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poi;tkv.
•‘With a poet’s hum], and :■ • rophet’s fire.
He struck the wild wurblings ot'liis lyre”
Tin; or t»ie united states.
Ne’er waved beneath the golden sun
A lovelier banner for the brave,
Than that our bleeding fathers won,
At.d proudly to their children gave:
Not earth a fairer gem can bring,
Or freedom claim a brighter scroll
Than that to which our free hearts cling—
The flag that lights the freeman’s soul :
Its glorious stars in azure shine.
The radiant heruhly of heaven I
Its stripes in beauteous order twine,
The emblems of our Union given.
And tyrants with a trembling oaze,
Survey its bright and meteor glare !
Winle glorious beams around it blaze.
And rest in fadeless splendor there !
Look freemen ! on its streaming folds.
As gallantly they range a far,
Where freedom’s bird undaunted holds
The branch of peace and spear and war }
While high amid the rolling stars,
With words which every heart expand.
Within her beak serene she hears
The badge of our united land !
Behold, thy star-wrought ensign sweep.
Thy country’s pride, the tyrants bane ;
Unrivalled on the foaming deep,
Unconquercd on the battle plain,
Along the exulting mountain gale,
’Tis home with wild majestic flow,
As trailing meteors skyward sail,
And leave the dazzled world below.
From shore to shore,from hill to hill,
Where freedom’s voice hath yet been heard,
’Tis welcomed wiih a holy thrill.
And oft rebellion’s flame half stirred.
Around the globe, through every clime,
Where commerce wafts or men hath trod,
It floats aloft, unstained with crime,
Hut hallowed by heroic blood.
who rrance naui crushed her liourbon flower,
And seized the hag her valor sought,
She holds it as oppression’s dower—
A name is all the boon it brought.
Though Albion boast her cross of blood,
Knciiinsoned on a thousand plains,
Vet freedom’s cause she has withstood,
And mark’d it with a redeetnless stain.
But thine Columbia! thine’s the prize,
To cheer the free and guide the brave,
To wave through earth’s remotest skies,
And plant upon oppression’s grave.
Thine is the standard freedom wrought,
To rear above the lion’s form,
Whose farm their martyr’d father's sought,
To cheer them through the battle’s storm.
Flag of the free! still hear thy way,
Undimm’d through ages yet uutold.
O’er earth’s proud realm thy starsdisplay.
Like morning’s radient clouds unrolled.
Flag of the skies! still peerless shine,
Through either’s azure vauUunfii.rlejl.
To sweep oppression from the world !
iTUCELLA A EOl'S.
THE COBLER’S revenge.
A poor Colder lived next door lo a retail Wine Scl
ler, wno the better to draw the sous out of the pockets
of his neighbours, put up a splendid gilt sign, with the
names of the most famous Wines upon it at full length.
Now this was a terrible temptation to the Colder, who,
however, the better resisted it, as he did not know how
to read. But not content with the gilt sign, the wine
seller has two hunches of ripe, tempting grapes painted
to the life, and just heneatli two goblets running over
with wine. This was readable; and the poor Collier’s
mouth watered, hut at first it only watered. It was,
however, in vain to resist, for he found himself every
moment trying to find some excuse for turning his eyes
n 1 his uei'dil pur's shop, and at last in he cops —
!f lcmr sous c.TtVr kill a ooay, thought he, and two tum
blers full of wine were soon under his jacket, so it was
the next day, and the next, and the next; hut one day
lie happened to have no money, “So, neighbour, said the
wine seller, yon don’t take a drop to-day?” “Why, to
tell you the. truth,! would if 1 had the change.” “Never
mind,” said the wine seller, “come and take a drink,
vou can pay me some other time.” But the Cobler’s
paring time never came, and the wine seller dunned him
over and over again, and got, promises; the Cohlcr drink
ing every day as usual, for it was a pity to loose such
a good customer, thought the wine seller. Every body
knows (w hich every body means all one’s acquaintance)
that on Sunday all Parisians, high and low', tlress in
their best, and find amusement where they can. Now
our Cobler’s best suit was a gray coat with plated but
tons, and a white hat, and the merciless wine seller
.found incans lo get the latter, together with the grey coat
with plated buttons into his possession, and swore that
he would’nt give them up until lie was paid every sous.
