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POETRY.
“Willi a poet's hand, and a prophet’s fire.
He struck the wild warbling* of his lyre”
FJB THE OroKGIA TIMSS.
Arm f >r your native land,
Wr.ere will you find*a braver;!
Low lay the tyrant hand.
Uplifted to enslave her.
Each hero draws.
In freedom's cause,
And me* is the foe with bravery ; j
The se-vi'e race,
Will turn their face,
* .a sf. v *■ rk ' s:.. very.
Chan s fe: ii:e I i-nr.l slave,
Kecrrant .uni s sh' u!d wear them,
But blessings on thebrave,
Whose valor will nut hear them.
Stand by your injured State,
And le* no feuds divide you ;
On tyrants fall thy hate.
And common vengeance guide you.
O! let them feel.
Proud freemen’s steel.
For freemen’s rights contending;
Where they die.
There let them lie,
To dust in shame descending.
Thus may each traitor fall,
Who dare as foe invade us;
Eternal fame to all,
Who shall in battle aid us.
THINK. OF TIE.
Go. where the water glideth gently ever,
Glideth by meadows that the greenest be ;
Go, listen to our beloved river.
And think of me!
Wander in forests, whore the small flower layeth,
Its fairy gem beside the giant tree;
Listen to the dim brook pining wile it playeth,
And think of me!
Watch when the sky is silver pale at even,
And the wind grieveth in the lonely tree;
Go, out beneath the solitary heaven,
And think of me!
And when the moon riseth as she wore dreaming.
And treadeth with white feet the lulled sea j
Go, silent as the star beneath her beaming ;
And think of me!
POLITICAL.
“Th« price of Liberty, is eternal vigilance.”
The reatlcr will be atnused at the letter w hich follows.
It is pretty certainly ascertained that there will be no
Minister to London for the present—the letters on Se
cession, to the contrary notwithstanding. Esau got the
mess of pottage, but Forsyth will get the embassy to St.
James —if there bean embassy.
WASHINGTON, March 14.
But little relative to the concerns of the Government,
lias transpired from the walls of the White.house since
Inauguration. The fatigue brought on by that ceremo
nial was attended with great distress to the President,
and several fainting fits followed, and other indisposition
for two or throe days. At present his health may be
said to be as usual—Most of those, however, who see
him occasionally remark the regular fading of his com
plexion—the gradual shrinking of his muscles. I infer
that he will not retain the physical ability to bear up un
der the labors required of him, perhaps for the year out!
The new Vice President begins to be looked up to as the
fountain from which must flow future Executive favors,
dionorand patronage! The Yorkers (as they are called
here) are not a little elated with the prospect of giving a
'Chief Magistrate to the Union, as an honor to which their
numerical strength and importance gives them a plausi
ble claim, to say nothing of the merits of their statesmen!
Rumors are still floating of contemplated chnnges in
the Cabinet—though these are spoken of lcssconfidcntly
than they were three or four weeks ago. Mr. Living
ston will pretty certainly goto France early in the sum
mer, and his retirement will probably be the signal for
the new arrangements to commence in the several De
partments. Mr. Stephenson of Virginia, is also mention
ed as likely to be selected for the Mission to the Court
of London, though many reject the idea as being too ri
diculous to he entertained! If this honor is conferred
on the gentlemen named, it may be said that he has
struggled hard for the distinction; and if the laborer is
worthy of his hire, it may also be remarked that few have
stronger claims—lndependently of Ins efforts on other
occasions, his late labored essay on the right of Seces
sion, (to prove that 2 and 2 make 4,) is such a one as
may not he easily resisted. If however, such shall be the
Sxccutivedesignation, it is hoped there will be annexed
to the appointment, a Secretary possessing some little
knowledge of the business connected with the trust. It
would be indeed a perilous state of things if the i xci
tion of the high duties was to real solely on his discre
tion and judgment. Indeed it may lid fear, and that the
Ronsumatc vanity of this gentleman may induce him to
take upon himself to manage the most delicate points* of
the Dwdomacy, in contempt of the opinions of the Sec
retar-, ur anyone else! 1m fhisc-.si* tin* JncK. Daw would
no. .e, \ lose some of.iis brilliant plumage, hut the Gov
ernment forfeit its claim to the r< spect it has heretofore
received for tin personal merit and talents of these agents!
