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AMBIIOIN ißMiillf.
ihe most perfect Gove nine t lvouid be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs lesst—f’osts least—Disp uses Justice to all and confers Privileges on None.—BENTIIAM.
VOL. Li DU. WM. GKKEJf - EDITOR.
Ai4.Sf.IOA:; DSIICOP.AT. ;
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A CAPITAL SKETCH
BY LEVEH.
O'Kelly having one evening lost him
self in the narrow stteets and dangerous
purlieus of the “Isle St. Louis,” in Paris,
the following adventure occurred to him: )
A tall figure, wrapped up in a cloak,
produced a tinder hox, and began to
clink deliberately with a steel and flint.
Everv flash showed me some savage
looking face, where crime and famine
struggled for mastery, while I could mark
that many had laryre clubs of wood, and
one or two were armed with swords. I
drew my breath with short efforts, and
was preparing myself for the struggle, in
which, though I saw death before me, I
resolved to sell life dearly, when a hand
was passed across the pillar of the door
and rested on my leg. For a second it
never stirred ; then slowly moved up to
my knee, where it stopped again. .My
heart seemed to cease its beating; I felt
like one around whose body some snake
is coiling fold after fold his slimy grasp.
The hand was gently withdrawn, and
before 1 could recover from my surprise,
I was seized by the throat and hurled
out into the street. A savage laugh rang
through the crowd, and a lantern just
lighted was held up to my face, while he j
who spoke first called out—
‘You didn’t dream of escaping us, beta,
did you V at the same moment hands
were thrust into my various pockets;
the few silver pieces l possessed were ta
ken ; my watch torn off, my hat exam
ined, and the lining of my coat ripped
opened, and all so speedily that 1 saw at
once I had fallen into experienced hands.
“Where do you live in Paris?” said
the first speaker, still holding ihe light
to my face, and staring fixedly at me
while 1 answeri and.
“I am a stranger and alone,” said I,
for the thought struck me, that in such
a circumstance frankness was as good
policy as any other. “ I came here to
see the cathedral, and lost my way in re
turning.”
“But where do you live? in what
quarter of Paris?”
“The Rue d'Alger, No. 14, the second
story.”
“What effects have you therein mon
ey ?”
“One English banknoteforfivepounds;
nothing more.”
“Any jewels, or valuables of any
kind?” (
“None; lam as poor ns any man in
Paris."
“Does the porter know your name in
the house ?”
No ; 1 am only known as the English
man of No. 14.”
“What are your hours?—irregular,
are they not?”
“Yes ; 1 often come home very late.”
“That’s all right. You speak French
very well. Can you write it ?”
“Yes ; sufficiently so for any common
pn rpose.”
Here then, said he, opening a large
pocket-book, “write an order for which
I’ll tell you, to the concierge, of the house.
Take this pen.”
With a trembling hand I took the pen,
and waited for his direction.
w ls it a woman who keeps the door of
> r our hotel ?”
“Yes,” said I.
"“Well, then, begin—Madame In Con
verge, let the hearer of this note have
the key of my apartment.”
As I lollowed with my hand the words,
* could mark that one of the party was
'vnispering in the ear of the sjteaker. and
then moved slowly around to my back.
DEMOCRATIC BANNER - FREE TRADE; LOW DUTIES; NO DEBT; SEPARATION PROM BANKS; ECONOMY; RETRENCHMENT;
AND A STRICT ADHERENCE TO THE CONSTITUTION.--./ C. C.1..U1H.Y.
“Hush, what’s that ?” cried the chief
I speaker—‘Be still there ;’ and as we lis
| toned, the rich chorus of a number of
voices singing in parts, was heard at
some little distance off’.
“This infernal nest of fellows must he
rooted out of this, one day or other,”
said the chief; ‘and if I end my days on
tin- Place de ia Drove, Pll try and do it.