The Colder prayed, and begged, entreated him to give
them up hut for that day, lor lie had contracted to dance
the first, cotiliou with his sweetheart, and was enr:nrn«!
to dine at his cousin’s: hut it would’nt do, the wine sel
ler hid hitn go about his business, which the Cobler lit
orally did, for he went he me and began to work and sing
with all his might, to drown the noise of his neighbor’s
violin; and at night lie went to bed as melancholy as any
Colder in I’aris. “La reir■ ’aitce cst le plailir de Dicux,"
savs the proverb, and our Cohlcr awoke the next morn
tng gay as ever, for he ha.l thought of a way to revenge
himself. He threw out before his door some hits of
bread, which his neighbor’s fowls very kindly picked up,
the next day the same tiling, witli the same success,
and third and fourtii days the fowls were w illing to enter
his shon, and to save him the trouble of feeding them
without. No sooner all within, and the fowls were prison
crs,and the Cohlcr fell to w'ork and filled a pillow case
with feathers, w hich he plucked clean off the poor crea
tures, one by one, and then sent them shivering home,
naked as they were born. One sleeps well on a good
conscience, but the Cohlcr found his pillow of revenge
quite as soothing, for he slept soundly upon it. The
wine seller, however, soon wakes him with a loud knock
ing “Holloa neighbor, somebody has been plucking my
fowls and they ‘••-j’ w... .mu coinimr not nfvom
shop.” “Pray, neighbor, who told you so!’ ‘asked the
Cohlcr, “ Why the apple woman and baker’s wife.”
“They are right.” said the Cohlcr. “May 1 presume to
ask wi o plucked my fowls,” asked the wine seller. “No
presumption at all,” replied the Colder, “you may ask.”
“Andean you tell me who plucked them?” “Nothing
easier, I did it.” “What you?” “Yes.” “And may 1 ask
why you took tlic liberty of undressing my fowls?” “Cer
tainly you may, and I will answer, you must know that,
for something less than a week, your fowls have lived at
my expense, without paying me a sous, ami that is the
reason why I untlrci *tl llitni.au you call it. When I’
get pay so - my bread, they shall have their feathers.’*
“But this is horriblecruelty,”said the w ine seller. “Not
more so than undressing me last Sunday.” said the Coh
ler. “But what have you done with the feathers?”
Made a capital pillow.” “But I’ll sue you,” said the wine
seller. “Do as you please,” replied the Coblet, and
how the suit will end, nobody knows not even the law
yers.
THE THREE FRIENDS.
Trust no friend before thou hast tried him, for they
abound more at the festal board than at the prison door.
A certain man had three friends, two of them he loved
warmly, the other he regarded with indifference, though
that one was the best of his wcllwishers. Ihe man was
summoned before a tribunal, and though innocent, his
accusers were hitter against him.
“Wiio among you,” said he, “will go with me, and
bear witness forme? For my accusers are hitter against
me, and the king is displeased.”
The first of his friends at once excused himself from
accompanying hitn, on the plea of other business, i lie
sccoi.tl followed hitn to the door of the tribunal; there he
turned hack and went his way, through of the of
fended judge. The third, on whom he relied the least,
spoke for hitn, and bore witness to his innocence, so that
the judge dismissed liitir and rewarded him.
Man has three friends in this world; how do they de
mean themselves towards him in the hour of death, when
God calls him to judgment? His best beloved friend,
gold, is the first to leave him, and accompanies him not.
His friends and kinsmen accompany him to the portal of
the grave, and then turn back to their own homes. The
third, when he is most neglected of, is his good works.
They alone go with him to the Judge’s throne, njl *>b
tain mcrcy and grace. Herder .
FROM THE FRASER’S MAGAZIEE.
Accounts of the Feats of an American Sailor, who
swallowed Clasp Knives- —ls the power of the human
frame to carry oft' through its solid fabric, extraneous sub
stances which have been accidentally introduced into it
excites our astonishment, how much more must we ad
mire the extraordinary self-preservation powers of the
stomach and the other viscera, ill enabling an individual
to live, for many years, who had been in the habit of
swallowing great numbers of clasp knives and other me
talic substances.
The case which wc are about to describe is so extraor
dinary that it could scarcely obtain credit, were it not
supported by ocular and undoubted testimony. We
have no hesitation in believing the facts of a Spaniard
who swallowed perforated silver halls, filled with partic
ular substances, in order that the physiologist who em
ployed him might study the action and powers of the
gastric juice; but it almost surpasses belief, that a man
could he found who would voluntanly introduce into his
stoinach4>udics of such a size, ol such a shape, and of
such indigestible materials as to endanger his life both
at their entrance and their exit, as well as during their
residence in that bourne from which such travellers sel
dom return.
