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IPOETRY.
""a HEART TO SELL! WHO’LL Bl 1.
Anew sosg, written expressly for Miss Clara
Fisher, and sung by her with enthusiastic ap
plause. The music composed by C. E. Horn.
Oli, yes ! Oh, yes! I’ve a heart to sell
Who’ll buy ? who’ll buy 1 who’ll buy ?
’Tis new—’tis fresh, and furnished well.
Who'll buy ? who’ll buy ? who’ll buy ?
’Tis bosotned where ’tis never cold.
No prying eyes have seen it;
’Tis worth, at least, its weight in gold,
For love ne’erdweit within it.
Who’ll buy ? who’ll buy I who'll buy ?
Does any one bid more I
If sold the bidder must be free.
Who’ll buy? who’ll buy? who’ll buy ?
If let the lease for life must be !
Who’ll buy ? who'll buy ? who'll buy ?
Or if there’s one with whom resides
A heart not prone to range,
That’s kind, and free, and young besides,
i’ll take it in exchange.
Who’ll buy? who’ll buy? who’ll buy ?
’Tis going!—going ! —gone !!
MISCELLAHEOIS.
Front the Emporium arul True American
MY GRANDMOTHER.
llow common lias it become to laugh at
the sayings and doings, of those ancient per
sonages who have filled the mcasuie of their
being and departed to “ that distant bourne j
from whence no traveller returns.” is it
witty to tell some piece of jfleusant nonscncc i
as “one of tny grandmother’s stories.” 1 !
bear so much of this, especially among the I
younger branches of families,that lam tempt
ed to tell one, and only one, of mu grand
mother’s stories, by way of rebuke.
1 recollect the scene perfectly well. It
was a cold winter’s night, and the wind whis
tled round the corners of the house as though
it had a world of uncharitahlcness at heart,
while the blazing fire on the hearth fairly
roared defiance to the blast. My mother was
reading at the table—my grandmother, with
spectacles on, and the old fashioned alder
sheath at her side, was quietly sitting in the
chimney corner, knitting the tedious round of
what her industry hy-aiid-hv fashioned into a
comfortable stocking. Near her feet lay I
Tray and the eat,and in the opposite corner I
sat my sisters whispering to each other the 1
spirit stirrmg events of a country party they i
had attended the evening before. There j
was a loud knock at the door, and in came the i
sons of a neighbor, Charles and Samuel Tro- !
pham. The girls handed chairs to them, and '
in five minutes they were all click-clack about j
the party. Their tongues ran like spuming- 1
jennies, producing very long and valueless
yarns. From the details of the previous e
vening’s entertainment, they passed to the re
lation of a thousand petty incidents and foo-l
ish stories ; and Charles Tophani usually pre
faced those he was about to relate,with “now
this one of the old woman’s;” or affixed to ev
ery remark, “as granny said,” to the infinite
amuseinetof my sisters, who saw a volume of
wit in these slurs upon the grey hairs of their
sex.
As the young (oiks enjoy ed themselves, 1
observed that my grandmother knit much fas
ter than usual, and evidently was not pleased
with all that reached her ears. At length, in
the midst of a scarcely half suppressed laugh
and titter from the opposite corner at one of
of Charles’ stories, my venerable ancestor
dropped her work, raised Ik r gktsscss, and to
the great surprise of the mciry-makers, said :
“That remark of yours, Charles,reminds me
of w hat took place in l’arcipancy when 1 was
a girl. It was there, at that time, the fashion
for most every one to say “ as their grannies
had said. ’ The young men were always
■telling their “ grandmothers stories,” and the
girls never failed to titter at what “came from
the old women.” If a stranger arrived at the
place, he was greeted in this phrase, and
when he departed, they bid him “good-day
and who cares,” as their snappish grand
mothers had done. All the folly of their
grannies seemed to have descended to the
second generation, who added vanity to folly.
Audit became so common a saying in the
country round, “if you want a granny or a fool,
go to I’arcipaticy,” tiiat I was glad to escape
from the village, with the hope of getting a
•sensible man for a husband. Were you ev
er in Parcipancy, Charles?”
My grandmother looked very grate —I saw
a smile stealing along my mother’s lips—the
girls looked most roguishly arch—Sant Top
ham roared aloud—ami Charles, looking at
his watch, said it was time they were home!
