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AMERICAN DEIVTOCRAT. The most perfect Government would be that which, emanating directly from the People, Governs least—Costs least—Dispenses Justice to all, and confers Privileges on None.—-BEKTHAM. VOL. I.i DR. WM. GREEN-EDITOR. AJIE ciIGAIV D- HOG R Al', PUBLISHED WEEKLY, IN THE REAR OF J. BARNES' BOOKSTORE. COTTON AVENUE. MACON. GA. at two dollars pbr awot*. KJ- IN ADVANCE. -CO Rates of Advertising, Ac, One gquare, of 100 words, or lees, is email type, 75 cent* fer the first insertion, and 50 cents for each sobsetfeent tner tion. All Adrertisements containing moreitisn 100 and leas than 200 words, will be charged as two srfnares. To Yearly Advertisers, a liberal dedoctioo Will be made. IO- N. B Sales of I.AND, by Administrators, Executors- Guardians, are required, by law, to be held to the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of 10 in the fore noon, and 3 in the afternoon, at the Court-House in the Coun . in’which the property is situated. Notice of these must be given in a public Gazette, SIXTY DAYS, previous to the day of sale. Sales of PERSONAL PROPERTY, must be advertised in the same manner, FORTY DAYS previous to the day of sale- Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate, must be pub pdied FORTY Days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Oral tary, for leave to sell LAND, must be published POUR MONTHS. Sales of NEGROES, must be made at public auction, on be first Tuesday of the month, between the legal hours o f iale, at the place of public sales in the county where the let testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, shall have been granted, SIXTY DAYS notice being previously given in one of the public gaiettes of this State, and at the door of the Court-House, where such sales are to beheld. Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for FOUR MONTI IS, before any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. AH business of this nature, will receive prompt attention, a the Office of the AMERICAN DEMOCRAT. REMITTANCES BY MAIL.—“A Postmaster may en .lose money in a letter to the publisher of a newspaper, to pay the subscription of a third person, and frank the letter, if written by himself. 1 * - Amos Kendall, P. M. G. COMMUNICATIONS addressed to the Emxoa Poat Paid. Air—" Star-Spangled Banner." We gather together, brought here by the fame Os the soldier who periled his life for our glory, Who fearless went forth 'mid the slaughter and slain When the field and the banner were blood-red and gory ; Whose country w as fir*' i» his heart, oo*lin tongue, Whose shout o’er the blast and the cannon-peal rung, Huzza! to the conflict for freedom press on! ’Till the last (he is conquered, the last field is won ! We gather to honor the free and the brave And our gratitude’s gifts on the altar to render, The hero, who vowing his country to save Arose in the strife and was freedom’s defender; Attest it ye fields! where at Orleans ha Wed, When the Lion’s wild roar, and the tyrants fierce tread Roused the Eagle, who bore the proud trophies awray, ’Mid the shouts of the free who were victors that day! Bring the greenest of wreaths and bind on hi* brow That is scarred by the lightning and storm of the battle, And shout for the Hero, who scorning to bow, . Braved the cannon’s grim mouth, and the muskets dread rattle; And joy ! that his country at last has returned The laurel she plucked fiom the wreath he had earned, Defending the hearths of our patriot sires, Ands nning the embers of liberty s fires! Song—March ! March! Tune— " March, march, Ettrick and Tetiotdale. March, march Calhoun and Jackson men. Forward my lads, and march in good order, March, march Cass and Van Buren men, Henry C ay’s cohoits are now on our border. Many a banner spread, flutters above your heads, Many a crest that is (ansous in story, Come and make ready then, Democracy’s minute nn n. . . . , Fight for your cause, and your great chieftain s glory. . Chorus—March! march! etc. Come from the hills, where your cattle arc grazing, Cos ne from the glen of the buck and the roe, Come where the beacon of freedom is blazing, Determined to rout, and to vanquish your foe. Gallant hearts bounding, hills are resounding With cries that must urge ye, to march on in order. Our country shall many a day, tell of the gallant fray, . When we drove back the cohorts of Clay in dis order. Cliofus—Mach! march! &c. Come for Democracy’s foes are united, Andfraud and corruption are league 1 todestroy yc Come for your faith, and your honor are plighted, To conquer the foe who now seek to betray ye. Let no dissension then, sever your ranks my men, True to your cause, and to law and good order, These to maintain my men, bravely we will again Drive back the forces of Clay in disorder, Chorus—March! march! &c. A Mother's Love.