It has not always been the practice to scud to St. James,
illiterate, conceited, third rate county court Attornies,
merely because they brawled loudest in favor of the do
minant party—some regard was had to the capacity and
rdignity of the party ap'iointed.
A handbill has, within a day or two, been circulated
iin this city, purporting to be the ropy of a letter address
ed to Mr. J. 11. Eaton, from D. P. G. Randolph, quon-
Main chief clerk to the Secretary and his brother-in-law,
snaking some extraordinary disclosures relative to the
•ex-Secretarv and his lady—-their connection while she
was Mrs. Tiinbcrlake—the causes of their marriage, <Vc.,
the whole reflectim; extreme discredit upon the parties;
that is, taking it for granted that the letter gives a just
view of the facts of the case. I). R. it seems, has ac
knowledged himself the author of the letter, though he
denies having authorised its publication. Why the dis
closures have been made at this particular moment, is
matter of conjecture—and so at present it must rest.
The paper will no doubt reach you.
The City ot Washington no longer presents the busy
scene of political bustle and intrigue it wore two or
three months ago—even the office-hunters scein to have
become weary of cringing, and have retired to meditate
new plans, or to other new pursuits. It is now emphat
ically one of the dullest places imaginable. The liber
ality of Congress to the city, enables the corporation to
process rapidly in improvements on the streets, bridges,
•Arc. So far, the McAdani plan of pavement is highly
approved, presenting a suiface, smooth, clean and firm.
The completion of these, with the bridges, aqueducts,
dsc. will confer on the city both neatness and conveni
ence.
SOUTH CAROLINA CONVENT!*»N.
m*ee< 11 or nn. j. l. wiimit.
On the mutton to strike out the preamble of the Or
dinance repealing the Ordinance ot Nullification.
Mr. Wilmom slid he was opposed to atriking out the
preamble—it stated tlie grounds upon which the Ordl
nanee tb# (Miwaare Nullification was
■r '’■***■ ‘"dy noptixji it* (try t*, wbelie r »/.#•
grounds were truly set forth— and upon this point he
challenged contradiction. It is true that some gentle
men wished the mediation of Virginia to be recited in
the pieambie, as a cause for rescinding the Ordinance ;
but for one, he was prepared to say, that mediation, ne
ver could have induced him to rescind the Ordinance of
Nullification. He might have consented to its suspen
sion, but to its repeal, no! never.
He observed, that he could not agree in the positions
taken by those that preceded him in debate—Gentlemen
were for recinding the Ordinance of Nullification, at the
very moment, they were denouncing the provisions of
Mr. Clay’s b’.li—lf he could agree with them as to the
character and hearing of that bill, he would lie opposed
riot only to tiie preamble but to the report and Ordinance.
Bu? he considered Mr. Clay’s bill not only a victory but
* a most glorious and decided victory. It was the triumph
of principle over New England avarice—The plunderer
had been driven irom his prey.
He asked, if the abolition of the minimum and speci
fic duties was not in itself a most decided victory—But
when it is taken into consideration that an ad valorem
duty not to exceed twenty per cent is to be the highest
impost to be levied after the year’42, have we not abun
dant cause for congratulation ? When you Mr. Presi
dent at the passage of the Tariffof ’.'l2, asked as a boon
for the South, that no specific duty should exceed 100
preent, you were promptly refused even that favor. At an
early period of our wrongs, we would have gladly accep
ted a tariff of 25 per cent and been content. But the
circumstances under which the bill passed, Mr. Wilson
observed, not only made it atrsumph, but a glorious tri
umph ! Let us advert to the state of our once happy
and flourishing country, mark its rapid and early deca
dence, view our position in the confederacy at the pas
sage of the law in question, and then we will he better
able to judge of its importance to us. It has been stat
ed by some who have looked into the subject, that as a
nation, the labor of South Carolina was more productive
than that of any other nation in the world. Whether
this be trucor not, one thing isccrtain, the people of S.
Carolina were atone time enjoying all the blessings that
wealth and prosperity could command. Our fields were
clothed with abundance—our cities were flourishing—
our commerce was active—and mechanic laliGr was rich
ly compensated. What is our present situation ? Our
fields are deserted, and the labor that tilled them, has
fled to Alabama, Louisiana and elsewhere! Our cities
are falling into ruins—our commerce gone—and our
mechanies without employment. We hsve been in the
habit, he said, of placing every thing to the account
of tho accursed tariff, and whilst he admitted that
much was fairly attributable to that fruitful source
of injury, yet much more might be safely put down to
the account of the continued withdrawal from the State
of the capital accumulated by mercantile operations, to
foreign countries. One thing was certain, that at the
passage of the Ordinance of Nullification we had reach
ed to such a point of wretchedness, that life had no en
joyments for us, and wo were willing to hazard the little
of fortune that was left, for the rights of which we had
been deprived.