RUSTICUS.
The following humorous skctchof the pro
cess by which a Town formed, is from a work
on Political Economy, by l)r. McCullock, of
the University of Jxindou:
ORIGIN OF A TOWN.
There is a church, this is the ordinary foun
dation. Where there is a church there must
he a parson, a clerk, ,a sexton, and a midwife.
Thus we account for four houses. An inn is
required on the road. This produces a smith,
a butcher and a brewer. The parson, the
clerk, the sexton, the midwife, the butcher,
the Smith, the sadler and the brewer, require
a baker, a tailor, a shoemaker, and a carpen
ter. They soon learn to eat plumb puddings,
and a grocer follows. The grocer’s wife and
the parson's wife contend for superiority in
dress, whence follows a milliner, and with a
milliner a mantuamaker. A barber is intro
duced to curl the parson’s wig, and to shave
the smith on Saturday nights, and-a stationer
to furnish the ladies with paper, for their sen
timental correspondence; an exciseman is set
to guage the casks, and a school master dis
covers that the ladies can not spell. A hat
ter, a hoiser and a linnen draper, follow by
degrees; and as children come into the world,
they begin to cry out for rattlers ami ginger
bread. The parson becomes idle and gouty,
and gets a curate, and the curate gets twenty
children ami a wife; thus it becomes neces
sary to have more shoemakers, and tailors
and grocers. Alas! too happy people! for in
the meantime a neighboring apothecary bear
ing with itidignatiori, that there is a communi
ty living without physic, places three blue
bottles in window j, when, on a sudden, the
butcher, the innkeeper. »itd the gtocet’s wife
becomes bilious, and find that they have got!
nerves, and their children get w ater in their L
head, and teeth, and convulsions. They are J
hied and blistered till a physician finds it'
convenient to settle; the inhabitants become
worse and worse every day, and an underta
kcr is established. The butcher, having cal-,
led the tailor pricklottse, over a pot ot ale,
Snip, to prove his manhood, knocks him down
with his goose. Upon this plea, an action of!
assault is brought at the next sessions. An
attorney sends his clerk over to take depo
sitions and collect euidenc?, the clerk find
ing a good opening, sets all the people by ti e
cars, becomes a pettifogging attorney, and
peace flies the village forever! But the vil
lage becomes a town, acquires a bank, a me
chanic's institute, a circulating libraiv, and
! a colrri of old maids; and should it have ex
j isted in happier days, might have gamed a
| corporation, a mayor, a quarter, session of its j
j own. a country assembly, the assizes, and the ;
gallows.”
We have been politely favoured with the j
perusal of the MSS. of anew novel, from the
pen of Judge llall, author of the popular “Le
gends of the IFcst.” The work will soon he
published by those enterprising booksellers ;
Key and Biddle. The literary public may be ,
sure of a rich treat in the present volume. It
abounds with fine sketches of western life,
manners and scenery ; the incidents are all
well tc.ld—many of them exciting:—arid
what is more, they arc all probable, "c
give one chapter below, the only one wc could
conveniently detach from the context. The j
hero of the story is travelling in the West,
and encounters the Snake Killer, whose hap.
tisttial name, Hercules, has been reduced,
“ for shorlues” to the monosylable cognomen
of Hark. Having introduced the rara trris,
we leave his exploits to unfold themselves.
Phil. Gaz.
“ All at once his tiled horse, who was mo
ving slowly along the hardly perceptible path,
with the bridle hanging on his neck, suddenly
stopped, as the path turned almost at right!
angle round a dense thicket. A few paces
before him, and until that instant concealed
by the thick brush, stood a miserable squalled j
hoy, intently engaged in watching some oh- j
jectnot far from him. A small, gaunt, wolf- j
looking starved dog, crouched near h:m, eqal
ly intent, on the same game, so that even his j
quick eardid not catch the tread of the horse’s j
feet as they rustled among the dry leaves,!
until the parties were in close contact. The |
dog then, without moving, uttered a low
growl, which the car of his master no sooner
caught, than Returned round, and seeing Mr. j
Ecc, started up, and was about to fly. But
George exclaimed, “ My little man, I’ve lost
my way,” and the lad stopped, eyed the trav-1
eller timidly, and then looked carnesly to
wards the spot to which his glance had been J
before directed.
‘ I have missed tny way,” continued Mr.