—We have already announced the death, at New Orleans, of Sumner L. Fairfield, the poet. The New Orleans Tropic, in recording this event, says: “He died in a strange land, far from the green hills of his early home, and we had almost said, without friends. But no; there was one whose love passeth that of all others; one, whose affection neither poverty, misfortune or crime can alienate. His mother was with him. She sat by his couch through the long and silent watches of the night; she hovered, like a ministering angel, over his dying bed, and counted the weary hours as they pas sed, until the flickering lamp of his life was extinguished forever—until the gold en bowl was broken, and the spirit of Iter gifted but erring son had fled to the God who gave it.” DEMOCRATIC SAHHER FREE TRADE; LOW DUTIES; NO DEBT; SEPARATION FROM BANKS; ECONOMY; RETRENOfeiti&NT; AND A STRICT ADHERENCE TO THE CONSTITUTIdSf.— J. C. C.11.110U.r. MISCELLANY. From the Young Ladies' Friend. The Duel. A THRILLING NARRATIVE. By the Editor of Ziont Herald and Journal. The Rev. Mr. M was a veteran itinerant preacher of the West. He re lated many incidents of his itinerant life Among them was the following, which t give in his own Words as much as possi ble. About four miles from N is an ex tensive grove, well known as the scene of several fatal duels. As I passed it one morning on my way to my appointment in that town, I perceived a horse and ve hicle among the trees guarded by a soli tary man, who appeared to be the driver. My suspicions were immediately excited, but I rode on. About a mile beyond I met another carriage; containing four persons besides the driver, and hastening with all speed. My fears were confirmed, and I could scarcely doubt that another scene of blood was to he enacted in those quiet solitudes. What was my duty in the case I knew too well the tenacity of those fic titious and absurd sentiments of honor which prevailed in that section of the country, and which give to the duel a character of exalted chivalry, to suppose that my interference could be successful; yet I thought it was my duty to rebuke the sin if I could not prevent it; and in the name of the Lord I would do it. I im mediately wheeled about and returned with the utmost apeed to the grove. The second carriage had arrived and was fastened to a tree. I rodfc up,attach ed my horse near it and throwing the driver a piece of silver, requested him to guard him. While treading my way into the forest, my thoughts were intense ly agitated to know how to present my self most successfully. The occasion admitted no delay. I hastened on, and soon emerged into an oval space sur rounded on all sides by dense woods.— At the opposite extremily stood the prin cipals, their boots drawn over their pan taloons, their coats, vests, and hats off, handkerchiefs tied over their heads and tightly belting their waists. A friend anda surgeon wereconversing with each, while the seconds were about midway between them arranging the dreadful conflict. One of the principals, the chal lenged, appeared but twenty years of age. His countenance was singularly expressive of sensibility, but also of cool determination. The other had a stout ruffian-like bearing—a countenanceeasy, but sinister and heartless, and he seemed impatient to wreak his veangcance upon his antagonist. I advanced immediately to the sec onds and declared at once my character and object. “Gentlemen,” said I, “excuse my in trusion I am a minister of the gospel, I know not the merits of the quarrel, but both my heart and office require me to bring about a reconciliation between the parties, if possible.” “Sir,” replied one of them, “the utmost has been done to effect it, without suc cess, and this is no place to make furth er attempts.” “Under any circumstances, in. any place, gentlemen,” I replied, ’’it is ap propriate to prevent mtifdef; and such in the sight of God, is the deed you are aiding. It must not be gentlemen, In the name of the law which prohibits it in the name of your friends, the princi pals—in ; he name of God who looks down upon you in this place—l beseech you, prevent it at once; at least, wash your hands from the blood of those n n. Retire from the field and refuse to assist in their mutual murder.” My emphatic remonstrance had a mo mentary effect. They seemed disposed to come to terms if I could get the consent of the principals. I passed immediately to the oldest of them. His countenance become more repulsive as I approached him. It was deeply pitted with the small pox, and there was upon it the most cold-blooded leer I ever saw on a human face. He had given the challenge. I besought him by every consideration of humanity and morality to recall it. I referred to the youth and inexperience of his anta gonist—the conciliatory disposition of the seconds—the fearful consequence to his soul if he should fall, and the wither ing remorse which must ever follow him if he should kill the young man.