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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