Lee, “ and am almost starved.”
“ Cant you wait a minute till I kill that ar
snake ?” replied Ilark—for it was he.
The traveller looked in the direction imit
ated by the boy’s finger, and saw an immense
rattlesnake, circled with his head reared in
the centre, his mouth enclosed, his fierce eyes
gleaming vindictively,and all his motions in
dicating a watchful and enraged enemy.—
Hark gazed at the reptile with an eager and
malignant satifaction. Ilis features, ustialy
. stupid, were now animated with hatred ami
triumph. The scene was precisely suited to
interest the sportsmanlike propensities of Mr.
George Lee, if he had not happened to be too
hungry to enjoy any thing which might delay
him any longer in the wilderness.
“ Kill the snake hov,” said lie impatiently,
“and then show me the way to some house.”
Hark motioned with his finger as if enjoin
ing silence, and replied laconically, “ it aint
ready yet.”
The rattlesnake now raised his tail and
| shook his rattles, as in defiance, and then as
1 if satisfied with this show of valor, and find
ing that his enemies made no advance, hut
stood motionless, slowly uncoiled himself and
began to glide away. Ilark left his position
with noiseless steps alertly made a small cir
■ euitso as to place him in front of the enemy.
The snake raised his head, darted out his
j tongue and then turned to retreat in another
direction, hut no sooner had he presented his
j side to Ilark, than the intrepid snake killer
bounded forward and alighted with both his
! feet on the neck of the reptile, striking rnpicl
j Iv, first with one fool attd then with the otlmr,
hut skilfully keeping his victim pinn 1 to the
ground, so as to prevent the use of its fangs,
j The snake in great agony now twisted the
j whole of its long body round Hark’s leg, and
i At the hoy delighted to witness the wrigliting
i of his foe, stood for a while grinning in tri
umph. Then carefully seizing the reptile by
tne neck, which he held firmly under his foot
lie deliberately untwisted it from his leg, and
: threw it on the ground at some distance from
I him, and seemed to he preparing to renew
s the contest.
j “ You stupid boy,” cried Mr. Lee, “ why
don’t you take a stick and kill tho snake?”
“ That aint the right way,” replied Ilark,
| and as the venomed creature, disabled and
i sadly bruised, essayed to stretch its length on
i the ground, to retreat, the snake killer again
j jumped on it, and in a few minutes crushed it
todeath w ith his feet. Then taking it up in
[ liis hand he surveyed it with his peculiar grin
of joy, counting the rattles as he separated |
! them from the body, with ari air of triumph,
I as great as that of the hunter when he nuin
-1 hers the antlers of a noble buck.
Mr. Lee gazed at this scene with unfeign
ed astonishment. Though no mean adept !
| himself in the art of destroying animal life, he ]
had never before witnessed such an exhibi
tion. The diminutive size of the youth, his!
meagre and fam'shed appearance, his wretch
ed apparel, together with the skill and intie- j
polity displayed in this nondescript warfare,!
with a creature (scarcely his inferiorjin any re
spect, strongly excited his curiosity.
“ Well, you’ve beaten your enemy,” said
he in an encouraging tone.
“ Yes, I reckon I’ve saved him. ’
“ But why did you not take a club to it!”
“ It amt the right nay. I never go snaking
with a j*olc-”
“ What is your name ?”
“ Do you live about here strafiger. ’
“ No, 1 am a traveller, from A irginia, and .
was gnin to 7/endrickson’s srttleincnt, when
1 lost tay wav.”
“ People’s mighty apt to get lost, when
they don’t know the range,” replied Hark,
familiarly encouraged by the stranger's atla
bi lity.
“ Where do you live V' inquired Mr. Lee,
endeavoring to conciliate the half savaged
being, whose friendship was now important
to hi in.
“ I don't live no where, in perliklar."
“ But seem acquainted with these woods. I
“ Y es, 1 use about heie, some.”
“How do you employ yourself?”
“ 1 hunt some, and snake a little : and when
I liaiut nothi n else to do I go a lizzardm. ’
“ Lizzardih ! what in the name of sense is
that ?”
“ Killcn lizzards,” replied the hoy father
conscquentiably, •' I use up all the varmints,l
come across.”
“ Then you must frog it some,” said Mr.
Lee, laughing.