Hush there—be still—they’re passing
on ;” true enough, ihe sound began to
wax fainter, and my heart sank heavily,
as I thought the last hope was leaving
I me ; suddenly a thought dashed through
my mind—death in one shape is as had
as another. I’ll do it—l stooped down
as if to continue my writing, and then
collecting my strength for the effort, and
taking a deep breath, 1 struck the man
in front a blow with all my might, that
felled him to the ground, and clearing
him with a spring, bounded down the
street. My old Indian teaching had done
me good service here ; few u bite men
could have caught me in an open plain,
with space and sight to guide me, and 1
gained at every stride ; but alas, 1 dared
not stop to listen whence the sounds pro
ceeded, and con and only dash straight for
ward, not knowing where it might lead
me, down a steep rugged street, that
grew narrower as I went. I plunged
when, horror of. horrors, I heard the
Seine plashing at the end; the rapid
current of the river surged against the
heavy timbers that defended the banks
with a sound like a death-wail.
A solitary trembling light lay afar off
in the river from some barge that was at
anchor there; I fixed my eye upon it
and was preparing for a plunge, when,
with a half-suppressed cry, my pursuers
sprang up from a low wharf I had not
seen below the quay, and stood in front
of me ; in an instant they were upon me,
a shower of blows fell < n my head and
shoulders, and one, armed with desperate
resolution, stuck me on the forehead and
felled me on the spot.
“Be quick, now, he quick !” said a
voice I well knew—“ into the river with
him; the filets de St. Cloud will catch
him by day break, into the river with
him.”
They tore off my coat and shoes, and
dragged me along towards the wharf;
my senses were clear, though the blow
laid deprived me of all power to resist,
and 1 con Id calculate the little chance
stili left me, when once I had reached
the river, when a loud yell and a whistle
was heard afar off—another, louder fol
lowed—the fellows around me sprang to
their legs, and with a muttered curse and
a cry of terror, darted off’ in different di
rections. I could hear now several pis
tol shots following quick on each other,
and the noise of a scuffle with swords;
in ail instant it was over, and a cheer
burst forth like a cry of triumph.
“Any one wounded there?’ shouted a
deep manly voice from the end of the
street. 1 endeavored to call out, but my
voice fai’ed me.
“Halloa there, any one wounded?”;
said the voice again, when a window
was opened over w*y head, and a man
held a candle oat, and looked into the
street.
“This way, this way,” said he, as he
caught sight of my shadow where 1 lay.
“Ay, I guessed they went down here,”
said the same voice l heard first, as he
came along, followed by several others.
“Well, friend, are you much hurt; any
blood lost ?”
No, only stunned,” said I, “and al
most well already.”
“Have you any friends here—were
you quite alone ?”
sSI “Yes ; quite alone.”
“Os course you were—why shotdd I
ask? That murderous gang never dar
ed to lace two m n yet. Come, are yon
able to walk ? Oh, you’re a stout fellow,
I see—come along with us. Come, Lud
wig, put a hand under him, and we’ll
soon bring him up.”
When they lifted me up, the sudden
motion caused a weakness so complete,
that I fainted, and knew little more of
of their proceeding-, {ill I found myself
lying on a sofa in a large low room
where some forty persons were seated at
a long table, most of them smoking from
huge pipes of regular German propor
tions.
“Where am I?” was my question, as I
looked about and perceived that the par
ty wore a kind of blue uniform, with fur
on the collar and cuffs, and a grey-hound
worked in gold on the arm.
“Why, you’re safe, my good friend,”
said a voice beside me—“that’s quite
enough to know at present, is’nt it ?”
“1 begin to agree with you,” said I,
I coolly, arid so, turning round on my side,
1 closed my eyes, and fell into ns pleas
ant a sleep as ever 1 remember in my
life.
They were, indeed, a very singular
class of restoratives which my kind
friends thought proper to administer to
me; nor am l quite sure that a barca
role of chocolate, dashed with rum and
j friction over the face, with hot can de
Cologne , are sufficiently appreciated I v
the “faculty,” but this Itlo know, that 1
! felt very much revived by the application
! without and within, and with a face
! somewhat the color of a copper preserv
; ing pan, and far too hot to put any tiling
1 on, I sat up and looked about me. A
MACON, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1843.
merrier set of gentlemen not even my
experience had ever beheld. They were
mostly middle-aged, griziy-looking fel
lows, with very profuse beards and mous
tacliios; their conversation was partly
French, partly German, here and there
a stray Italian diminutive crept in—and
to season the whole, like cayenne in a
ragout , there was an odd curse in En<r
lish.
