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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.