An American sailor, of the name of John Cumming,
about twenty-three years of ago, happened to touch at
a port on the French coast, about two miles from Havre
de Grace, in the month of June, 1799. Observing, in
a distant field, a tent, with a crowd of people round it,
the curiosity of himself and comrades prompted them tc
steer their course in that direction. Upon their arrival
they learned that a play was acting in the tent; and hav
ing collected a litre each and obtained admission, they
were surprised at the sight of the play-actors, who were
entertaining an admiring audience with the feat of swal
lowing clasp-knives. When the sailors returned to their
ship, one of the party gave an account of the wonders
which they had seen; and Cummings, who had been
drinking freely, boasted that he could swallow knives as
well as the Frenchmen. Ilis comrades took him at his
as he himself candidly acknowledged, in his own ac
count of the matter, he was “not particularly anxious to
take the job in hands, yet he did not like to go against
his word; and, having had a good supply of grog inward
ly,” he took out his own pocket knife, and upon trying
to swallow it, “it slipped down his throat with great ease,
and, by the assistance of some drink, and the weight ot
the knife,” it descended into his stomach. Successful
as this performance was, his oompanions were not satis
fied with seeing it only once; and having asked him “if
he could swallow more,” he exultingly replied, “All the_
knives on ship-board!” A fresh supply having been*
procured, he swallowed three of them in the same man
ner as he had done the first, and, to use his own mode of
expression, “by this hold attempt of a drunken man, the
company was well entertained for the night. On the
following day one of the knives, and on the day after,
other two, ‘descended” to their owners: hut the fourth
w’as never more heard of having either cast anchor in
some corner of the stomach, or, what is more likely, hav
u>n aiooolvoJ by tlm action of the gastric juice, for
he never experienced the slightest inconvenience from
it.
Our knife-swallower, though highly favored by his
good fortune; as well as by the extraordinary powers of
his inner man, abandoned the practice of his art for the
space of six years; hut, on the 13th March, 1805, his
vanity again tempted him to repeat the hazardous ex
periment.—While drinking with a parcel of sailors at
Boston, in America, he began to boast of his former ex
ploit; and, in [consequence of the discredit which was
cast upon his story, he was highly affronted, and declar
ed, that he was the same man still, and was ready to
prove to them the truth of his assertions. A small knife
having been instantly produced, he swallowed it in a
moment. Five other knives followed it in the same
evening, and, the fame of his doings having rapidly
spread through Boston, he was beset, next morning, by
crowds of visitors, and was induced, iu the course of
that day, to swallow eight more, making fourteen in all.
Oil this occasion he did not escape so easily as he did
before from the consequence ot his folly. He was at
tacked next day wi*l» «**“!* " ““'ant vomiting, and a pain
1,10 otuiuuL.il, that it became necessary to oarry him
to Charleston Hospital; where, as he expresses it, be
tween that petiod and the 28th of April, “he tvas safely
delivered of his cargo,” and all the knives wliieh were
thus unshipped are preserved in the Infirmary of that
city.
On the 29th of April, Cummings sailed from France
in a brig, and, having parted from it, he w-cnt on board
another vessel, the Betty, of Philadelphia, to return to
America. This vessel, however, which was, probably,
engaged in some contraband trade, was captured bv his
majesty’s ship the Isis, of fifty guns, and carrried into St.
John's, Newfoundland, where she was condemned, and
Cummings pressed and sent to England on hoard the
Isis. At Spithcad, where the ship touched, and where,
as Cummings observes, ‘it took in plenty spirituous li
quors, he was again induced, under the influence of
drink, to relate to his new comrade the marvels of his
digestive powers. None of his shipmates would believe
his statement; and the argument which ensued was cut
short bv one of them offering hint a knife for trial. ‘Dis
daining,’ as he says, “to be worse than his word, he pro
ceeded immediateiv to perform his part of the business;”
ami, on me same evening; ot me nn ol December,)
lie swallowed five knives. <>n the following morning,
the ship’s company having expressed a great anxiety to
witness a repetition of the performance, he readily yield
ed to their request, and, ‘by the encouragement of the
people and the assistance of good grog,” he swallowed
that day nine clasp-knives, some of which were very
large. He was afterwards informed by the spectators,
that he swallowed four more, hut he declares that lie
knew nothingaliout this additional shipment, as he was,
prohahlv, too niurli intoxicated to have any recollection
of what then passed.
This was tli« last feat which CJinrninga performed.
He had now swallowed, in all, thirty-five knives, at dif
ferent times, and it was this last ’tfort that put an end
to his life, in March, 1809, nearly four years afterwards.