Their dress, their free and easy man
ner, their intimacy with each other, and
above all, the locale they had chosen for
their festivities, made me, I own, a little
suspicious about their spotless morality,
and 1 began conjecturing to what possi
ble calling they might belong; now
guessing them to l e smugglers—now,
police of some kind or other—now, high
waymen outright, but without being able
to come to any conclusion that even ap
proached satisfaction. The more 1 lis
tened, the more did my puzzle grow on
me ; that they were the most distinguish
ed and exalted individuals, or the most
confounded story-tellers was certain.
Here was a fat greasy little fellow, with a
beard like an Armenian, who was talk
ing of a trip to be made to Greece with
the Duke of !snxe Weimar; apparently
they were on the best terms together,
and bad a most jolly time of it. There
was a large handsome man, with short
black moustache, describing a night at-1
tack by wolves, made on the caravan he 1
wag j n during a journey to Siberia. I
j listened with intense interest to his nar {
rative; the scenery, the danger, the prep
aration for defence, had all those little
traits that bespoke truth, when, confound
him, he destioyed the whole in a mo
ment as he said “At that moment, the
Archduke Nicholas said to me”—the
Archduke Nicholas, indeed—very good
that—he’s just as great a liar as the
other.
“Come,” thought I, “there’s a respect
able-looking old fellow with a bald head;
let us hear him; there’s no boasting of
the great people he never met with, from
that one, I'm sure.”
“We were now coming near to Vien
na,” continued he, “the night was dark
as pitch, when avidette came up to say
that a party of brigands, well known
thereabouts, were seen hovering about
the post station the entire evening. We
were well armed, but still by no means
numeious, and it became a grave ques
tion what we were to do ? I got down
immediately and examined the loading
and priming of the carbines—they were
all right, nothing had been stirred.
“W hat’s the matter ?” said the duke.
“Oh,” said I, “ then there's a duke
here also.”
“What’s ihe matter?” said the Duke
of Wellington,
“Oh, by Jove ! that beats all,” cried 1,
jumping up on the sofa, and opening
both my hands with astonishment. “I'd
have wagered a trifle on that little fel
low, and hang me if he isn't the worst
of the whole set.”
“Wt lat’s the matter—what’s happen
ed ?” said they, all turning round in a
mazement at my sudden exclamation;
“is the man mad ?”
“It’s hard to say,” replied I; “but if
Tin not, yoil must be, unless I have the
honor, which is perfectly possible, to he
at this moment in company with the
Ho y Ahiunee; for so help me, since
I’ve sat here and isten and to you, there
is not a crOwued-head in Europe, not a
queen, notan archduke, ambassador and
generai-in-chief, some of you have not
been intimate with; and the small man
with the red beard has just let slip some-.
tiling about the Shaft of Persia.
The torrent of laughter that shook the
table, never ceased for lull a quarter of
an hour. Old and young, smooth and
grizly, they laughed till their faces were ;
seamed with rivulets, like a mountain in j
winter, and when they would endeavor |
to address me, they’d burst out as fresh !
as ever.
“Come over and join us, worthy j
friend,” said lie, who sat at the head of j
the hoard, “you seem well equal to it;
and perhaps our character as men of
truth may improve on acquaintance.”
“What in Heaven’s name are you ?”
said I.
Another burst of merriment was the
only r ply they made me. 1 never found
such difficulty in making my way ill
certain classes of society where th e tqpo
was a familiar one; whore a bon-mot
was a good currency, and a joke passed
we) . 'here [ was at home and to assume
the features of tfie party was with me a
kind of instinct which 1 could not avoid.
It cost me neither effort nor strain—l
caught up the spirit as a child catches up
an accent, and wont the pace as pleas
antly as though 1 had been bred among
them. I was therefore but a short time
at table when by way of matriculation.