— He evidently thirsted for the blood of his antagonist, but observing that his friend and the surgeon seconded my reasoning, he replied with undissembled reluctance, that he gave the challenge for sufficient reasons, and that if those reasons were removed, he might recall it. but not oth erwise. I passed to the other. I admonished him of the sin he was about to perpetrate. I referred to his probable domestic rela tions and the allusion touched his heart. He suddenly wiped a tear from his eyes. “Yes sir,” said be, “there are hearts which would break if they knew I were here.” I referred to my conversation with the seconds and the other principal, and remarked that nothing was now ne cessary to effect a reconciliation but a re traction of the language which had of- MACON, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 17, 1844. fendea hi - antagonist. “Sir,” replied he, planting his foot firmly on the ground, assuming a look Which would have been sublime in a better cause, “Sir, t have uttered nothing but the truth respecting that man, and though I sink irtto ihe grave, I will not sanction his villainous character by ia recantation.” I masoned with increased vehemence, j but no appeal to his judgment or his heart ttould shake his desperate firmness, and I left him with his fears which I have no doubt he would have Shared tinder rithcr circumstance; What could Ido furth er? I appealed again to the first princi pal, but he spurned me with a cool smile. 1 flew to the seconds and entreated them on any terms to adjust the matter, and save the shedding of blood. But they had already measured the ground, and were ready to place the principals.— “Gentlemen,” said I, “the blood of this dreadful deed be upon your souls. I have acquited myself of it.” I then pro ceeded from the area toward my horse. What were my emotions as I turned away in despair? Whatthought I, must this duel ptoceed ? Is there no expedi ent to prevent it? In a few minutes, one or both of these men may be in eter nity, accused forever with blood gtlilU hess ! Can I not pluck them as brands from the burning? My spirit was in a tumult of anxiety; in a moment and just as the principals were taking theirjx>si tions, I was again on the ground. Stan ding on the lirife between them I exclaim ed, “In the name of Geld I adjure you to stop this murderous Work. It must not, it cannot proceed.” “Knock him down,” cried the eldest duelist, with a fearful imprecation.” “Sir,” exclaimed the younger, “I ap preciate your motive, hut I demand of you to interfere ho more with out ar rangements.” The seconds seized me by the arms, and compelled me to retire. But I warn ed them at every step. Never before did I feel so deeply the value and hazard df the humansoul. My remarks were with out effect, except on one of the friends of the younger principal. “This is a hor rible place,” said he, “I cannot endure it, and he turned with me from the scene. “Now then for it,” cried one of the seconds, as they returned, “Take your places.” shuddering I hastened my pabe to escape the result. “One —two”—and the next sound was lost in the explosion of the pistols !!—- “O, God !” shrieked a voice of agony ! I turned round. The younger principal with his hand to his face, shrieked again, quivered and fell to the ground ! I rush ed to him. With one hand he clung to the earth, the fingers penetrating the sod, while with the other he grasped his left jaw, which was shattered with a horrid wound. I turned with faintness from the sight The charge had passed thro’ the left side of the mouth, crossing the teeth, severing the jugular and passing out at the back part of the head, laying open, entirely, one side of the face and neck. In this ghastly wound, amid blood and shatteied teeth, had he fixed his grasp with a tenacity which could not be moved. Bleeding profusely, and convulsive with agony, he lay for sever al minutes, the most frightful spectacle I had ever witnessed. The countenances of the spectators expressed a conscious relief when it was announced by the surgeon flint death had ended the scene. Meanwhile the murderer and his party had left the ground, One of the company wasdispatchedon my horse to communicate the dreadful news to the family. The young man was cleansed from this blood, and borne immediately to his carriage. I accom panied it. It stdpped before a small but elegant house. The driver rail to the door and rapped. An elderly lady open ed it, with frantic agitation, at the instant when we were lifting the ghastly remains from the carriage- She gazed for a mo ment, as if thunderstruck, and fell faint ing in the doorway. A servant removed her into the parlor, and, as we passed With the corpse into a rear room, 1 ob served her extended on a sofa, as pale as her hapless son. We placed the corpse otl the table, with the stiffened hand still grasping the wound, when a young lady neatly at tired in white, and With a face delicately beautiful, rushed franticly into the room and threw her arms around it weeping with uncontrollableemotion,andexclaim ed with an agony of feeling, “My brother! my dear, dear brother ? Can it be—O! can it be ?” The attendants tore her away. I shall never forget