“ Oh yes—and there's a powerful chance
of the biggest bull frogs you ever see down,
in the slash yonder. It would do you goo ’
to go there in the night and here eti» sing. 1
reckon there’s more frogs and water snakes
there, than there is in all N irginia.”
“ I have no curiosity to sec them. And
now my lad, if you will guide me to the set
tlement, I will satisfy you generously for j
your trouble.”
Hark made objections—it was too far—he |
could not tell the distance—but it was far- j
titer than lie could walk in a titty. Mr. Lee
then begged to he conducted to the nearest j
house ; hut the snake-killer shook his head, j
“ Surely you lodge somewhere,” exclaim-1
ed the \ irginian growing impatient, “ take
me to your camp and give me something t j
eat. lam starving.”
Ilark seemed irresolute, and continued to i
eye the traveller with a childish curiosity !
mingled with suspicion ; then as if anew ]
idea occurred to him, he inquired “ where’s j
your gun, mister?”
“ 1 have none.”
For the first time the melancholy visage
of Ilark distended into a broad grin, as ho
exclaimed, “ well I never see a man that hud
not a gun. If tt aint no offence, stranger,
what do you follow for a living?”
“Why, nothing at all you dunce,’ said
George, “ 1 am a gentleman,”
Hark was as much puzzled as ever. “In
North Carolina,’ said he, “where 1 was raised,
the people’s till gentlemen, except the wo
men, and they ail have guns - ’
“All this is nothing to the purpose—will
you not show’ the way to your camp?”
“Well—l reckon—” replied Hark, with.,
drawing a few steps, “1 sort o’ reckon it
would’nt be best.”
“What objection can you possibly have?”
“I am afeured.”
“Yen need not fear me, lean do you no
harm, if 1 felt so disposed, and I have no dis
position to injure you.”
‘•Wont you beat me?”
“Certainly not,”
“Nor take my skins from me?”
“No, no, 1 would not harm you upon any
consideration,”
“Well then, I reckon. I’ll take you to my
camp.”
So saying,Hark marched off through the
woods followed by Mr. George Lee.
“ Vcl, rat ish a man to dot" —A very
simplc question, and a very natural one for
a man in a dilemma to ask—vat ish a man
to do?—Every man is liable to get into thili
culliits, from which he may see no possible
way to extricate himself-—in thatcasc, vat ish
a man to do ! If a man is attacked by su
perior force, and there’s no retreat vat ish a
mart to do ?—lf a man becomes harrassed in
his financial concerns,, and his resources arc
exhaust ed, vat ish a man to do? If a man
is sober and industrious, and honest, and fru
gal, and willing to labor, and a prejudice is
raised against him, whereby lie is prevented
fiom earning subsistence, vat ish a man to
do ! A young man becoming of age with
out friends, without property, and without a
knowledge of any useful employment, is
thrown upon the world to get a living—un
der suelt circumstances, vat ish a man to do?
If a man is persuaded to embark in any haz
ardous enterprize, with the promise of sup-j
port, and is deserted at the critical moment,
vat ish a man to do ? If a man is at the mercy |
ol‘ others, and they have no mercy on him, j
val ish a man to do ? If a bachellor tries his '
prettiest to get a wife, and the dear sweet!
creatures will not smile upon him, vat ish a
man to do ? If he gets a wife and is blest i
with a house full of dear little innocents,
and the cry of hunger, and wo have not the
means to appease their wants, vat ish a man to 1
do ?
A man may he placed in a thousand other!
critical situations, which tnay lead him to ex- j
claim, “Yel, vat ish a man to do ?”
It has been remarked that nothing can he more 1
touchingly beautiful than the answer of a little 1
deaf and dumb boy in the London Asylum, to the i
question, ’Why God had blessed others with
the faculties of speech and hearing, and deprived
him of them? lie burst into tears and wrote,
‘ Even so, father, for so it seemed good in thy
sight.’
There are some people who accumulate for
themselves possessions, and thereby attain a sta
tion in 3ociety Which they are not exactly capa
ble of sustaining, since their education is incom
plete, and their ostentation abundant. Much
folks, of course fall into a great many deplorable |
blunders; they commit depredations upon the,
King’s English, as if they acted “ by authority;” ■
As aniustmcc, however, of the mistakes into
which some of these pecuniary magnates fall,
when llteir early instruction has been neglected,
w e may relate the following passage, the facts of
which occurred in a neighboring city. A wealthy )
owner of real estate was about erecting a splen
did house upon a large lot, ami was disclosing the !
plan of it to his neighbor. “ 1 have employed,”
said he, “ a man which has eructated many build- j
mg; and my design is lor to have him cruet an
edifice with a beautiful Pcrtr.rico in front, on the |
street, and a I'izarro behind, with a b-tli-housej
contagious.