Dr. Lara, the surgeon of the Isis, to whom he was ob
liged to apply for medical aid, wou.d not, at first, believe
that Cutnming’s illness was ow ing to his having swallow
ed knives; hut, having satisfied himself of its truth by
strict examination of the principal eve witness he paid
great attention to the case, without, however, having
obtained much relief for lis patient. But, in about
three months, having talien a quantity of oil, Cummings
“felt ten knives dropping down the channel,” and
though none of them ever got to sea, yet he enjoyed the
benefit ofa perfect calm till the 4th of June, IBOG, when
he vomited one side of the handle of a knife, which had
“William Cummings” cut in the horn, and which was
recognized by its own’r, who had given it to he swal
lowed.
In the course of tic next six months, blades and han
dles and other fragments of knives were discharged in
different direction, arid, in consequence of his having
quitted his ship a incurable, he became a patient of I)r.
Babington’s, in <uv’s Hospital. His story, however,
seemed so inerflihie, that he was discharged in a few
davs; hut was readmitted in the month of August, 1807,
ow ing to his lealth having become much worse. On
the 28th of Oitober he left the hospital in an improved
state, aud he did not again make his appearance till
September, .'BOB, after an interval of nearly a year. At
this time h« catnc under the management of Dr. Curry;
“under whose care,” as Dr. Marcct observes, “he re
mained, gradually and miserably sinking under his suf
ferings, till March, 1809, when he died in a state of ex
trotno ourittointioil.”
The stomach of Cummings, in its external aspect, ex
hibited evident proofs of an altered structure. It was
opened in the presence of Sr Astlcy Cooper, when a
great numberof fragments of lnifc blades, knife-springs
and handles, were found in it, and carefully collected
for the Anatomical Museum at Guy’s Hospital, in which
they are now deposited. There arc no fewer than be
tween thirty and forty of these fragments; thirteen or
fourteen of them were clearly the remains of blades,
some of which were rcmarkibly corroded and broil ig
iously reduced in size while others were in a wonderful
state of preservation. Minute drawings of all these
fragments have been engaaved for Dr. Marcet’s inter
esting account of this case, and occupy a large folding
plate, with forty figures. The most remarkable object
is a large blade, which has suffered almost nocorrosion,
and hears the word cast “steel,” and the cutter’s name,
“Batchalin.” Another of the figures represents a horse
lancet; another a lieutenant’s uniform button; and other
ten figures exhibit what appear to have been the silver
oval buttons which sometimes ornament the handles oi
knives.
FROM THE JOURNAL OF COMMERCE.
The Dvisii MoTnEit. Many years have rolled away
since I witnessed the scene 1 now record. During those
vears 1 have wandered far front my native mountains,
mingled with strangers, and saw their ways. Yet the
event I now telate is present to my recollection with a
vividness as if it were an occutrcnce of yesterday.
Suffer me, kind reader, to lay before you the outlines
of her history whose death isdescribed in this story. Suf
fice it to say, that her father was a respectable farmer in
Connecticut. Although possessed of but little wealth,
yet he was happy in his domestic relations, and felt well
rewarded for his daily toil in being able to maintain a
large family of children. Mary, his eldest daughter, had
ever been considered the flower of the family. It is
sufficient for our present purpose to say, that at a suita
ble age she married an honest ant! intelligent mechanic,
whom, for convenience sake, wc shall call Mr. B. This
evening did not so much unite them, as it
tlu.Joi^-v>tiua< .lout, lowhl-'aiilVrti-trnill vwittis* arm*barm?:
Thrown upon their own resources for support, they im
mediately set out for Vermont, with little or nothing of
this world’s goods. Yet they felt rich in the possession
of each other. By their industry and the common bles
sing of Providence, they were soon surrounded with the
necessaries and many of the luxuries of life, and what
was still more, they were made happy by the birth of
sons and daughters.
Years of peace, of substantial happiness, passed away,
giving place to those of discord tnd the keenest anguish.
By some incidents, the suspicioi had been awakened in
the hosotn of Mrs. B. that her husband was indulging
too freely in strong drink. Dail; developments went to
increase her painful solicitude,until the afflicting con
clusion was forced upon her mini, that her husband and
protector was really in the druikard’s path. She felt
that she could not cherish the Bought for an instant, —
yet when unable to resist its truh, and weep while she
prayed for him she loved.
About this time his partner in business gave him no
tice that there must be a dissolution of tlieii connection,
which soon after occurred ; thenceforth Mr. B. spent
some of his time in dotngold jobbs, hut most ofhis hours
were idled away at a tavern, kept by a deacon of the
church, who did not refuse to sell him rum as often as
he wanted
By this course a happy family circle was invaded, and
the spring of their social joys dried up, while the hearth
around which they were wont tt gather with glad and
smiling faces, was, by a drunkentfather, rendered cheer
less and desolate.
It is not my object in this paper to detail the woes of
this distressed family, hilt to dejenbe the scene of their
consumution, when she who haqhccn its provider, sunk
a martyr to material love.
