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VOL. I—*©. 25. POKTBI. FOR THE TIMES A SPENT BALL. fjOM THE MSS. OF A SEXAGENARIAN. g jjfrfjts their latest ray have flung, )n eyes that flashed it back intenser ; dthe rapt listener’s ear has hung, )beach young lip’s farewell cadenza. ; silent walls re-echo not arro.su and down the middle ,” [some fair sleepers have forgot, 111,but the music of the fiddle. dist‘Good night’ is gaily told lishtsl in the dancer’s careless prattle, i latest carriage wheel has roiled Jpon iny ear its parting rattle; lhlift last of all the throng If frolic youth and gay Civilians, ..song, Pars /us in these gay cotilions. y come on memory’s backward glance, (right as my boyhood’s visioned slumbers, .forms that equal youth’s romance, ind realize the Poet’s numbers, ■ lofty brow —the wind-harp’s tones, tiugiets, all radiant and mazy, all that gentle woman owns, 'o drive our sterner bosoms crazy. rcome, I have no power to shroud yglanee from visions floating o’er uie, nsi which to-nightmy soul hath bowed, iidouble lustre flash before me. piceful ones I’ve stood beside, :e for the music, signal given, looks that vailed my own of pride, ic Houriesof an Earthly Heaven. ritb the dance I—my soul is up, y fainting limbs exert new vigor, sure presents Iter sparkling cup, in'll rtj iht w hole ‘ h i-to!oralJigurc .’ Blast half stanza it has burst bubble that I fain bad cherished, Bd-eam by wayward fancy nursed, Bhhuut a vestige left has perished. Bid’m the festal Hall—’tis done— B dream—the daitet—alike are over— the rose she rhymed upon, the floor 1 may discover. it lady, ’tis to thee, faded floweret owes its value its leaf has been to me,— not >oun forget it. Shall you? 1 would not he graving spirit’s binding tether Hbtt'T. thou hast laid on 'me, weighs upon mv limbs, a leather; fain would he the one ■ lay un; rompted thoughts, l!ie nearest, Bp unnamed, yet dwelt upon by thy fancy, dearest. images, we're told sepulchral vaults of old, lampsenlightenod. limned by memory coincs evening rainbow, ’mid the sorrow, strung pulses that benumbs clearer skies, to-morrow. X ’hkcellaneols. ■ ' I’m the European Magir.inr ■oGAn-s «|’ i. Vtll'lDDfil. B TIIE SPANIARD. the nolilc visiters a.&ciiihicd at tin' Flench I’yri n. i s.iioiic were tlian tiie Comic Manuel and his beautiful wife .luana. ol their ages, characters, was a subject of surprize to ct- W* Cavalier, and of pity to every matron. His shrivelled forehead, ■ c !'"V<nd cadaverous com;>! \uou,in of spleen and suspicion lothe olive tint given by his na- a fearful contrast to the countenance of his consort. anil reluctant stay at these ecl- springs, the Conde sudden- his intended return to Madrid : pomp attached to his high official Ins pride, and pi evented the which disi used his imagina addressed his eouimaiuls to -a page entered with a small he received without casting ‘^Bp ;| ii it ar»| put it into his vest. Hut i! "itli very uneasy sensations, ' 't contained a paired' valuahle .a j v.i lerat Caregt liad been ~r(l cred (o prepare for her. So le^B|l ' n ' ,, i by her husband’.-, jealous nnr lll^B lr ''id hron tempted to commit the ! <> inexperienced wives—-the l> l H S r' il! Ousting disobedience to Either by liccdlesiu ss or design. ; which had never been 111 1< mh-d lord's eve, had fallen into ins * detection aggravated l»v at- would he the in vita peculiar to women, prompted 1 device w Inch areidnit seemrd H’ hissing hv the roo a where her 1 B his siesta, or evening saw (lie door half-opened and Packet lying on a writing-table! 1 ’ hi rouleaus and scattered dol hunt light admitted by the closed me chamber, discovered no one c Itcard the deep anti slow breath r behind tlie drapery which jB'J retired couch. Juana instantly °"n well-known bracelets, 'Wlcd them ina paper shaped like rs packet, of which the wax did ,0 have been broken. It would |,,| lt, she believed, to pi rsuade her they had been sent for some ■.