the look of utter wretched ness she wore as they led her away—her eyes dissolved in tears, and her bosom stained with her brother’s blood. The unfortunate young man was of New England origin. He had settled in the town of N , where his busi ness had prospered so well, that he invit ed his inotherand his sister to reside with him. His home endeared by gentleness and love, and every temporal coinlort, was a scene of unalloyed happiness; but in an evil hour be yielded to a local and absurd prejudice—a sentiment of honor falsely so called, which his educa tion should have taught him to despise. He was less excusable than his malicious murderer, for he had more light and bet ter sentiments* This one step ruined him and his hapny family, lie was in terred the next day with the regrets of the whole community. His poor mother never left the house till she was carried to her grave, to bri laid by the side of her son. She died af ter a delirious fever of two weeks, dura tion, throughout which she ceased not to implore the attendants, with tears, to pre serve her hapless son from the hands of assassins, whof she imagined kept him concealed for their murderous purpose. His sister still but poor and broken hearted. Her beauty and energies have been wasted by sorrow, ar.d she is de pendent on others for daily bread. I have heard some uncertain reports of his antagonist, the most probable of which is, that he died three years after of the yellow fever at New Orleans, raging with the horrors of remorse. Such was the local estimation of this bloody deed, that scarcely an effort was made to bring him to justlee. Alas,[for theinfluence of fash ionable opihion ! It can silence by its dictates the laws of man and of God, and exalt murder to the glory of chivalry ! When we consider how many hearts of mothers, sisters, and wives, have been made to bleed by this cruel and deadly custom, shall we not invoke the influ ence of woman to abolish it? It rests upon an incidental state of public opin ion, a fictitious sentiment of honor.— Whose influence is more effectual in cor recting or promoting such sentiments than womati’s 1 Human laws have fail ed to correct it, but her influence can do it. Let hei, then, disdain the duelist as stained with blood. Let her repel him from her society as one who has wrongly escaped the gallows. Let her exert all the benign influence of her virtues and her charms to bring into disgrace the murderous setttiment which tolerates and it cannot be long before the distinc tion between the duelist and the assassin will cease. Original Anecdote. —Not many ydars ago a man appeared, whether as plaintiff, defendent, or witness, tradition does not inform us. Be this as it may, the fol lowing dialogue ensued : Cfolirh—What is yoiir name, sir? Answer. —My name is Knott Martin, your honor. C. —Well, what is it? A. —lt is Knott Martin. (j. —“Knott Martin,” again 1 \Ve don’t ask you what your name is ndt; bttt wHat it is. No contempt of Court, sir. A,—lt yoitf honor will give me leave, I’ll spell rliy name. C. —Well spell it. A. —K n o double t, Knott; rrl a r, mar, t i n, tin, Martin—Kriott Martin. C. —O, very well, Mr. Martin, we see through it now; but it is one of the most knotty cases wc hctVc had before us fdr some time. Tbc Furlough—An Irish Anecdote. In the autumn of 1825, some private affairs called me into the sister kingdom; as I did not travel like Polyphemus, with my eyes out, I gathered a few samples of Irish character, amongst which was the following incident: I was standing one morning at the Window of “ mine inn,” when my atten tion was attracted by a scene that took place beneath. The Belfast coach was standing at the door, and on the roof, in front sat a solitary passenger, a fine young fellow in the uniform of the Con naught Rangers. Below, by the front wheel, stood an old woman, seemingly his mother, a young man, and a young woman, sister or sweetheart; and they were all earnestly entreating the young soldier to descend from his seat On the coach. “ Come down wid ye Thady”—the speaker was the old woman—“come down to your ould mother; sure it’s fidg ye they will, and strip the bones off the flesh 1 give ye. Come down, Thady, darling r “It’s honor, triothef,” was the short re ply of the soldier; and with clenched hands and set teeth he took a stiffer pos ture on the coach. “ Thady, come down—come down, ye fool of the worlds—come along down wid ye !” The tone of the present appeal was more impatient and peremptory than the last, and the answer was more promptly and sternly pronounced: “It’s honor, brother!” and the body of the speaker rose more rigidly than ever on the roof. “O Thady, come down ! sure it’s me, yonr own Kathleen that bids ye! Come down, or ye’ll break the heart of me, Thady jewel; come down then!” tlie poor girl wrung her hands as she said it and cast a look up that had a visible ef fect on the museles of the soldier’s coun tenance. There was more tenderness in his tone, but it conveyed the same reso lution