At this time Mrs. 15. was the.mother of several chil
dren, —three hoys and four g(ls. Two of the latter
were twin sisters! By cxertionadmost incredible, Mrs.
B. had contrived to keep these flear ones horn beggary
supporting them with the laljpr of her own hands.
Week after week and month aftr month she went to a
barn,and there toiled through tic slow-revolving hours,
to the tedious operation of weaving with a hand loom, —
to clothe Iter children anil to buy them bread. [Some
times the uuccssaries of life, procured in this hard way,
would he pavned by a drunken-husband to minister to
his grave-likothirst.]
By these exertions, added to the sorrow that lay so
heavily upon hy breast, her constitution, naturally hale
anil robust, was finally prostrated.
My own motler had overtaken a lively interest in
this family, and bund it necessary of late to redouble
her efforts in theit behalf.
It was one summer evening that she took me by the
hand and led me to'}],> house of sorrow, that l might,
for the first time in tty life, behold a mortal in the last
great conflict, for Mrs 15.’s malady had developed itself,
and was now hastening to its issue. Every thing con
spired to render the Uur impressive. The sun had
sunk behind the western tiouuUin, casting over its un
even summit the rays of its departing glory. We pro
ceeded slowly aleng a smil footpath leading to the
house, and more thin ones my fears induced me to turn
hack; yet my desire to set a person die was so strong,
that I summoned up my courag* and went on. As we
drew near we found the neighbor! assembled iu mourn
ful groups beneath the trees abort the house, speaking
in suppressed tone, and some affeded even to tears.
The house wherein the dying upther lay, was a tene
ment of the rudest kind. When *e entered, an invol
untary shudder came over me as lie groans of the suf
ferer fell suddenly upon my ears. Never until my own
dissolution, shall I forget the variois feelings that agita
ted my hosm. My wild voting fatcy had never pictured
death to me as leaving actual shppe, with naked ribs
and hones, and I eagerly looked about the room, mo
mentarily expecting his hideous majesty to come in,
visible, and execute Ins rcleutk* commission.
lii one comer of the room ky the dying mother, di
rectly under a window, from which fell the solemn eve
ning twilight, plainly revealing the face of the sollercr.
“Sudden and swift the eager past came on,
And terror grew till every hope was gone,—
Still those around appeared for hope to seek,
But viewed the sick and were afraid to speak. ’
Rousing from a deep stu|>or, the mother looked about
the room until her eyes rested upon the little twin sis
ters wlio stood weeping at the foot of her bed. ‘Come
here, dear children,’said she faintly. They went, and
took her cold extended hand, and covered its clammy
surface with kisses, when she exclaimed. How pre
cious, O God, arc thy promises! To thee have those been
dedicated; O take them into thy holy keeping, and 1
shall die contented.’ After a short pause, she resumed:
‘Children, all, —1 am now’ going from you; do be faith
ful unto God, and he will not forsake you. M hen your
mother is dead, love each other tenderly, and : • member
the words 1 have said unto you. 1 have nothing to leave
you but poverty, and a mother’s blessing. Take careol
your father and treat him kindly. But above all, love
God, and keep his commandments. And now- farewell.’
She then expressed a desire to see her husband, —a
wish that conld not be gratified, for he was drunk. She
now relapsed into a stupor, from which she never re
covered. An aged minister present was requested to
prav, and the old man kneeled down beside the death
bed, and breathed forth a fervent, consoling prayer. The
tremulous tones of his voice seem still sounding in my
cars. Well do 1 remember his wrinkled cheek, his thin
whitened locks. He closed his eyes, extended his hands,
and led the devotion with overwhelming pathos. All
had kneeled, his supplications found a response in all
our hearts.
* * When the voice of prayer had ceased,
“We stood alone, the living with the dead;
The ruddy embers glimmering round the room,
Displayed the corse amid the solemn gloom,
But o’er the scene a holy calm reposed,-
The "ate of heaven had opened there and chased.”
JVetp. York, Feb. 8, 1833 11. B. S.
ADRIFT WITHOUT OARS.