Now Mr. President, he said, look to the situation of
the confederacy at the same time, and trace its course to
the passage of Mr. Clay’s bill. The Northern, Middle
and Western States were flourishing and happy. A Pre
sident whose choisest aliment is human blood, had just
been elected with great unanimity for four years from
the fourth of this month. He had issued a Proclama
tion, in winch lie said he would put down our devoted
State with the bayonet. This proclamation was respon
ded to with shoutings and hosannas, from one extreme
of the United States to the other. Our people were di
vided, and many were volunteering their services to the
tyrant. The nation was out of debt. The Bill of Blood
was passing triumphantly through the forms of legisla
tion ; a Bill which put the purse and the sword of the
nation in the hands of a despot—Nay, Sir, the Bill had
passed. Under this state of things, your Representa
tives in in Congress, as became them, defied the majori
ty, bearded the President, and told them that no more
tribute should he paid in South Carolina. What was
the conduct of the State at home ? Her loyal citizens
rallied around the Pa'rnetto Banner, and pledged them
selves to bear it in triumph, or die in the effort. They
were not dismayed—They quailed not, they shrunk not
from the position they had taken. W’hen the authors of
the Tariff of’32 found that that iniquitous act could he
enforced only with the hayonqt, when they ascertained
we were not to bo driven from our purpose, when they
learned with what contempt we treated the Proclama
tion of their Military Chieftain, they then gave us aTa
riff more favorable than we had asked and sued for, for
the last ten years. And is this no victory ? It is, Sir. a
glorious victory ! He said, hethought the Report of the
Committee ought to have assumed higher ground, than
it did. Me would have called it a decided victory. Wc
might without vain boasting or bravado, have congratu
lated each other upon the achievement. Unaided and
alone we gained all we asked.
There are seme, who think the time given to the pro
tection of the manufacturers too long. He said he did
not think so, let us be generous in the hour of triumph.
But if he thought it too long, he would still accept the
accomodation, for the ahitrament has been made by Con
mess, who had a better view of all the ground than we
have.
MISCELLANEOUS.
VOLTAIRE AND PIRON.
Voltaire was irascible and jealous to a great decree;
an instance of which is related in an accidental inter
view with Piron. Piron was a rival wit, who took a
strange delight in him, and whom he, consequently,
sincerely hated. Voltaire never missed an opportunity
of lashing his rival in the keen encounter of wit; and
Pt-on, equally liberal, left him but few advantages to
boast. One morning Voltaire called at the mansion of
the celebrated Madame de Pompadour, and was await
ing her coming in the salon. He had comfortably es
tablished himself on a fautcuil, anxiously expecting the
arrival of tne lady; for, thongh Voltaire’ was a philoso
pher, he was, nevertheless, a keen-scented courtier, and
seldom neglect* and an opportunity of ingratiating himself
with the powers that were. The door opened, and Vol
taire, arrayed in his best smiles, sprang foward to pav
his homage to the arbitress of patronage, when, who
should meet him, smirking, as it were, in mockcrv of
the poet, but the hated Piron! There was no retreating;
Voltaire, resolving to play the hero, drew himself up
with an air of hauteur, and, bowing slightly to Piron,
retired to the fautcuil from which he had arisen. Pi
ron acknowledged the salution with an equally indiffer
ent movement, and placed himself on a fautcuil exactly
opposite Voltaire. After some few moments passed iii
silence, the author of the Ifenriudc took from his (rock
et a black silk cap, which he usually wore when at
home, or in the presence of any one with whom he
thought he could take such liberties, end putting it on
his head, observed in a dry tone, and with great indiffer
ence of manner, “1 trust you will excuse me, but my
physician has directed me—”
“Make no ceremony, my dear friend,” interrupted
I iron, “for my physician has given me the same instruc
tions.”
So saving, lie very cooly put on his. Voltaire start
| ed at this unequivocal demonstration of contempt; hut
I as he had provoked it, he wasobligcd to put up with the
j affront. He was therefore compelled to limit his iudig.