^ C( ' r t f '|iair«, and the jew eler's dis- ' ,r sec,| ccd. Secretly blessing ■ - unusual want of c.uriositv and Ju.ma -loir w itli a s' Ipli’c atworca sQSfHHoa juamAm PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY JIARJIADIKE 3. SLADE, AT THKEE DOLLARS PER ANNL9I. step into the dusky chamber, and without , (musing to wonder at the numerous rouleaus, j though the opportunity excited a smile, ex changed her packet for that which lay ex | posed upon the table and fled back. But what surprise, perplexity, and dismay, pos sessed her, when she broke the wax and be held, not the bracelets she had ordered, but a magnificent pair, of the rarest Peruvian gold enriched with a medallion representing * young man in a splendid English uniform! Its companion contained a cypher and coro net of diamonds. Could this be the jeweler’s mistake, the stratagem of some gallant stran [ger. or part of a mystery managed by her hus band ? Whatever was the truth, her own im- j prudence and misfortune were irretrievable, as, on her cautious return to the chamber-' door, she found it closed and bolted. In si lent and profound agony, sharpened by the necessity of disguise, Juana awaited tiie re turn of her husband, whose countenance only ! expressed its usual sufJeii coldness, while he completed her confusion by enquiring for I what purpose she had privately ordered the, bracelets which a jeweler had delivered to his page. Unprepared, disordered, and con scious of error, Juana made a timid and hes itating reply, which, though strictly true, had all the aspect ol falsehood. She alleged, that compassion for a distressed and deser ving artisan, hadinduccd iier lo order a pair of bracelets, which she had not thought suf- 1 (iciently important to mention. Don Manuel j heard her with a mysterious smile, and care- j lessly answered, that he had determined to leave Bareges because he had been re quired to cede the chamber usually allotted to his siesta, for tho accommodation of one of the numerous strangers lately arrived at the eenta where they lodged. This last in- j teliigencc explained one part of tho fatal mis- j take committed by Juana, atid deepened the ; possible calamity. She had been seen, per haps, by the new guest feloniously conveying j away his jewels, ami leaving in exchange a deposit which he might receive and expose] as a token of preference ! The loveliest rose- j colour of modest shame spread over her cheeks at this thought, & her husband throw ing the bracelets she had clandestinely pur chased, into her lap, smiled on her and depar ted in silence. This silence and this forgiv ing smile touched her innocent and gener ous heart with more remorse than his utmost bitterness could have excited. Softened by I sell-reproach into respectful timjfty, shco-! beyed his commands to prepare for an imtne- j diatc removal with unusual yet unaffected j meeknsfie. I)orin«y Itieli long journey to I Madrid,she received no other notice than a ; cold monosyllable or an indirect glance, but j the spirit of youth and innocence sustained] her hopes and her efforts to conciliate. Ma-j ny months passed without any recurrence to j the unfortunate mistake at Bareges, when 1 the English Ambassadress gave a fete, which ] all tiie nobility of Madrid were invited to par take. Juana eagerly embraced the opporlu. nity to seek a friendship with this distin guished lady, half determining to deposit the stolen jewels in her hands,that they might i Ive restored to their owner by her aid. Many officers of high rank, attendants on the “Great Lord,” w ere mingled with the assembly, whose chief attention was fixed on the Conde del Tonnes’ beautiful wife. With that quick and constant suspicion] which creates the danger it fears, Juana imagined some peculiar meaning in the occasional glance ofa young Englishman, whose military dress resembled the por trait in the bracelet. A thousand blushes pursued each other over her face, aud; her downcast, yet attentive eye seemed to give assent to the enquiry expressed by Itis. The gracious gaiety of the Am bassadress encouraged her young guest to ask the name of this - Englishman. “’Tis my brother,” replied her excellency smiling, “and he dares not ask an intro duct'ou to any Spanish belle because he has forfeited my favour by his negligence.” Juana hazarded another question Which her entertainer’s sprightly tone invited, and the ambassadress uncovering her arm answered,“lie promised to bring me bracelets of your purest Peruvian gold for this night, and you sec me without ti ne!