“Well, away we wint, like a marvellous pretty kite
when the string’s broke—with never a rope to catch
hold, an oar to shove with, nor a livin’ baste, nor a bit of
ould Ireland to clap my deluging eyes upon, but the
stars and the blue heavens shinin’above us, I mean the
boat and me, for the devil another livin’creature was
near us. Oh! ’twas thin that 1 saw with the tare of pity
in my eye that 1 was insignificant quite, and could do
nothin’ for myself at all, at all, no more than the frog in
in the w iteensec, or the babe unborn, w ith its arms tied
behind its back! Well, the monstrous sea glowed at me,
and a thought struck my hart saying, ‘lts the great fiish
of the sea, they’ll devour ye’s l’at. Oh! says Ito myself,
sure an the infidels would like nothin’ better than to
make their supper, the monstrocious thaves that they
are, oft' a tinder, harted Irishmen, but the never a bit es
sweet consolation came over tnc for the thinking about
it. And all the while I was thinkin’ of the villanous
sharp teeth of the fish ploughin’ iny ribs, the dea.irving
sea wbs taken the ’vantage of inc. ’Botheration to your
compass you nasty big soft one,’ says I, ’for to take such
an ungintlemanly advantage toons who hasn’t an oar to
resist you, you smooth-faced glutton,’ says I, ! to carry a
man ragin’out in the ocean like a cat in a washin’ tub,’
says I, ’to devour him.’ ‘Bad scran to your big fiat face,’
says Ito the sea, ‘and may the sweat never leave my
brow,’ says 1 to the host [for there was only three of us,]
‘but I’ll give you one trial any how,’ said 1 r so sitting
on the bow-beam, I put the brogues o’me again’ the bow,
and seizing the rope tied to the ring, in the inside of her
nose, I bent on it like a roarin’ lion, till the very bones
o’ iny back were starting, may the power go from the el
bo o’me but her head was as stiff as an ass with two parts
o’ the mule in him ! ! ‘Tare an ouns,’ says I, an its to
drWmeJou mean r an I, hitched the roi* , round jnv
o’ me leg was crackin’like burnin’broom; with faeeness;
but just at the moment I w-as compassing her, away
came the tink, as it was my scone that took the
beam with the most shameful pelt that made tha
teeth o’ me chatter like a handful o’ grey pease on an
ould tin can ! I lay insensible for more nor I can tell,
happin’ a world of curses on the head of the carpenter
that made the villanous ling. When I came out o’ the
dozing, l was mighty PuiETish, for 1 thought I was to be
drownd’ all the same as a cargo of blind kittens, and the
live world nothin’ known about it at all, at all. So it
was prayin’ I wint, an’ ils laugh you need n’t, it was
death an’ devourin’, and maybe starvation I was lookin’
for, and never a Minister to say, ‘rest his troubled soul,’
so it was down on my naked bare ones! wint, an’ lookin’
the stars an’ the moon right in the face as she was steal
in’ away through the clouds in a shockin’ hurry, ‘Father
dear of Heaven,’ says I, mighty penitent, ‘that you would
send by boy Mick to me with the hen-ladder over his
should, that I might do the power o’ my sowl to scull the
boat ashore ! May never the light of heaven dart on me,
says I, but yonder it comes then, an’ without livin’ sowl
carrying it.’ ‘Sure,’clapping my thigh, says I, “but that’s
pretty in the Providence too, to think that it sends so
gentaley before the words were right out o’ iny mouth.
It came reeling on, till I could disarn the steps for the
chickin. Ocli!’ say I to the boat, ‘it’s now I’ll teach
you, you botheration man-drower, that Paddy’s the mas
ter o’ you.’ But, stop a bit, the pole came up with me ;
‘stop now.’ says I, ‘an’ I’ll kich ye as ye come past:’ but
bad cess to the bitt o’stick it was, but a nate string o’
wild ducks all in a row, and they passed over mv head,
without sayin’ a word, an’ their wings singin’ like" night
ingales. ‘Houl, then, ye villanous desavers,’ says 1, Hill
i give you a word of message ashore, but the never a bit
they stopped—the spalspeens ! ‘Twas then that I set me
down as lonely as a piece of dirt in a stirabout dish, and
I fell asleep all for the want o’ someone to help me ashore,
an’ would you believe it, when i came to myself, I was
lying on the shore with the boat, without the bottom,
turned over me like a mouse below a hat without the
crown on it ! —Bedfast Paper.
Counts Officers of the Cherokee Circuit.
The following persons have been elected Officers in
the Cherokee Circuit, and were commissioned on the
9th of Marcli—to wit:
LUMPKIN’ COUNTY.
John S. Fields, Ambrose, K. Blackwell, Wm. Dean
John Oxford and JohnC. Jones, Justices Inf. Court.
Jesse F. Riley, Clerk Suj>erior Court.
William Quillian, Clerk Inferior Court.
Samuel Jones, Sheriff.
Thomas Moore, 'Pax Collector.
James Martin, Receiver of Tax Returns.
John Hanson, County Surveyor.
Isaac R. Foster, Coroner.
CASS COUNTY.
Samuel Mays, James F. Thompson, Isaac L. Parker,
James Orr and Nath’l Wofford, Justices Inf. Coirt.