. nation to the expression of h* countenance, which was
| but amiable or conciliating, and occupied
I himself exclusively with his own reflections. Piron
took no notice ol him, and the situation of the two poets
| because every moment more embarrassing. Madame
de Pmnnadnur did not arrive,and Voltaire was evident
ly n*it n, humour. Oe again sjf • r«J ir. |,„ |»s*kct, and
drawing from it % iiscuit, he began to cat it, offering as
an apology that his health was delicate.
“Pardon me, but in obedience to my physician, 1 am
compelled to eat—”
“No ceremony is necessary, my friend, when we act
in obedience to out physicians,” repeated the impertu
rable Piron, with an obsequious bow; and drawing from
his pocket a small bottle or flask, with which he was
usually provided, he uncorked it, and swallowed the
contents at a draught, at the same time testifying his ap
proval by smacking his lips with a violence perfectly
petrifying. This was too much. The irascibility of the
philosopher prevailed—and starting up, with indigna
tion in his couutenance, and starting a fierce look at
Piron, he exclaimed—“ How, sir, do you presume to
mock me?”
“Pardon me—far from that, 1 assure you,” mildly re
torted Piron, enjoying the rage and confusion ofhisrival;
“but my health is so indifferent, that my physician has
directed me to drink wine—and the effect is surprising
ly delicious.”
Fortunately at this moment Madame de Pompadour
entered, in time to prevent the progress of hostilities;
and if it was beyond her power to promote a good under
standing between the poets, she at least contrived to
engage their attention on subjects more worthy of their
talents. —Landscape Annual.
TIIF. WANDERING RED MAN OF THE MIAMI.
And oft, as the evening shade fell on the plain,
An aged red man met the hunter’s gaze,
Listening intently to the night birds strain,
Or musing o’er the deeds of by-gone days,
Seeming, in look, a man of care and grief,
To whom no change can give relief.
A tall; athletic white man,as the sun sank slowly be
hind the western forest shade, was seen to enter a lone
ly cabin upon the woody shores of the Miami ; but he
had hardly thrown off his hunting apparatus, before the
horrid war-cry of the bloody Sioux struck upon his car ;
and soon a numerous hand of that ferocious tribe hound
ed like startled deer through the frail barrier of his
dwelling.
Here, however, they met with an unfriendly reception;
for soon the sharp report of the hunters rifle announced
the departure of one red chieftains spirit to the hunting
grounds of the blest.
They then hound him and departed towards the set
ting sun, and on the evening of tlte succeeding day drew
near to the village of the tribe. Here they halted, and
sent a deputation forward to inform the chiefs of their re
turn. These immediately returned, and soon the whole
party began to move. The whippoorwill’s plaintive note
was heard from the otherwise silent wilderners ; as the
village exhibited a long dark row of swarthy old men,
squatvs and children, who lined both sides of the open
trail; and upon seeing their well known friends, scream
ed out with horrid yells. One singularly dressed squaw
(the wife of the fallen chief,) tore han lsfull from her
dissbeveiled locks, while she laid herself open to the
bone with a sharp instrument, howling throughout the
operation, the death song, the Sioux soups, but on see
ing the hunter, as he ran the gauntlet, she caught the
hatchet from the hand? of a warrior, and gave the victim
a deep wound on the thigh ; then pressing the crimson
fluid to her lips, she returned the instrument to its owner
and shaking her finger at the hunter with a hollow laugh
entered a neighboring lodge, while the hunter was con
ducted to prison. As the first rays of morning gleamed
upon the hill, the hunter saw through the crevices of his
prison, numerous swarthy chieftains moving amid the vis
tas of the forest towards the council fire of the tiibc.—
Halfan hour or more had elapsed, and the hunter tortu
cd with suspense, turned from the openings in his apart
ments and threw himself upon the houghs of a pine tree
which composed his bed. At this instant he heard a
rustling outside, and immediately the window opened,
which heretofore appeared to him to he sollid logs,
through which a young Indian maiden entered. She nf
once with a sharp knife, severed the withes that confined
his arms, and set him at liberty. She then placed her
hand upon her breast, and lifting her eyes, while a deep
sigh burst from her lips, said in the hunter’s tongue, “the
Sioux chiefs have doomed you to be burnt; but the Sioux
maiden loves the pale chief; she has set him at liberty;
will the pale face, in return, let the light fawn live in his
wigwam?”
“God knows I will,” cried the hunter in rhapsody; “the
pale chief will not he like the French dogs.”