I deemed it necessary to relate a story ;
and certainly if they had astounded me
by the circumstances of either high and
mighty acquaintances, I did not c.pare
them in my narrative, in which the Ern
! peror of China figured as a very coin
! mon-place individual, and the King of
j Candia came in just incidentally as a
| rather dubious acquaintance might do.
j For a time they listened [ike people
who are well accustomed to give and
i take these kind of miracles; but when 1
mentioned something about a game of
leap-frog on the walls of China with tin
celestial himself, a perfect shout of in
credulous laughter interrupted me.
“Well,” said I, “don't believe me il
you don’t liKe ; but here 1 have been th
whole evening listening to you, and ii
have not bolted as much as that, m
name’s not Con O’Kelly.”
But it is not necessary to tell you how
step by step, they led me to credit a
they were saying, hut actually to tell m\
own real story to them, which ldid fron
beginning lo end down to the very mo
ment l sat there, with a large glass o.
hot claret before me, as happy as uiigh
be.
“And you really are so low in purse ?’
said one.
“And you have no prospect of any oc
cupation, nor any idea of a livelihood 7”
cried another.
‘Just as much as I expect promotion
from my friend the Emperor of China,”
said I.
“You speak French and German well
enough, though ?”
“And a smattering of Italian,” said I.
“Come, you’ll do admirably ; be one
of us.”
“Might t make hold enough to ask
what trade that is ?”
“You don’t know J you can’t guess
even.”
“Not eVen guess,” said I, “except you
report for the papers, and come here to
nmke up the news.”
“Something better than that, I hope,”
said the man at the head of the table.—
“What think you of a life that leads a
man about the world from Norway to Je
rusalem—that shows him every land the
1 sun shines on, and every nation on the
globe, travelling with every luxury that
can make a journey easy and a road
pleasant; enables him to visit whatever
is remarkable in every city of the uni
verse ; to hear Pasta at St. Petersburgh
in the winter, and before the year ends
to see an Indian war-dance among the
red men of the Rocky Mountains; to sit !
beneath the shadow of the Pyramids, as j
it were to-day, and ere two months be j
over, to stand in the spray of Tolhatan,
and join a wolf-chase through the pine ;
forests of the north ; and not only this, 1
but to have opportunities of seeing life
on terms the most intimate; that society
should lie unvieled to an extent that few ,
men of any station can pretend to; to
converse with the greatest and the wis
est, the most distinguished in rank, age,
and better than all, the most beautiful
women of every land in Europe, who
depend on your word, rely on your infor
mation, and permit a degree of intimacy
which in their own rank is unattainable;
to improve your mind by knowledge of
languages, acquaintance with works of
art, scenery, and more still, by habits of,
intelligence which habit bestows.”
“And to do this,” said 1, burning with
impatience at a picture that realized all |
that I wished for, “to do this ”
“Bea courier,” said thirty voices in a |
cheer.—“ Vive la Grande Route,” and
with the word each man drained his glass j
to the bottom.
“Vive la Grande Route,” exclaimed I, |
louder than the rest; “and here I join I
you.”
From that hour I entered on a career
that each day 1 follow is become dearer
tome. It is true, 1 sit in the --nimble of
the carriage, while monscigntvr or mv
lord reclines within; but would 1 ex
change his ennui and depression for my j
own iight-heartedness and jollity ! would
I give up the happiness and independ
ence of all the intrigue and plotting ofo
the world l enjoy, tor his rank and sta
tion ? Does not Mount Blanc look as
grand in his hoary panoply to me, as to
him? -If 1 wander through the gallery;
of Dresden have I not the sweet smile of j
the great Raphael’s Madonna bent on
me as blandly as it is on him ? Is not
mine host, with less of ceremony, far |
more cordial to me than to him ? Is not
mine a rank known, and acknowledged; j
in every town, in every village? Have |
1 not a greeting wherever l pass ? Shou cl
sickness overtake me, where have 1 not
a home ? Where am I among strangers?