Benjamin F. Adair, Sheriff.
Chester Hanks, Clerk Superior Court.
Leathern Rankin, Clerk Inferior Court.
Will iatn Dameron, Tax Coltertor.
Elijah R. Forsyth, Receiver Tax Returns.
Nealy Goodwin, County Surveyor.
John Pack, Coroner.
GILMER COUNTY.
Ralph Smith, Benjamin Cooper, Cornelius Cooper,
Benj. M. Griffith,and Robert Berry, Justices Inf. Court.
J<evi ilufstellcr, Sheriff.
Thomas Burnett, Clerk Superior Court.
Henry K. (Juillian, Clerk Inferior Court.
Law and equity arc two things which God had joined,
but which man hath put asunder.
Journal of the Times .
03“ We respectfully remind the subscribers a
JOURNAL OF THE TIMES, ,hat their «W r £ ti £ e
arc past due, and that they would be very acceptable ° S
N.~ AIHiF.3I FFPSi
LOTTLKV AN» EXCHANGE <»FF|( r
MILLEDGEVILLE, GEO.
No Tariff! No Protective System ' • „
served Rights !! ! No Indian Scttleui',.,,l*
r«MIE Land Lottery is complet’d, and those who
i Fortune” has omitted in her golden showers «• ij
well to turn their attention to the ’ ou “
Tlic New-York Consolidated Lot| Prv
It offers greater inducements to the adventure- th ’
scheme ever offered to the public before. All’
and NO BLANKS, what a speculation ! an imlivi i ,
vesting the small amount of $2 50, is compelled to and
prize, and from the fact of his being obliged to draw h * *
secure the comfortable prize of THIRTY THdiio.?!
DOLLARS, which would be the means of rescuing hi
the confines of oblivion, and placing him upon that ,
station, the attributes of which are wealth, fame and ~***
You aspirants for fame, lei not this golden opportunity 1 '"
without reaping some of its golden fruit*, and you vvh
cupy a more humble station, whose heads are just h”"
the waves of adversity, my advice is the same to ,1,
you let tilts opportunity escape, you may be driven back t
adverse winds into the ocean of oblivion and plunged de ’ “ J
still deeper into its howling billows. °
CJ* Or iers from any part of the Union, post paid will
with prompt attention.—Addess to * 1 m#<t
N. M’GEIIEE,
February 20. Milledgevdle G„.
•mutant Encampment.
WITH a view to flic promotion of
Science, and the encouragement of Volunteer Cos '
a system of annual encampments is proposed.
Arrangements are in progress for an extensive Enca
ment in this neighborhood, to commence on the Ud'yion
day in May next, is which all the Volunteer Cornsd
Infantry in the State, are respectfully invited tojoin us
The time proposed tor the contini ance of the encainiim ~
is one week. A beautiful location has been selected cw
manding an extensive view of the Town and surroundiu
country. An arrangement has been made for the constrac
tion of comfortable Tents and Marques, for the accommoii
lion of all the companies that may come. A contract hu
been made with individuals who will act as sutlers, and 4.
nisli the men with good board, on the ground, at Tacts, each
per day. On the last day an Encampment Medal will ht tki
for. The first of the proposed series of encampments t«i
place near Macon last Spring, and was attended with mts*
benefit to the companies present.
I- D. BUCKNER,
*■l" - GREEN. I Committee
E. E. PARK, f 0 f
J. G. POEHII-L, | Arrangements
JOHN MILLER, j
CTThe Georgia papers are requested to publish the abvi
two or three tiines, as a matter of public accomodation.
Milledgeville, March 10, 1833. g_; (
NIK 4 HAKIsES.
r|!HIS distinguished, beautiful thorough bred Racer ad
A getter of Racers, will again stand at my son George Vs.
Johnson’s the ensuing season, within one mile of Moodyi
Tavern, in the county of Chesterfield, 18 miles from Petra
burg, and 22 from Richmond, and is now at bis stand readr
to serve mares, at $ 75 the season, payable on the Ist of As
gust next, when it will expire; but may be discharged wia
SGO before that time, $ 100 insurance, payable as soon asth
mare is known to be in foal, or parted with; One Dollar cask,
to the Groom. Mares that tailed to Sir Charles last year br
the season, will be insured this at the season price. Man
furnished with pasturage, which are excellent and extensin,
and servants sent with mares boarded gratis. Separate gn*
rye, and wheat lots for mares and colts, w ith Stables to pa
tect them from bad weather, and fed if required according
nrAmr.s.* —ItU..-, U—— ... grain, «.» 80 CCntS a daj. Y,
ability for accidents, but every necessary attention toprew
them.