“It is enough,” cried the maiden, then turning, she
blew a small reed, and soon three savages entered, bear
ing each a knapsack, gun, and other equipments for a
march. She pointed to a heap of dry drift wood, to which
the savage quickly moved,'and handed the hunter his
trusty rifle, and a knapsack well filled with provisions.
They then assisted the maiden to climb the window
when site was soon safe on the other side, followed by
tlte hunter and the Indians, who struck offinto a lonely
rugged trail, and were soon far from the Sioux lodge.
And when the evening shade settled down on the leafv
forest, they reached the Chippewa village.
Mere, upon declaring themselves to a French Jesuit,
who married them, they were received with opened arms
by tlte chic-Is who gave them a beautiful hut on the bor
ders of a pleasant stream and made them live in safety.
The white man soon became a favorite with the chiefs,
in the morning against the wishes of his lovely wife;
he joined a hunting expedition towards the west.
Three tedious weeks rolled away, and nought was heard
of the little band; but on the first day of the fourth week
an Indian runner, breathless with haste entered the vil
lage, and communicated to her the unwelcome news of
her husband being captured and doomed to death by a
party of her incensed nation. She spoke not, but stood
motionless for a longtime; then, as though a sudden ray
of hope had dispelled the melancholy forebodings of her
imagination, she departed towards the west with the ut
most secrecy, and in the course of the next day stood
upon a high ascent which overlooked the village of ti c
Sioux. Loud ivar-hoops now fell upon her ear, sending
back the warm blood to her heart. She looked again to
wards the village, and perceived a prisoner led out’ bound
to the horrid stake. She uttered a faint scream, and
darted down the hill with the rapidity of an elk, entered
the circle and threw herself upon her husband’s neck.
“The squaw of the pale chief will die with him,” said
the maiden, in answer to her husband’s reproof for seek
ing him.
The eves of the painted warriors glistened with tears
of admiration, at this token of love, hut their hearts were
soon changed to stone bv the hoarse voice of their chief
tain, commanding them to sing the war song of the Sioux;
as he advanced with his lifted tomahawk towards the
prisoner. For a moment he gazed upon the hunters
features, and then with a horrid denunciation, let fall the
glittering hatchet, but the maiden sprang foward vnd re
ceivcd the blow. Then, with an angelic smile, she
pressed the hand of her husband and fell lifeless into the
arms of her agonized father. The chief cast one solita
ry look towards the remains of his once lovely daughter,
and then, bidding the hunter depart in safety to the land
of his fathers, ho buried his head in his blanket, and was
led by the young warrior to his lodge.
The hunter, after shedding tears of deep sorrow over
the light fawn’s grave, returned to the settlements of the
whites on the shorr ß 0 f the Atlantic, while the Sioux
chief wandered forth upon the banks of the Miami, an
unhappy maniac. And oft in after years, as the whites
passed by a lonely hut on the hanks of the Miami, at
evening’s silent hour a strange red mad, with his flush
torn by the sharp tlioins of the thickets, would meet
them and point towards a lock of raven hair, which hung
by his side; then uttering a hideous yell, would bound
| into the forest startling the ravenous wild cat from her
pn y, and leaving the stranger* to pursue their route, un
| aide to learn what he was, save that lie Imre, among the
[white hunters, the appellation of the Wandurwg Red
Man of the Muon .
Disguise thytelf as thou wilt, atill, alavery, said l,—
still thou art a bitter draught! and though thousands in
all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no
less bitter on that account ’Tis thou, thrice sweet and
gracious goddess, addressing myself to liberty, whom all
in publick or in private worship, whose taste is grateful,
and never will be so, till nature herself shall change—
No tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymick
power turn thy sceptre into iron;—with thee to smile
upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is happier than
his monarch; from whose court thou art exiled.—Gra
cious heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the last step
but one in my ascent, grant me but health, thou great Be
stower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my
companion,—and shower down thy mitres, if it soems
good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads which
are aching for them!— Sterne.
AGRICULTURAL.
THE ECONOMY OF AGRICULTURE.
by John Taylor, of Carolina, Virginia.
There is no object less understood, nor more gener
ally mistaken than this ; nor any more essentia! to the
prosperity of agriculture. Sufficient to afford matter
for an entire treatise, it cannot he embraced by a short
chapter. But a short chapter may put minds upon the
tract, able to unfold its involutions with every branch of
agriculture, and more specially to disclose its value.