Then, what care I for the bill ?—mine is
a royal route where 1 never nay. And
lastly, how olten is the soubrette of the
rumble as a companion as the
P”’e c,'ucl care worn lady within?
Such is my life. Many would scog
and call it menial. Let them if they will.
I never felt it so ; and once more I say,
“Vive la Grand Route !”
Progress of Catholism. —Tlie Alton
[l!liuois]jTeJlegrapli of the fifth iiist. says
—“There are four Roman Catholic
churches in progress of erection or com
pletion in this State at the present time,
th;»t we know of; one at Chicago, one at
Edwardsville, in the same county, mid
one at Shawnetown.”
Dr. Johnson,when in the fulness of yenrs
and knowledge, said, “I never take tip a
newspaper without finding something
that I should have deemed it a loss not to
have seen ; never without deriving from
it instruction and amusement.”
Many nien have become great through
having first become little; you seldom
see a man jump to any height, without
stooping when he takes the ypring.
From the Albaiiy (N. V) Argus.
O’CONNELL AND BBOUGHAM.
Brougham has been long noted for his
ivage and unsparing sarcasm. Eng
md’s greatest statesmen have writlied
mder his shafts. Even Canning, who
vielded the most polished irony of any
uemberofthe British Parliament, dread
d the gloomy and sarcastic Brougham.
Phis literary magnate seems now to have
iet with his match, in the person of
Daniel O Connell. He retorts upon the
Ex-Chancellor the coarseness and sever
ity of manner, which the former has not
always avoided in his personal denun
ciations. We do not admire the taste of
these exhibitions: but the Liberator
seems to handle the bowie knife of sar
casm with the gusto that shows that he
likes the subject, and a cool ferocity that
manifests an utter fearlessness of conse
quences.
At a Repeal meeting in Dublin, on the
11th of August,
O'Connell observed that he could not
close without adverting to that old worn
out stump of a Brougham—the misera
ble rotten remnant of what Brougham
was—(laughter.) The poor old man had
proposed a healing measure one day and
abandoned it the next. He really thought
it would he advisable to address the
House of Lords, mid suggest that his
lordship be requested M go to Father
Mathew and take the pledge before he
again addressed the house; then there
might be some chance of his remaining
consistent for a day or two, and not con
tradicting himself—(cheers). But he
(Mr. O’Connell) should spare the repor
ters for tomorrow at Tara, and he would
thereforefcinove that it be referred to the
committee to consider whether there were
any legal means of addressing the House
of I .ords to request that Lord Brougham
be compelled to take the pledge—(cheers
and laughter.)
The Ex Chancellor must wince When
he reads that, or he lias lost all sensibil
ity. To l>e stigmatized as a drunkard,
in the presence of millions of people, is
certainly not a comfortable resting place
for an honorable posthumous fame.
O’Connell at the same time, gave Wel
lington a severe lunge. He dubbed him
“the scolding old Duke,” with an inuen*
do at his avarice and cruelty.
Mr. O’Connell, after eulogising the
peaceful movement of the masses, adver
ted to the scolding old duke, who, he said,
ought to tuqa good judge of plundering
after the scenes he had taken a part in at
Cuidad Rodrigo, Badajos, and St. Sebas
tian, where rapine, murder, and every
fiendish crime revel led untrammelled—
(hear.) These atrocities were perpetra
ted upon those whom England professed
to defend. Well, what had the duke
done? lie had threatened the people of
Ireland, and they laughed at him. Ho
next took to scolding, and he (Mr. O’Con
nell) hoped he would continue at that—
[a laugh.]