SIR CHARLES was never in finer health, and therete
ver was a surer horse. He will be 16 years old this spriq
and has hern so often advertised, and it is so well knom
that it is only necessary to say that some of his Colls hn
won the following races within the last year:
The Jockey Club purse at Columbia, 4 mile heals;*
SSOOO match race at Charleston, 4 mile heats; the Jot*
Club purse at Charleston, 4 mile heats $1000; the c*
at Petersburg, 4 mile heats ; the two mile day there;«
jockey club purse, $ 1000, at Tree Hill; the 2 mile day tint
the 2 mile day at Fairfield; the best three in five there; ™
4 mile race at Baltimore, $2500 ; the 3 mile day there t
Norfolk the 4 mile and the 3 mile days ; the 2 mile da)
Broad Rock ; the 4 mile day and the 2 mile race at Lx
renceville ; the 2 mile race at Jerusalem ; the club raws
Gloucester Court-house; the Club & mile day at VVinterM
Fall 1832.—The jockey club purse at Broad Rock; the and»
purse, 4 miles and repeat qjNew Market; the two mileJx
there ; at Baltimore the S3OOO stakes, 4 mile heats; and a
jockey club purse, 4 mile heats there; one day atWinterizi
the 2 mile race at Norfolk; the jockey cub, 4 mile heili
at Tree Hill, $ 1000 ; the Club purse at Jerusalem; the pit
prietor’s purse at New Hope; the jockey club, and thept*
prietoor’s purse at Liberty; the club race at Milton ; the.
mile club race at Halifax, Virginia; the 3 mile day, the
mile day, and the best 3 in 5 day at Chrisliansville; the rid
race at Franklin Court-house ; the club race at Wythe Cm!
house; one day at Wheeling; the Sweepstakes at Heat
Bottom ; the race at Elizabethtown, and the race at 'law
ville, Ohio, where the field was distanced. All these Ha*
were won by Sir Charles’s get in 1832 These facts speak*
themselves, and recorded facts they are.
W. R. JOHNSON.
Chesterfield, February 19, 1833.
The Tliorough-Rred Race Horn,
ME HR VEUVE*
rr*HE Property of WM. R. JOHNSON, Esq. will slw
A the ensuing Season at the Plantation of Paul Litis®-*
near Augusta, and be let to marks at Thirty dollars the
son, Fifty to ensure. The money to be sent with the mas
Season from 10th March, to Ist July. Good pasturage ,
nished gratis; Grain at 25 cents per day. Mares at the r
of the owners,
HERR CLINE, nbeautiful bay, 5 feet 3 inches, «»>'*
by the justly celebrated Sir Ariiv, whose character lor
and Performances, the Turf Register will fully e*P! al “ j
dam, Georgians; by Alston’s Gallatin (son ot the imp ,
Bedford.) gr. dam Calipso, bred by Wyate ' ,V; r ’ 'a.,.
Charles City County, Virginian by the imported huo >
g. gr. dam by Eclipse, son of the imported Obscurt J, S',
gr. dam by Skipwith’s Figure ;g.g. g • g r - “ a P I EIJ
ported Horse, Baylor’s Fearnought, out of a thorou c
Mare.
Given under my hand, this 15th Feb. 1833. rtV .
W. K. JOHNoW-’-
PERFORMANCES.
HERR CLINE is only four years old this s P rl "‘" fc
will he trained and rnn again next Fall, and has run
lowing races: ~ MarkP
MAA r , 1832.—He won the Sweepstakes at New--’*
Virginia, beating four others, with the greatest easP '. on ,
Same week, lie won the great Stakes at the sameJ]
mile and repeat—9 Subscribers, S2OO each, with e- ,
heats. , Ccntril
Same month, he won the Sweepstakes over
Course, at Baltimore, one mile and repeat—a ■ q m .
S2OO each ; beating easily four others, a ™°"S *.
bin’s imported filly. He was then sold for 9* •' , jg eW
OCT. 1833.—He run for the great Stake* ° VP .' MC h;
Market Course, two mile heats —13 Subscribers, in
and proved second in the race, winning the sec
fine time. f , t |, e great
Next week, he went to Baltimore, and nut . s3e condto
Stakes, two mile heals, SSOO, half forfeit an
Medoc who won the race. , ,he Stake* -
Next week, he returned to Richmond, and wo easily,
7 Subscribers, two mile heats, S2OO each , ' •
Mr. Bolt’s Holla, by Gohanna. „nrietoi'xI >u, ’ ,i
He then went to Columbia, and won the 1 rop
2 mile heals, heating two others. JOHN'S^’
March, 13, 1*33.