—Listen to his excuse and praise its ingenuity. lie tells me that his us cal in firmity of walking in his sleep seized him at Bareges, where he dreamed that a mu ] sic hoo'v lay before him, in which a Span ; ish ballad so strongly touched his fancy, that to distinguish the page, he left a lol ded paper in it: when he awoke, the pack j ct \\ hich contained the bracelets intended ] for me, was gone. He remembers the ; room, the ballad, and the music-book, in i which he pretends that he deposited it, ! most accurately ; and if I may believe bint, the ballad was ’ —“One of L<- j pez de Vega’s” hastily interrupted Juana, : and the music book was mine. We left Bareges suddenly before the owner of the i bracelets could be guessed ; but I have brought them to night, hoping that your i kindness might assist me in restoring i them.” The Ambassadress, with a smile 1 full of benignity and archness, received the bracelets from the young countess, ' whose blushes announced how much she 1 doubted whether she owed most to the : .-i.Jicate ire entiou of the brother or the si - e never despair or —Truth we shall sail under her auspices.”—Horace. GEORCHA TIMES MILLEDGEVILBE, GEORGIA, JULY 3, 1833. j ter. But during the remainder of the e , veiling, her release from a dangerous di lemma gave an elastic ease to her move ments, and anew lustre to her countenance of which more than one eye was fatally observant. The gala extended far beyond midnight, and the brother of the fair giver was a mong the latest lingerers. Morning shone through the tricllis of his balcony : when lie reached his bed-chambcr, where ■ he saw, with great surprise, a large Wood ;eu chest, which had been brought, as his servant informed him, only a few minutes i j before his return, by three strangers, who i : had received his orders, they said to lodge it there with great precaution. Our En-! jglishman prudently dismissed his valet be- j j fore he unfastened the lid of this mysteri- 1 ] ous coffer and raised the large folds of white linen within. Beneath them lay the lifeless body of Juana, in the rich at tire she had worn at his sister’s banquet, J with a chain of Peruvian gold twisted ] tightly around her neck, and tied in a fatal I knot. Her right hand wore a white glove;' the left was bare and disfigured by deep wounds.—At this frightful spectacle a cry of horrer escaped Clanharold ; but presently collecting his disordered senses, j he'began to consider what was most ex -1 pedient at a crisis so perilous. He saw 1 the snare prepared for him, and had ter rible proof’s of the power,the malice, and the speed of the contriver. The vindic-j live jealousy which had sacrificed so much 1 loveliness might also thirst for his life, though sheltered by his national impor tance and family distinction. In a few : hours Clanharold had devised and execu- ] ted the plan which appeared best fitted j to suit his purpose, and several days passed without producing any rumour re-; lative to Juana, except that she had left j Madrid with her husband. When the | Conde’s departure was well ascertained, i the young Englishman, whose pride had ! fordidden any step resembling a retreat,! began to feel the policy of quitting Spain, j He was alone in his chamber arranging j some important papers when his valet en- j tered leading three armed agents of the po- j lice,who instantly conveyed him in a close | carriage to a secret prison. The Bishop; of C rpnpivo/I *i—... --Vuuj are accused, said the prelate with a stern ] air, “of seduction and assassination; and j though our principles of jurisprudence j prohibit any disclosure of the accusers' name and communications. I love En- ] gland and its laws too much to withhold ] my protection from an Englishman. There fore I tell you, your valet is your accuser. J He saw you in the act of opening a ccr- J tain coflcr, and he directed us where to! find it buried, in the orangery under your j balcony. You grow pale, and he has ] spoken the truth!”—“ln England,” replied j Clanharold after a short pause, “I should I have appealed to its laws to protect me from imprisonment on an uncomfirmed pretence, and to my reputation for an an swer to such a charge. Itis no boast to say, that Englishmen arc notfamiliar with j that ferocious passion which urges men; to murder what they cannot possess orj have possess ed too long. When I tell you' this, I only tell you that we arc not rnon- i sters.’’ Innocence itself would have I shrunk from the Spaniard’s eye as hean-j swered. “You are aware, then, that he J accuses you of assassinating a woman l ” —j Clanharold felt the rashness of his speech , and tiie inference it admitted, but baffled j his inquisitor by retorting “can he prove j ; it?”