o‘Connell, like all great" leaders, it
seems, is a particular admirer of pretty fa
ces, and with the tact of an experienced
politician, he omits no opportunity to
Hatter the Irish women, well knowing
when he gains woman’s good will and j
warm-hearted exertions, the Ball of Re- j
peal will roll on with the power of an i
avalanche. At Mountmellick, the Or
angemen. instinctive haters of O’Connell,
thought they would have their revenge,
and mortify him in his most sensitive
point. How think you they did this?—
They simply hired seven ugly women
to hiss him. This is sufficiently ludi
crous to say the least. But the Liberator
did not seem to relish this slight, and so,
in his speech at Dublin, he gave it the
following consequence:
There are three or four old Orangemen
in the town of Mountmellick, who wove
actually obliged to get drunk in order to
revive in their minds their former prej
udices, and My if they con’d screw up
their courage ton pitch sufficient to man
ifest these prejudges by offering me some
insult; but even though they did get
drunk, ti'fey could not execute their pur-
themselves. But what do you think
Vncy did ? They went and hired seven
of the ugliest women in the whole town,
and placed them in a window near where
I passed by, and there they hissed like
old ganders, and made wry faces at me
as if endeavoring to make themselves ug
lier than they were—[laughter.] Now 1
solemnly declare that seven such ugly
women I never saw before, and as five of
them were young I Was astonished to
think they could have found them in
Ireland—[cheers and laughter.] They
hissed and put out their tongues as I
passed, and the tongue of a sucking calf
with buttermilk on it could not bn uglier
[continued laughter.] Well, in oppo
sition to these seven ugly women. I place
the thousands of handsome and lovely
beings, who smiled upon us as we passed
along, and I ask whether three or four
drunken ornngemen and the seven ugly
women had half as good a bargain of it
as we had?
Mahogany Furniture. —Spots on ma
hogany furniture, says the Boston Mer
cantile, caused by cologne water, or nl
chohoi in any form, may be immediately
removed, and the place turned to its orig
inal color and beauty, by the application
of a few drops of oil. We believe this
to tea wre restorer. Try it!
;NO 22.
From ilia CharlsstOfi Mercury.
IMPORTANT LEGAL DECISION AT SAVANNAH
The long pending cause of the late YV'm. Wight
man of this city, against John J. Dewes, late sheriff
of Chatham county, Ga, to recover a sum of money
detained by the sheriff as fees of office, for dieting
negroes ljvied upon by him, but not actually taken
into custody, has, after many years, been concluded
i>y his Honor Charles S. Henry, Judge of the Supe
rior Court at Savannah. By this decree a nevv trial
is refused, and the verdict of the jury given in May
last affirmed. From the inijsjrtance of the main
question involved, to the State of Georgia, the cas*
became one of great interest. It was tried three
times-the jury having twice made a mis-trial. The
main point was—whet her a sheriff, levying on the
negroes of a defendant, but not removing them, cr
putting them in gaol, ran leg»lly eiact the per diem
allowance given by law to jailers lor hlaek person*
conlincd in jail—or is only to be allowed his actual
disbursements. For the sheriff it was contended,
that ~s he incurs the risk of escape, the diet fee is a
compensation fur the hazard —but the reply was, that
diet is not a premium of insurance—it is an equiva
aiciit lor loud iurnished and is reimburse —and
if no food is furnished, none shoulJ be paid for. That
the custody of goods levied on is compensated by ths
jioundago or per centage. The advocates of the sher
iff contended, it was humane to permit the negroes to
remain at home till the day of sale, but the sheriff
would not do so, unless he received an equivalent;
anil the wage had been to claim diet fees as a com
pensation lor this act of humanity. It was replied
that this was paying an extraordinary as well as ar
bitrary price for an act of humanity—that a forthcom
ing bund, when required, was sufficient security, and
cost nothing. But the conclusive ground was ths
statute of Georgia, |>o.4tively prohibiting any charge
lor “services not rendered.” This law, faithfully
enforced, was decisive. Some decisions, not well
considered, had given countenance to the sheriffs in
making this charge, which amounted in this case to
between lour and five thousand dollars. But the
Grand Jury or first tribunal under the laws of Geor
gia, at last gave a decisive blow to the illegal prac
tice. They rendered a verdi.t for the amount detain