Diminutions of comforts, necessaries and expense,
are too often mistaken for the means of producing the
ends they obstruct, and the rapacity which starves, fre
quently receives the just retribution of a disappoint
ment, begotten by a vicious mode of avoiding it.—From
the master down to the meanest utensil, the best capa
city for fulfilling the contemplated ends, is invariably
the best economy ; and the same reasoning which de
monstrates the had economy of a shattereuloom, will de
monstrate the bad economy of a shattered constitution,
or an imperfeetstate of body. The cottagers who in
flict upon themselves and their families the discomforts
of cohl houses, had bedding and insufficient clothing, to
acquire .wealth, destroy the vigour both of the mind and
body, necessary for obtaining the contemplated end, at
which of course, they can never arrive. The farmer
who starves his slaves, is still a greater sufferer. He
loses the profits produced by bealth.strcngth and alacrity;
and suffers the losses caused by disease, weakness and
dejection. A portion, or the whole of the profit, arising
from their increase is also lost. Moreover, he is ex
posed to various injuries from the vices inspired by se
vere privations, and rejects the best sponsor for happi
ness, as well as prosperity, by banishing the solace of
labour. In like manner, the more perfect, the
more profitable are working animals and implements,
and every saving by which the capacity of either to fulfil
their destiny in the best manner is diminished, termi
nates with certainty in some portion of loss, and not un
freqnently in extravagant waste. Even the object of
manuring is vastly affected by the plight of those ani
mals by which it is aided.
A pinching miserly system of agriculture, may in
deed keep a farmer out of prison, but it will never lodge
him in a palace. Great profit depends on great im
provements of the soil,and great improvements can never
be made by penurious efforts. The discrimination be
tween useful and productive, and useless and barren
expenses contains the agricultural secret, for acquiring
happinessand wealth. A good fanner will sow the first
with an open hand, and eradicate every seed of the other.
Liberality constitutes the economy of agriculture, and
perhaps it is the solitary human occupation, to which
the adage, “the more tve give, the more we shall re
ceive.'* can be justly applied. Liberality to the earth
in manuring and culture, is the fountain of its bounty
to us. Liberality to slaves and working animals, is the
fountain of their profit. Liberality todomestick brutes,
is manure. By raising in proper modes a sufficiency of
incat for our labourers, we bestow a strength iqion their
bodies, and a fertility upon the ground, either of which
will recompense us for the expense of the meat, and the
other will be a profit. The good work of a strong
team, causes a profit beyond the bad work of a weak one,
after deducting the additional expense of feeding it;
and it saves moreover half the labour of a driver, sunk
in following m had one. Liberality in warm houses
produces health, strength and comfort ; preserves the
lives of a multitude of domestic animals; causes all an
imals to thrive on less food ; and secures from damage
all kinds of crops. And liberality in the utensils of
husbandry, saves labour to a vast extent, by providing
the proper tools for doing the work both well and
expeditiously.
Foresight is another item in the economy of agricul
ture. It consist in preparing work for all weather, and
doing all work in proper weather, and at proper times.
The climate of the United States makes the first easy,
and the second less difficult than in most countries.—
Ruinous violations of this important rule are vet fre
quent from temper and impatience.—Nothing is more
common than a persistence in ploughing, making hay,
cutting wheat, and other works, when a small delay
might have escaped a great loss ; and the labour em
ployed to destroy, would have been employed to save.
Crops of all kinds are often planted or sown at impro
per periods or unseasonably, in relation to the state of
the weather, to their detriment or destruction, from the
want of an arrangement of the work on a farm, calcula
ted for doing every species of it precisely at the periods,
and in the seasons, most likely to enhance its profft.
A third item in the economy of agriculture is not to
kill time by doing the same twice over. However la
boriously at work, we are doing nothing during one of
the operations, and frequently worse than nothing, on
account of the double detriment of tools, teams andclo
tiling. The losses to farmers occasioned by this cr
rour, are prodigious under every defective system of
agriculture, and under ours arc enormously enhanced
by the habit of sharing in the crop with an annual over
seer. . Shifts and contrivances innumerable arc re
sorted to, for saving present time, by bad and perishable
work, at an enormous loss of future time, until at length
the several fragments of time thusdestroyed, visibly ap
pear spread over a farm, in the form of ruined houses,
orchards and soil; demonstrating that every advantage
of such shifts is the parent of many disadvantages, and
that a habit of finishing every species of work in the
best mode, is the best economy.