From the Philad' Painsglcanian, Mug -21). i
DEATH OF JOHN RANI*)LPH,
OF ROANOKE.
John Randolph of Roanoke is no more.
He died yesterday about twelve o’clock, at \
tiic Citv Hotel. The excitement in Chesnnt
street, when the melancholy fact became
known, can he imagined—r.ot desert lied.
Thus has depaited at the advanced age of
sixty-one years, one of the most extraordina
ry men that perhaps ever appeared in the
world. Whatever feelings, whatever cnimi
ties. whatever hostilities, and whatever pre
judices may have existed towards him
when living, they are all h;tried in the
same grave in wihch his ashes will be con
signed to their long repose. The genera
tion that survives and all that follow will
only remember his excellencies, for he
had many—his virtues and they were not
few—his unrivalled genius—llls une
qualled eloquence—his wit, that never
beamed but in the most brilliant light—
and his learning, that irradiated his whole
converse, society, and intercourse. He
was a statesman—a philosopher—a philan
thropist—not of tjieday—not for party—hut
for mankind—for after ages. It is a remark
able coincidence that his soul should take its
last flight in the same city in which he made
his political debut in the councils of kis coun
try.
Mr. Randolph became a member of the
House of Representatives about the time .Mr.
Jefferson came into power. He was a young
man, but itis appearance was even mote ju
venile than itis years. It is related of him
that on being questioned hv the speaker a
bout his age, he replied in his peculiar tone
“ask mv constituents.”
He had been, while a young man a warm
politician at the Virginian Court Houses and
hustings and we remember to have heard him
once give na account of iiis visit to Pough
keepsie,to hear the debates in the Convention
of New York, called together to deliberate
on accepting tho constitution cf 1767.
Mr. Randolph took tlie republican side
the question on It s appearance in
Congress. He at once attained a high rank
as a debater, and was appointed Chairman to
the most important committee of the House—
i the committee of ways and means. lie con
tinued in this position for several years, gave
evidence of talent and originality, hut occa.
sionaliy showed an eccentricity that gradually
cooled the admiration and friendship of Mr.
Jefferson.
Mr. Randolph was, wc believe, one of tho
managers who conducted the proceedings in
re'ation to Burr—hut we forget at this mo
ment the exact complexion of itis participa-
I tion.
It was during the second presidency of
! Mr. Jefferson, that Mr. Randolph withdrew
I his support entirely from that patriot’s adtniii
| istration. Os this event lie was in the habit
; of saying, “when Mr. Jefferson made war on
i tny tobacco, I made war on him. He op
! posed the non-intercoursc and embargo laws:
! and took the .same exceptions to those urea
| sures, which New England did.
It has been, however said, that the cause
! of Itis opposition to Mr. Jeiierson’s administra
tion, was the refusal of a mission to France.
Mr. Randolph told Mr. Jefferson one day,
“My health, sir, requires a voyage to Europe
—can’t you givo a passport to Franco l” Mr.
Jefferson did not, or would not, understand
the hint tiius delicately conveyed. No mis
sion was forthcoming—Mr. Randolph’s health
din not require a sea voyage—and he took
the opposition ground distinctly and openly.
During the whole of Mr. Madison’s ailinin-
I istration, and part of Mr. Monroe’s, Mr. Ran
dofph continued in opposition to the admin
istration.—His speeches are partly on record,
hut their spirit and beauty no pen can re
cord. He was warmly opposed to the lute
war, and made many eloquent hursts against
that popular measure.
On the chartering of the present United
States Bank, he made a speech of great origi
j uulity in hostility to all hanks. His favorite
| expression was that the Constitution was a
'“hard money constitution”—but Congress
I was making it “a paper money constitution.”
Ilis last appearance in Congress was during
the sessions of 1828, till. The first session,
! previous to the election of General Jackson,
he used to speak every other day. Wc heard
him on almost every occasion : and although
lie was always erratic, he was always fascina
ting—sometimes eloquent—never without
point—and occasionally beautiful, and severe
to an extreme degree.
