yet there is n cheerful hopelessness —a ' burning enthusiasm for the high desti nies of man, especially as connected with I our forms of free government, which no- - ver wearies in its tlig it through time and I nature, looking ever upward and rejoic-! ing in its anticipated consummation, off “ peace on earth and good will towards j men.” It is this enthusiasm—thisititen- sity in every thing connected with our Government, which hits occasioned the sneer, that with him, every turn of pub lic affairs, is a “crisis.” Hi looks to fu turity, as if it were present; and, con scious of his mighty powers, s|>eaks as if he grasped it. Events and the questions they evolve, press more weightily upon him than on other men, because ho sees further into their consequences. Ilis zeal for truth, his long experience in government, which tenches him that ev ery movement of its complex machinery is big with indefinite after results, cannot tie estimated or understood by shallow political foplings, or unprincipled charla tans. ’l’he question with then) is often merely a personal one—“ How shall I be affected ?”—“ What shall 1 gain ?” or it is a question of immediate effects only; for they can see no further. But with him, the question is, the country ; and what is its whole effect, immediate and remote—but especially its remote, which, like the ocean's wave, is often most fatal and violent in its recoil. This intensity and self-abandonment in public aff'iirs, has also rendered him obnoxious to the charge of being too indifferent to results, when fatal to his friends. When stand ing, according to his conception, in the way of his public duty, he rides over them remorselessly; and great public measures seem to absorb ail his private sympathies. The charge is not without truth. No man who enjoys his friend ship, need expect that his private esteem and affection will control his public course ; but it is not true, whatever may lie external appearances, that he does not deeply deplore the loss or fall of friends. He has seemed unmoved, because he has felt himself to bo the victim ; and the al tar at which he served, required a cheer ful sacrifice. It is hard to gain, and hard er still to give confidence ; and to see it broken at a blow, by one fierce current of political events ; dashing into collis ion and strife those who' once “took sweet counsel together,” is indeed the most wretchid of all life’s experiences; hut can it le avoided, if the supreme principle is tho country’s good l Tue ties ot friendship—the esteem ol a 1 men —file itself, we doubt not, are nothing in 'Mr. Ca homi’s estimation, to tho perma nent establishment of the great prificip e ol free government, through the mighty experiment ot our FeGerai t on ti iilit.ii, lor which he has lived,and stritggad so more than a quarter of a century. We havc heard him say so, with an eye so bright and calm, and lips so firm and pale not in crowds or in the Senate chamber, but in the solitude of personal communion that to doubt him, were to outrage nature and wrong our being. He has shewn too often the spirit of the martyr, in his many reverses in public life, for any one to question his posses sing it; and when he saw that the way was dark and perilous, there are many who can testify to the earnestness with which he implored his friends, it consist ent with their own views of duty, to a baitdoji him, and permit him to trend it alone. Most assuredly, he has not been more reckless of olhers, than of himself, in his political career. If power, not right distinction, not usefulness, had been his aim, who doubts, that long since he would have obtained all that popularity could have bestowed in a Republic i But the struggle of his life has been, not to use our system of Government, or lift himself by its abuses, and correcting its dangerous and dissolv ing tendencies. In pursuing this end, he lias been stern to friends and foes; and the former have probably contribu ted as the latter, in swaying his policy. Had he been otherwise, however, lie might have had troops of friends, (who long since abandoned him,) while falling into the “sere and yellow leaf’ of age, and have revelled in honors ; but he would not have been what he is —a man , in the midst of political profliga cy and corruption , fit to reform and save a great Republic. Our readers will easily infer from what we have said, that Mr. Calhoun is no politician, in the sense the term is gener ally used. Ha neither understands how to sti ing the wires, nor to pull them. Despising indirection and trickery of all kinds, he wields but one weapon for suc cess in his measures and ascendancy in his councils, and that is—outright, down right, naked truth. Yet it might have been fortunate for him, if only for the purposes of defence, had he possessed more of that art, which, in public affairs, produces results, whilst affecting to lie indifferent or opposed to them, secretly instigates and combines instruments mid causes, and when the effect is produced, cries out “Behold the people!” All art and concealment in conducting the affairs of a Republic are contrary to its genius and spirit. Dissembling and arti fice are the mean resorts of conscious un worthincss or med bated treachery to the people, and may suit co irts or harems ; but are not favorable to tint just appreci ation by the people of public men and public measures, which are absolutely necessary for their proper control, lie who loves them, and confides in their capacity for self-government, will deal openly and fairly with them. H wiil plant himself on the great principles of truth and lilierty, and if he fails to con vince the people that these require his po'icv to prevail, he will doubt his own abi ity to enforce the n, or deprecate the nil wo rttiy sophistries which obscure them from their eyes, but lie will doubt not the people. He will wait in hope —in pa tience he will possess his soul. lie will go down, if necessary, beneath the peo ple’s wrath ; confident that their sense of justice and correct appreciation of their interests and honor, will ere long, lift him up again, and even for his humilia tions they will remember him. This is Statesmanship. This is true patriotism. To serve the people when they serve you —to magnify them when they exalt you to laud their omnipotence when their omnipotence is your glory, and their favor your crown ; is an easy task, tliat repqys sweetly in the performance. But to dare to be right when the people are wrong, and to face them in frowns— to serve on when your services are slight ed or scorned—to