as before. “It’s honor, honor bright Kathleen! and as if to defend himself from another glance, he fixed his look steadily in froirt, whilst the entreaties burst from ail three in chorus with the same answer. “Come down, Thudy, honey ! Thaiy, ye fool,- come down ! O Thady come down to me.” “It’s honor, mothry! honor, brother! honor bright, iny own Kathleen !” Although the poor fellow was a pri vate, this appeal was so public that 1 did not hesitate to go down and inquire into the particulars of the distre>s. It appear ed that he had been home on furlough, to visit his family, and having exceeded, as he thought, the term of his leave, he was going to join his regiment, and to undergo the penalty of his neglect. I asked him when the furlough expired. “The first of Marais your honor bad luck to it of all the black days in this world—and here it is, come suddenly on me like n shot.” “The first of March ! why my good fellow yon have a day to spare then— the first of March will not be here till to morrow. It is leap year, and February has 29 days.” The soldier was thunderstruck.— “ Twenty-nine days, is it ?—you’re sar tin of that same! Oh, mother, mother! the deuce fly away wid your old alma nac—a base cratur of a book, to be de ceiven one, afthtir living so long in the family of us!” His first impulse was to cut a caper on the roof of the coach, and throw Up his cap with a loud hurrah! His second was to throw himself'into the arms of his Kathleen; and the third was to wring my hand off in acknowledgment. “ It’s a happy man I am; ybtir honor, for my word’s saved, and all by your honor’s manes. Long life tb your hon or, for the same! May ye live a long hundred—and lape years every one of them. Editors. —No class of men should be more particular what they say than edi tors. If ministers advance an errone ous idea and given wrong impressions, it is confined within the walls of the church; but if an editor propagates in correct sentiments, they fly on the wings of the wind, through the length and breadth of the land and live forever.— llow important then, that every thought in a public journal should be chaste— every sentiment pure, and every para graph, stribtly true; so that the influence exerted may have a tendency to do good, and advance sound moralitj and unde filed religion.— Tribune. *‘J#r naiuc is lltiyues.” There are thousands of people in this country, who make use bt the common expression “My names is Haynes,” when they are abdut leaving a place or party Suddenly, yet few know from whence the expression is derived. A more com mon saying, or One in mrire general rise, has never beetl got tip. We heat it in Blaine and in Georgia, in Maryland and in Arkansas; it is in the mouths tis the old and the young, the grave and the gay —in short, “My name Is Hliirifes” cttjbys a popularity which no other slarig or cant phaiasc has ever obtained. “I’m o p-h,” “I must mizzle,” “I must make myself scarce,” are frequently used, but the ex pression which heads this article, lcdvfes them all out of sight. Having said this much of the reputation of the pharase, be it Our iifext care to give its origin. Some thirty-five years since, a gentle man named Haines, was travelling on horse-back in the vicinity of Ml 1 . Jeffer son’s residence in Virginia. Party spirit was running extfemely high itl those days. Mr. Jefferson was President, and Haines was a rank federalist, and, as a matter of course, a bitter opponent to the then existing administration and its head. He was not acquainted with that gentle man, also travelling on horso back, his party zeal soon let him into a conversa tion upon theall-absorbing topic. In the course of conversation, Haines took par ticular pains to abtlse Mr. Jefferson, cal led him all sorts of hard names, run down every measure of his administration, spoke of the non-intercourse and embar go acts of his as most outrageous arid rtiirtous, ridiculed his gun-boat system as preposterous and nonsensical, oppos ed his purchase of Louisiana as a wild scheme—in short, took up every leading feature of the day, descanted upon them and their originator with the greatest bit terness. Mr. Jefferson all the while, said but littfej There was no such thing as getting away from his partltular friend, and he did not exactly feel at liberty to combat his arguments. They finally arrived in front of Mr. Jefferson’s residence, Haines, ol course, not acquainted with the fact. Notwith standing he had been vilified and abused “like a pickpocket,” to use an old say-; ing, Mr. Jefferson still, with true Virgin ia hospitality and politeness, invited his travelling companion to alight aud par take of some refreshment. Haines was about getting from his horse, when it came into Ins head that he 'should ask his companion’s name. “Jefferson,” saul the President, bland ly. “The d—l ! What, Thomas Jeffer son ?” “Yes, sir, Thomas Jefferson.” “President Thomas Jefferson?” cofttin ed the astonished federalist. “The same,” rejoined Mr. Jefferson. “Well my name is Hai>ts !” ami putting spurs to his horse, he was out ot hearing instantly- This, we have been informed, was the origin of the phrase. jNO; 48. W AVer.