Mr. Randolph’s beau ideal of country was
“old Virginia”—“good tdd Virginia”—his
patriotism was the love of the hills, the
streams, the rivers, the vales, and the blue
mountains of'bis loved Virginia, lie has done
more to make the“ Old Doininiori”the idol,the
pride, the whole world to Virginians, than all
their public men put together. Virginia
’ was to him a sentiment—a feeling—a pas
sion—a mistress—a lover—all that he cared
for, anil all that he valued in lit . Horses,
society, foreign arid travel adventu: j occasion
ally called forth his attention and his resour
ces—hut all these occupations ware merely!
interludes to the great drama of \ irginian ns- ■
cendcncy, which perpetually haunted itis
imagination,and sometimes reached liis heart. ■
There was no man that could wield the popu
lar enthusiasm of the “old dom'iiuon” with
the wizard power that John Randolph could.
He was indeed capricious as a lot r, and so
was his mistress—hut on great c urgencies j
they were always found locked in < cliother’si
arms. His influence over his in mediate
constituents was unbounded. ‘ ’o you in
tend to come to Congress agaii, ’asked a
gentleman of his immediate | :deccsser, j
Judge Bon!'in. “I can’t tidf—;• depends
w hether Mr. Randolph tvants to r ior not.”
But we must close this brief si. tell of the
character of John Randolph,a man hat “lake j
him for all in a!)” w c shall not lot . upon his I
like again in the present century. He he-1
longs not to tlie uvelul class of loading spirits. I
His region was inind—•imagination—orna- !
ineiit eloquence. His intercourse in pri-i
t alc society was a.-, fascinating as his public
: peaking. He was, lioweiet,taciturn anil !u-'
quaeiousby ills a;..1 starts. A full and acctt- j
rate history of his life and character would
make one of the most fascinating hooks that
evi r nnpeared on litis sit!-- of the Atlantic.
We understand that his remains will be
sent hack to his loved Virginia, there to re
pose among the Ashes of his forefathers.
The Hon. John S. Barbour, of Virginia, at
tended him in his dying moments, and took
measures to have those melancholy rites per
formed which the sail event called forth. The
Hon. L. \V. Tazewell is wc believe, also
here, or was a day or two ago. A couple
of hour.; before his death, lie talked ami said
he felt as well as usual—his hcalfli iind in fact
recovered. He wrote to \ irgit.i.i for the petl
jrrrce of a horse. It was hut tlie lust flickcr
ii,<r flame blazing up for a moment only to he
succecled by a long and lasting night in this
world, “t ai.i going” said he to a gifrilii man
of this city the oilier day, “I am going totEu
glami—’tis tiie last throw of the die.” lie
was right in one r< sped—it was indeed the
last throw cf the die—hut it was a throw into
cternitr—not to England.- Me have ai! to
travel tile same journey, and make tho sai-e
throw. With John Randolph dies the w izard
power that w ielded the political imagination
of Virginia.
<rJsf!®ts
• AtSK IC U LTI’EAL.
From the Virginia Farmer.
INDIAN CORN.
The point in the culture of Indian corn, is
in my opinion, the proper adjustment of the
number of plants to the acre ; and next to
that, the early thinning of it. From mv ex
perience i would sav, on our common lands,
such ns bring 10 or 12 bushels of wheat,
from ;iSOO to 5000 stalks to the acre, is the
proper quantity, and it matters hut little
whether it he planted in drills or in squares,
with two stalks in a place : in tho former
mode the plants are crowded less—and tn the
latter mode the laud being ploughed Loth
ways, acts with more effect, and the evil of
two stalks m a place is obviated in a great de
gree. The quantity spoken of in such land
as is described will almost certainly, under
proper culture, and if thinned as soon as it
is strong enough without breaking, produce
as much corn as the land is capable ot. But
tiie thinning must not he postponed—it intis!
he done as soon as it can lie done. Corn never
recovers from the injury sustained by remain
ing too long in a crowded slate in tile lull.
in the cultivation of this crop from what 1
have done mystll, and seen others, lain per
fectly satisfied that the common coulter is
superior to any other plough. 1 do not re
member that I ever knew a corn-buyer, no
matter how poor his land was, who ploughed
his land well and often w ith coulters. But as
it is less efi’zicnt in killing grass and weeds
than any other instrument, the planter must
work in connexion w ith it some other plough.