feel their power press ing down so your ruin, whilst bad men and bad counsels hurry them oil in a ca reer of folly and iniquity—to sec that purest reward of a high ambition, (“ the last infirmity of noble minds,”) yourgood nam'*, belied tra rtpled on and cursed and yet to hold on—calmly, cheerfully, and hopefully to hold on to the truth and hold it up and push it on, inch by inch, until it moves and spreads and flames in the popular mind, and saves the laud, this is statesmanship ; this is true patriotism. The politician knows no thing of it, and perhaps despises it. II e laughs in his sleeve at the simplicity and folly of those whom, by his intrigues and measures, he may have driven into such desperate experiments on the popular in telligence. Personal success is his prin ciple, and expediency in all measures (excepting where profession < of principle are expedient,) is his unscrupulous in strument to win his way. The states man stands ou great principles of liberty and government, and knows no success but in their ascendancy, and no reward but in the blessings they impart to the country. Ne.-d we say to oar reader:;, that the statesman, as we have depicted him in character and late, is John C. i a h inn. S icli is the man we npho’d for the first office in the gift of the poop e of these United .States, whom he has served for hirty-pue years consecutively in the councils of the Union. Ot these servi ces, although affording a brilliant chap- w. a. at c. thoxtsox —publishers. I NO. 8. ter for biography, we propose to say no thing. They extend over a long space, through the most trying incidents, aid stirring public events—from the last war, the declaration of which he penned, to his splendid career for the last ten years lin the Senate of the United States. l)u- I ring so long a course of public services, of course be has committed errols ; and it is possible that we are so feminine in our attachment as to love him the more for these very errors. They bring him nearer on a level with us in our common nature, whilst his moral excellencic draw him warmly to our hearts. \Y uphold him for the Presidency, not mere ly because we admire the statesman, but because we love the man. No one who has occupied, or pretended to occupy the Presidential chair, if our conception of his character is correct, can approach him in his domestic traits. Washington, in his personal dignity and puremor.it, grandeur, stood like the solitary eagle on lie mountain peak. The clouds of hit man tenderness and passion, moved.fur below him. Madison was correct, amia ble and kind. Monroe was blunt, yet considerate and honorable. But neither Washington, Madison i or Monroe had children —and the hidden but gushing streams of parental love never flowed over and softened their natures. Os otit er living men wiio have occupied or as pired to the Presidency, we will say no thing, although we might say a groat deal m commendation. We wish to set in the White House the same virtue which make the cottage happy. W wish to see in ihe Presidency those prii ciples of morality, which bring order and peace every where actively bearing on all its duties. On these principles, not only the happiness, but the liberties of the people depend. Without them, in the high places of power and dominion, the. rights and interests of the people are ren dered subordinate to the ambition of un principled aspirants ; and to gamble them away— to profess, and falsify professions to seem to do, yet not to do to have, measures without principles, and abuses without correction, and expediency in everything; an 1 clear decided honesty in nothing becomes the model of states manship, and the habitual but contcmpt ib.e practices of public men. Republics arc built on the higher virtues, and the people must have them actively engaged jn the administration of their affairs, or their liberties must fall. Give us hones ty m our government, and give us ener gy and courage to make honesty rule without being duped, and effectual in ail its departments, without regard to conse quences. Then if errors are committed, errors will correct themselves. Good measures will produce all their good ; and had ones be bereft of half their evil. Confidence, now long lost, will once more return amongst us; confidence in our rulers will give us confidence in each other; and an abiding sense that truth, justice, and the fear of God, reign in our national councils, will bring repose and peace to our distracted and suffering country. A i.rent Ham. Messrs. Blum 6c Cobia presented us last week with one of R. W. Lee's cele brated sugar cured Hams, flavored after the manner of the Westphalia—which we have found of exquisite quality—cer tainly fully equal, we think superior to any specimen of the real German article we have ever met with, and deserving all the praise that could he bestowed on any Ham ever placed upon the board—come from what quarter it may. Chas. Mer. Romantic luciient. It will be remembered that ft little boy | named Clark disappeared on the day of the launch, and much reason existed to believe that he was drowned. After sev eral days of agonizing suspense, his pa rents, residing in Shippcn-street, near Ninth, were confirmed in this belief, by intelligence which placed the matter be yond doubt. None but parents can ima gine their distress and anguish. While they were plunged in the deepest sorrow, a stranger, apparently a seaman, arrived at their house. He enquired if they had not lost a son, and stated that he had re covered the body,which he had picked up while on his way to Burlington. He was the captain cf a sloop trading to that place. It was some comfort to the poor people to obtain even the dead body of their child, and they accordingly expressed their grat itude to the waterman. But a most joy ful surprise awaited the father and moth er. W hile the kind and considerate .cap tain was pondering on some mode of communicating by degrees, information which he knew must be given cautious ly, the little son who had been waiting without and could restrain himself no longer, rushed into his mother’s arms. He had been taken up alive by the cap tain of the sloop, soon after the capsizing of the boat in which he had been station ed to see the launch. The sudden tran sition from grief to boundless joy almost proved, fatal to the poor woman. She tainted on the spot, and it was several hours before she was prepared to realize her h ippine s in the recovery of a child w lich she had supposed lost to her for ever. The father was scarcely less ailbet ed. Phil. Mercury.