The high importance of this article of agricultural
economy, demands an illustration.—Let us suppose
that dead wood fencing will consume ten per centum of
a farmci’s time, which supposstion devotes about thirty,
six day’s in the year to that object. It would cost him
five whole years in fifty. If his farm afforded stone, and
his force could in one whole year make his enclosures of
that lasting material, he would save four whole years by
tins more perfect operation ; exclusive of the benefits
gamed by a longer life, or transmitted to his posterity.
If his farm, did not furnish atone, as livo fencescan be
made with fiinnitcly less labour than stone, his saving
of ume would he greater by raising them, but the donai
tion to posterity less, from their more perishable nature.
It seems to me that the time necessary to rear and re- '
pair fences, it less than one tenth of that consumed by 1
those of dend wood. By doing this article of work in a
imxlc thus surpassing the pr. sent miserable fencing ,
•Mfts m «**, „.. r fanner* wou'H pm so enormous urn. t
fit of four years and a half in fifty, and an entir. -
try, that of nine years in each hundred T. 60111
stitutes profit or loss in agriculture, and many other ?
ployrnents. Such an enormous loss is transform i
to an equivalent gain, the difference of eiirhte "
centum to the same country might retrieve it nn
case simply consists of the difference between n
and receiving enormous usury, for the sake nr’J~T‘ n
rich. 01 grown
I have selected a few items merely to attract th
der’s attention to the economy of agriculture
own sagacity may pursue the subject bevond’the 1 °
assigned to these essays. It is one highly necessary™!
all practical men, and worthy of the minute conoid
tioh of the most profound mind ; nor do 1 know o
hibiting to experience and talents a stronger im
to make themselves useful. 8 “ u
M’GEHEE^
LOTTERY AID EXCHANGE OFFICE.
MILLEDGEVILLE, GEO.
No Tariff ! No Protective Syxiein " v„ B
served Right* !!! No Indian Settlement, rr!
f pHh band buttery is completed, and those who “Th"
L Fortune” lias omitted inhergoMen showers would !
well to turn their attention to the ’ ° 0
Tlte New-York Consolidate a Lottery,
It offers greater inducements to the adventurer lk.
scheme ever offered to the public before. u i'S
and NO BLANKS, what a speculation ! an iml yi,|„lr‘
vesting the small amount of s■> 50, is compelled toT "
prize, and from the fact of his being oblia«dto draw I
secure the comfortable prize of THIRTY'
DOLLARS, which would be the means of rescuing him^,
the confines of oblivion, and placing him upon that
station, the attributes of which are ienlth, /X JS
You aspirants for fame, let not this goUUn onportuStar'
without reaping some of its golden fruits, and you wU*
cupy a more humble station, whose heads are just X
the waves of adversity, my advice is the same to you
you let this opportunity escape, you may be driven hack l
adverse winds into the ocean of oblivion and plunged d«'n.
still deeper into its howling billows. V ° aee P e
Ip* Orders from any part of the Union, post paid will
with prompt attention.—Addtsss to ’
* N. ATGEIIEE,
FebrU * rySo - Milledgevill# Geo.
In flic Press,
At the Times ft State Right’s Advocate Office, Milledgerili
And will be published in a few weeks
TISE I'EI/CS
DRAWN
as s?iaa ©maaoasaa a®aaai#y,
The Ist and 2d quality, and of the 3d having improrenieau
THE DRAWER'S NAME AND RESIDENCE.
Compiled from tho Numerical Book*
After a careful uxnmlnnf lon of them by the Comlai*^,,
Price Three Dollars.