The land must he worked deep—kept loose
and fine ; this the coulter will do—you may
kill the grass and weeds with any plough you
please. From my experience and observa
tion both, the best plough in connexion with
the coulter is a hatshare, o! any kind, drawn
bv either one or two horses, according to the
depth ol the soil—il deep, then the two Hor
ses if shallow, the single horse hatshare.
But the very best mode oi execution, J be
lieve, is this : having been kept down with a
single horse harrow until the corn is knee
high, commence with the harshare, throw the
earth off from the corn on each side ol the
row, and follow on directly behind the same
furrow with a long strong chisel pointed coul
ter, drawn by the best horse on tho estate,
and w ith the coulter so inclined as for tho
point to cut under the corn, and so near it as
to jar every stalk in the row—then with
the harshare throw the earth hack to the
corn, and finish out the row w ith it, either
then or afterwards, as may he most conve
nient. After this operation no otlu r plough
ing will he wanting—nothing will he ne
cessary unless it he to harrow it once or twice
with tho single horse harrow. In this way
the ground is made perfectly loose with the
coulter, and the bed formed is so large- that it
will never become hard during tlie growing
season.
Where the land is rich, 6000, or indeed
more, plants to the acre w ill not he too much,
and where it is very p00r,2000 plants will not
he too little—and 1 think corn docs best when
planted in a pretty good depth in the ground,
sav not less than three inches. Corn should
he manured, (when manured at all,) in thq
lull—the manure thrown upon the corn, not
the corn upon the manure; manuring broad
cast is 100 extravagant away of using it ;u
quart in tlie hill is worth a gallon broad-cast.
i have said nothing about preparing the
land, hut have taken it for granted, that the
fields are broken up as I believe is common in
the autumn or winter w ith double ploughs, if
this has not been done, 1 w ould recommend
the coulter as the best instrument for spring
preparation. And no matter when or how
the grottnd is broken up the rows for planting
should he listed with the coulter.
I have given above, the Host mode as I
think of cultivating corn—hut any will do,
and do well, where tho common coulter is
mainly rc id on.
Respectfully, yours, AoKicri/rcROK.;
William .VcllUTson Jones,
attorney at law,
11.711.1, still continue to practice Law. Any |
v¥ business confided to his management will j
be promptly and failhfullyattended to.
Milledgeville, March 20, 1833.
71. i>. lit SON
f ATE of Milledgeville, and liis mother, have ;
» A taken the establishment in Macon, formerly j
kept by Charles Williamson, Esq. known as the
WASHINGTON HALL.
The house lias undergone thorough repair, and j
with other improvements, a Dining Room, eigh
ty feet in length, lias been added to thy south
wing of the building. The bedchambers have I
been re-painted,and the furniture is entire! v new .!
particularly beds. His servants, the same as
were employed in his house at Milledgeville. 1
From the. central situation of liis establish- j
mi nt and litslougexperience in the business, lie
confidently looks to the public for a liberal share j
of patlronage. L
Macon, Oct. Jtf, 1832. 30 —
Luaupkiu Cuiiuty Tow...
for Sale. 1
\Y» ,L SOLD, on t |„,g rsn .
’ * day m July next on Lot AW
! * Ist - Ist section, all the town lou
<br I d * county site, in sai(J ChU . J
: sale to continue from day to dav till j
lots are sold. Termsmade know "
day ol sale.
OXFORD.j 1
JOHN C. JONES j
JOHN D. FIELDS
May 29
The State Right’s Advocated
- I nlun. Southern Re-.order, Maco'ni
'-!‘T, Georgia Constitminalisi °r"
i Ghronicle, Sou there u ln»iji'. _j j,
i ton News. Columbus Ktumj,-,.,
cm., the Knoxville itepublicj; £
vil'e Banner lenn Charleston <
MinersJo.irnel, t harfotte, and Kaip ;
... 1 . and Huntsville Ad rotate >
confer a favor by inserting theaW
' elf sale.
Simeon ML Taylor,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
If AS located in Cass county.,nj,
B i tend to business in the various I
esof lus profession, in all the conn
the Cherokee Circuit. Letters Jin
I him, sent to Tw o Run Post Office's.
| will receive prompt attention. '
r N. B. The Milledgeville and!!,
purs, will give the above notice *
for three months, and forward their j
i to me for payment.