ed by the sheriff, and eight per cent, interest, the
plaintiff' waiving the residue of the 20 percent, allow
ed by law, against sheriff s. Various technical grounds,
not affecting tile main question, wers urged, on a
motion lor anew trial. But Judge Henry, in an
elaborate opinion, overruled them all, and sustained
tne verdict us legal and just. By the present ar
rangement this opinion will be published by the Gov
ernor, who collects and publishes all the decisions of
the Judges, thus beginning a systematic report of de
cided cases lor Georgia; and Judge Henry’s deere#
will do him honor for its learning, its sound legal
morality and the integrity with which he has carried
out the wise provisions of the Legislature, in confin
ing public officers to their exact and specified charge
only. Such decisions must command the respect of
the public, both at home and abroad, and especially
is south Carolina interested, as our Southern fron
tier connects our citizens intimately in the relations
of business, and the decresss of Georgia Courts ars
therefore important. In this case a citizen of South
Catolina sued an officer of the Georgia Courts, in
his own District, and the impartial and honorable
bearing of tlie J ury and tlie Court, is in keeping with
the character of our enlightened and high toned
neighbors. Judge Henry’s opinion is too extensive
for insertion in a daily paper, but it will be read in
the reports as an elaborate and able disquisition of
the points so thoroughly argued by the distinguished
counsel of the sheriff. The case was conducted by
Col. Hunt, of Charleston and Messrs. McAllister
and Cohen, of Savannah, for the plaintiff—Wight
man—and by thu lion. John M. Berrien and Judge
Charlton for defendant, the sheriff. Although 'Geor
gia has no Appeal Court, her admirable jury system,
and the discretion of the Judge as to new trials, ob
viate much of tlie difficulties arising front that source.
South Carolina has partially adopted the principle of
objecting to the jury. In South Carolina each party
set abiJe two. In Georgia, appeals are heard by a
stitick or select jury—drawn from the Grand Jury.
Ibe whole pamiel i presented anil the parties alter
nately stoke off one, until ’out twelve remain, who
constitute Ge jury—thus each party throws off any
obnoxious individual and an impartial p&nnel is se
cured.
1 lie requiring the Judge ;o sen J his opinions to tho
Governor to be printed, will collect a body of legal
decisions and gradually harmonize into a system.
T he very difficulty of tire problem what constitutes a
proper Appeal Court in the last resort 1 has delayed
any action so far, still Georgia has now a bettor basis
to work upon than our own State, which still pre
sents the absurdity of tiro Coprts of final appellate
jurisdiction, sating at tiie same lime. The U. State*
system with the Georgia plan of struck Juries, would
embody more advantages—and fewer objection able
features than any other. The. perfect want of prin
ciple in leaving each of our Appeal Courts at liberty
to decide whether the unsuccessful party shall b«
allowed to go to the Court of Errors, defeats all the
objects of that tribunal. Each. Court is jealous of
calling in the ot'in —and so cases only reach the high
est tribunal ujxvn compulsion.
A CAROLINA LAWYER.
A costly TRorirv. —\Vc find tire following in one
of Mr. Weed’s Letters from England:
The dining ball at Chelsea hospital is hang with
trophy colors and standards, from the Duke of Marl
boro's victorious battle of Blenheim, to the inglorious
butcheries of the British army in China. Among
these emblems of British valor, arc the sanguinnr;
evidences that England has been at war with almost
all the nations of the cartli. There are threo stand:
ot American colors displayed in the hall. One w: =
taken at Washington. I could not learn the history
of the other two : but an old veteran, who heard no -
inquiring, came up and remarked that he heard >
pensioner, who was in the fight when one of tin ■
was taken, say 11 that stand of colors cost more Brit
Bit blood than any other stand of colors in the ha'.
There is nothiug very mortifying in seeing two .
ibre* captive American Eagles, with “ E Pluri
TJnum’’ in a scroll suspended from their beaks,;
vided there is neither dishonor nor cowardice unit' 1
with their caplure. And, if it were otherwise,
should be indemnified by the reflection that, in!'.*
wa. of trophies, we can display ten times thenti' -
be of British colors, flags, cannon, and ships of a r
-r. wJerices of American valor and prowess.
Wh. i the devil was sick, the devil & saint would hr,
Vkon the devil Was well, the devil a faint wkslit.