The Interest which is manifested throughout the State V
be possessed of information relating to the interestino
tion known as the Cherokee country, and the importance c
all information that can be obtained in regard to its m,
graphical position—the quality of its land—its boundarisi
water courses, roads, &c. has induced the publishers hereol
at the entreaties of many persons, by industrious applicatia
and at considerable expense, to undertake the publication c
this little volume. They are flattered with the hope, tha
its usefulness will be appreciated by all who are interest*'
in the acquirement of this important portion of our Stan
The publishers feel assured that they donot over estimtni
the information it imparts, and the great convenience m
facility, by which it can be acquired; and, altho’ there nu
be inaccuracies in its descriptive character, (from the possi
bility that entirely correct returns were not always made b’
the District Surveyors) yet, as it is the most correct that cai
be obtained, without a personal knowledge of every lot, it ma»
be considered the best information the nature of the cas
admits of. Os one fact, the reader is guaranteed, that thi
Rook wears a correct and official stamp—as it was copi«
with accuracy from the Numerical Books, now of file ini
Executive Department of the.'State, after thoss Books ww
thoroughly examined by the late Land Lottery Commissu*
era. The accuracy and fidelity of the quality of each lo
was ascertained, by especial reference to the field notes i
the District Surveyors, and their detached plats. To tha
desiderata, may be stated, that the No. of each lot, in t
district and section, by whom drawn, in whose captains (til
trict, and in what county, are equally, and entirely authesri
It must be a desirable object to both the drawer, and fa
purchaser, to have a Book of the kind we herewith submitl
the public ; as it embodies in a compressed and in a portabl
form, ail the memoranda information which both purchase
and seller could have, without occular knowledge or fret
information dearly purchased, if procured otherwise.
The Book will contain a Numerical list of all thelotsdrawi
in the different sections of the Land Lotterv, excepting end
as are returned third quality ; and if any of the third qualit
has any improvement on it, such lot also will be embrace!
I o each lot, will be affixed a letter a, b, or e, which desig
nates the quality ; a tor the first, b for the second, and c to
the third ; and have also attached the Nos. of acres improve
the drawer’s name, the district in which he gave in a
fortunate drawer, and the county in which he resides,and th
No. of his lot, and the district and section in which it i*loci
ted. \\ lienever a district is not represented particularly
the reader will learn that all the lots in said district, (as li
tho sth and other districts,) are returned third quality—Ti
each district its boundary is stated, with tome brief,but appli
cable remark 8.
The publishers forbear any further exordium of this, their
“little effort”—prefering that itsmeritand usefulness shal
speak more audibly its own praise. Such as it is, (and iti'
hoped, it will be pronounced good) is respectinlly dedicate!
to the people of Georgia, hy THE PUBLISHERS.
Orders, (postage paid,) enclosing Three Dollars, will hi
promptly attended to. Address
M. D. J. SLADE, Miliedgeville.
PROSPECTUS OF THE
Herald of the fwold Kcffion
A Weekly XfM.apnptr,
To be published at Lumpkin Court House, Georgia,
ar,r JA'iUior/ (smusa &
fIMIE recent organization, and the rapid setllemenl and ;s
provements now going on In that interestin'; portion «
the territory of Georgia, known ns the Cherokee Countrtr
seem to require that an additionional vehicle of public int p r
ligence should be added to the number already located in dir
ferent parts of our State. For that purpose is the harbing*
of the forthcoming “Herald” presented.
Its objects will be to furnish to the community in which w
reside, the usual newspaper intelligence, and to its patron
in other sections of the Union more remote, such infonnatioi
in relation to the mineral wealth, ordinary productions of |
soil, and natural curiosities, with which this section ol
country eminently abounds, as will be both interesting an
instructive. Its location is by far the richest part of the
Region, and where nature has signaily blended the f®®*?,
with the sublime, will give it advantages for the accompli*
ment of these objects, to which but few can lay claim.
The limited space which may be devoted to polities,
be occupied in disseminating what we believe to be to
Republican doctrines of the Jeffersonian school. » n 11
shall endeavor to be liberal and temperate. V\ ell wrlttc ,
says upon all sides of this subject, when they do
sere with tho private character of individuals, s ‘ l3i 1 .
place in our columns; as will also those of a literary,
tific and miscellaneous description. . s [, a ]l
With this very brief exposition of our design,
submit ottr work to the public. Upon their decision
(tend its long continuance, and its final success. „ m
The first number of the “ Herald ot the Gold R®B * mot
bo issued on or about the 19th of March IlC \ l ' ona ■ sub
al Sheet, ii will be printed with new type. Ihe P roUt
Kcription will be trmkc dollars per annum in advan .
dollars at the end of the year. Os those wnore* _j van cc.
tho State, payment will in all eases be required in
Advertisements inserted at the customary, p r >cf*._
Holders of subscription papers will p!t’ o,< ’ 1
directed to bumpkin Court-house, Lumpki .
ions to the time fixed upon for commencing 1
February 111, 1833. _ 8018
Editors of newsiitiiiers in this and other ■ ,
for a favor by giving the abuvu a few inwrliwb
the attention of their waders to it.