June 5
Kpercltc*
I usi trr
VIvVYIO;^
op the
S’F ITE or SOFTHC AROI
BBLD ST COLtyißli
nr
7JAStC’H, 1&33.
To which is prefixed the Jounn
s^3*SawtßM
i 'B J FI FT 1 *
.7ti-rf re ceived. :m<j for sal
J 2. E>. S. KLADF.
At the Times & State Right’s Adn
Oliiee, Milledgeville,
TIS 13 PRIZES
DRAWN IX THE
•jiiajioaay
OF THE
ist mill 2(1 (in.-ility, and of the til h
improvements;
WITH THg
DR AV. Hit'S . AML AM)RESIDE
t oitipnedisom the Numerical li.
A It i*r a nirt l'ul examination of thoul
( oiuiuuhloueri,
S’ritT Three
“ Tlie interest which is manifested;hi
out the State, to he possessed of u
tion relating to the interesting,
known us the Cherokee country' a
importance ot all information that 1
i obtained in regard to its geographies
tion—the quality of its Tand-iU i»
ties, w ater courses, roads, Ac. la. 01
the publishers hereof, at the h.im
many persons, by iudustriviisapps
and at considerable expense, round
the publication of tl-.is liulc v.dunie.
are fi.itti red w ith the hope, that vs 1
nes. win he appreciated by ail vu„
tcresti and in tin.- acquirement of this
ui.t purlieu of our .Stole. Tlie pul*
ted assured that they- doliot overu
the inturmation il imparts, and lie
convenience and hiciiity, by which
be ocqnin 1! ; and, altlin’ there tin
nreui... ie> il. its desc;ipii vect,
tiie ju - siliiuiy tiiat culi, lUj c mo;
were not nil.. ys made by the liisa
vey-rs; yet. as uis the most ecu
can be ulilalhej, without a person!
lodge of every lot, il must lie c nsiila
best information the nature of the«
mils of. Os one fact, the reader is;
teed, that tiiis iiook wears acorn
ullici.fi slanij —as it was copied 1
curacy from the Numerical Hooks. 1
file in the Executive Department
St;.to, after those Books were ’.tion
, examined by the late Land Lottery
luissiuners. The accuracy arid fidel
the quality of each lot, was ascertain
( special reference to the field notes
1 hnti iet Surveyor.-, and theirdetachtl
To these desiderata, may be stated. l
No. of each lot, in its districtandi
liy whom drawn, ill whose captain
ami in wlmte.’inity,arc equally, aim
ly authentic. It must be a desirabii
to both tlm drawer, and die purcln
have n Dock of the kind wc herewi
mil 10 the public; as it embodies ini
pressed and in a portable form, alltl
inornndn inlGruialioii which both pm
and seller could have, without «
ki.i.w ledge or from information dear:;
chased, if procured otherwise.
The liook will contain a Numerical
all the lots drawn in the different sera
ike Land Lottery, excepting-such;
returned third quality; and it any
third quality has any improvement
such lot also will be embraced. 1
lot, will he affixed a letter tt, 4, or f,
designates th« quality; « |jr l ' ie .
for the second, and c for the third", an
also attached the Nos. of acres impn
the drawer's name, the district m
he gave in as fortunate drawer, t
comity ill w hich lie resides,and the
liis lot. and tlm district and section a
it is located. Whenever a district
re] r. milled particularly, the n’"‘ l!
learn that all the lots in said distr*
m the bill and other districts,) p re
third quality—To each district ns 01
is . tati and, with some brief,but appn cJ
marks. ,
Tho publishers forbear any furtnej
(liuin -f this, their “littleetlort - P a
that iis merit usefulness sM
more audibly its own praise- - J
is, (and it is hoped, it "ill be F
is respectiully dedicate*w
pl.- l tG-orotn, by [[i; pL , BIISIIE ,
Orders, (postage paid,) enclosing'
Dollars, w ill bo promptly attef ov
r,S JVI. 1). J. SLADE, Milled
NOTICE
nn: arc requested toannoKn^.
WILLIAM W- CARNES
edgcville, as a candidate lor G F
ml. at the next election. ■
M ay S-J