—There is nothing more beautiftil than water. Look at it when you will, iii arty of its thousand forms, dripping from the moss of the spring, or IfelplHg iri the thunder of the cataract, it has always the same wonderful, surpass ing beauty. Clear transparency, tho grace of its possible motion, iu tile bril liant sheen of form and its majestic march in the flood, are matched unitedly by no other element. Who has not blessed it unawares ? If objects that meet the eye have any effect upon our happiness, wa ter is the first of human blessings. It is the gladdest thing tinder heaven. The inspired writers use it constantly as an image for gladness, and ‘crystal waters’ is the beautiful type of an Apocalypse for the joy of New Jerusalem. I bless God for its daily Usefulness; but it is because it is an every day blessing that its splen dor is unnoticed, its value unappreciated Take a Child to it, and he claps his hands with delight; present it to any one m a new form and his senses are bewildered. The man of warm imagination wito looks for the first time on Niagara, feels an im pulse to leap in, which is almost irresfen ble; LoiSk oil the Bright Side. —There is philosophy here. Always look on the bright side.—No matter how dark your path may be—uomatter how many briars obstruct your way—look steadily on the bright side. Happy they whose hearts are sd constructed that all is bright be fore them. The bitter is made sweet— the dark, light; sorrow is turned into joy —grief into pleasure—and on every side (he good and the beautiful, the bright and the glorious, triumph over sin and deformity, fear and doubt, and the very heavens that give blackness to the sus picious and moping, are hung in invest ments of gjory and grandeur so beauti ful that the heart cannot contemplate them without bursting with fulness of joy.— Portland Tribune. The young man’s curse. I sgw him first at the social party. Ho took but a single glsss of wine, and that in compliance with the request of a fair young lady with whom he conversed.—- I saw him next when he supposed he was unseen, take a glass -to satisfy the slight desire formed by his sordid indul gence. lie thought there was no dan ger. I saw him again with those of his dtvrt age meeting at night to spend a short time in cbn vivial pleasure; he con sidered it only iunbcertt amusement. I met him next late in the evening; in the Street Unable to reach Hdtne; I assisted him thither; lie Iboked ashamed when we next met. I next reeling iu the street, a confused stare Was on his countenance, ancl words of blasphemy were bn his tdngue; Shnmb was gone ! The Best is Left. —I am fallen [cried Jeremy Taylor] into the hands of publi cans and seijucstratars; and they have ta ken dll fl'oni me; What now ! Let me look about itic! They have left me sun and moon, fire and water, and many irieuds tb pity ine, and some to relive me; and I ban still discourse; and unless T they have not taken away my cheerful spirits, and my merry countenance, and a good conscience; they have still left me the providence of God and the promises of the gospel, arid my religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my charity to them too. And still 1 sleep and digest, era eat and drink; I read and meditate; 1 can walk in my neighbor’s pleasant fields and see the varities of natural beauties and delight in all which God delights, that is, in the virtue and wisdom of the whole creation, and God himself. A printer has lately been married in Indiana, and the guests kissed the bride! It is said that an old batchelor who had never approached so near one of the fair sc* before, was so bewildered, enchanted, and delighted by the salute, that he ran off and proposed to a young widow be fore the wedding party hud broken up. A Ncttidnal Monument at Washing ton.—A bill is now before Congress, which appropriates about $50,000 for a national monument at Washington, on a truly beautiful plan. This measure has been introduced to the attention of the House of Representatives, by the Hon. Zadock Pratt, of New York. Thq Washington Monument Society have now in their possession $48,000; and Mr. Pratt’s bill calls for an appropriation of a sum which, in connection with the above, it is thought will tie sufficient to complete the work. The building or monument, will embrace three stories.— The crypt or basement is intended to contain the statue of W ashington; with n idles for the busts of the Presidents of the United States The secoud story to contain niches lor statues of the illustri ous men of the country; and the third to bea saloon or gallery lor paintings of his torical or natiuial subjects. The monu ment is to be feet high, and of the same dimension* the rottmda of the capitol, whidi n i&o feet in diameter iiie uhoie-ean completed m eigh teen months, for SIOO,OOO. The ma terial to be of marble.—Plebeian.