—Stung by the contempt in Clanhar old's smile, the bishop exclaimed, “The proof of innocence rests with you. A fe male strangled and cruelly wounded was i conveyed to your dwelling at midnight by J men hired as accomplices, but now wit nesses of the crime. I adjure you as a ] minister of justice, and as the friend of! your nation's honour, which your public examination would endanger, to confess; the truth. Where was the corpse deposi ted!”—“l know of none!” replied Cianhar-, j old firmly; “nor have I admitted any knowledge of the men you name. I have held no secret and dishonourable inter course in Spain either with the living or the dead. This is my answer, and the last I shall repeat.” The prelate smiled indignantly and departed. But notwith standing his first emotions of anger at the prisoner’s haughty defiance, his habitual caution, joined to some generous feelings, enforced, perhaps by the respect due to Clanharold’s nation, rank, and family, sus pended his proceedings even beyond the usual degree of Spanish tardiness. Wea . ried with the misery of an imprisonment which seemed purposely protracted. Clan harold’s pride sunk at length under the anxious entreaties of his sister, and he consented to avail himself of her aid. A i bout this period, her husband’s official station rendered another public banquet necessary, and she studiously included the Bishop of C among her guests. In j the ciief saloon, where the most numerous and irilliant part of the assembly were engaged in the Bolero, a stranger sudden ly encred, whose extraordinary deport menl and attire fixed every eye upon 1 him. A mantle of grey silk, strangely j 1 pained, was wrapped around him ; his feet were bare, and his head covered with ! a lage hat of plaited straw, interwoven , vviu flowers. This fantastic figure moed slowly round the room, looking widly yet familiarly on the assembly,and waving the remnant of a white glove suined with blood. The females among the crowd endeavoured to hide themselves from the intrusion of a maniac, but a few cavaliers ventured to surround and ques tion him. Still waving the glove, he only answered, “A/y Master's secret .”—No one of the ambassador’s household had seen this person enter, or could guess from whence he came ; but the ambassadress leading the Bishop of C towards him, directed his attention to the frag ment of a gold chain concealed in the stranger's breast. Dismissing every spec tator, and closing the doors of the saloon, he bishop laid his hand upon the maniac’s shoulder, and attempted to take the golden chain from his'vest. With the same vague and fixed smile, he repeated “My master’s secret,” and covered it closer in the folds of his silk mantle. “Do you know this hall ?” said the inquisitor—“Yes”—“And the business of this night?"—“lt is my master’s secret.”—“But what is your bu siness here?” “Mine is with you?” returned the stranger raising his large eyes with a dark fire in them. —“You are a priest,they say and I want absolution for ‘My master's secret!’ he clenched his hands on his breast with a groan which expressed agony even to suffocation, and fell insensible on the ground. The Judge had a heart worthy his high station among Christian priests, and an understanding superior to the errors of Spanish jurisprudence. He summoned his secretary and two confidential assistnts, who conveyed the unhappy stranger to a chamber near tbe holy tribunal, and care fully recalled his senses. When his eyes opened, they fixed themselvcson the mys terious chest, which had boo.- I- 1 --- 1 1 . loro bun tiv ifje prelate s order. Has it struck twelve, and is all done so soon!” Well, carry it gently—my master is not yet at home”—Carry the torch then,” said j the bishop’s secretary.—“ Here are three i of us to take the chest.—“O the dead j weigh heavy !—but wc wall have no torch; I I know my way blindfolded.” The at- j tendants understanding the motion of their i master’s eye, raised the chest upon their j shoulders, and accompanied their guide j through the dark and intricate streets of l Madrid, till they reached the house once occupied by Clanharold. Still preceded by the unknown, and followed by the bish op muffled up, they entered the bedcham ber where it had been first deposited. 1 “Let ns look at her again before we leave her,” said the secretary affecting to apply his eye to acl ink in tlu' coffer. “It is my master's secret !” exekumed the maniac, pushing him back with the strength of in- 1 sanity—“but this gold chain will pay for i absolution—take it, father.” —“Follow me, j my son,”said the bishop, “and the peace 1 of penitence be with thee!” At the middle hour of the next night; Clanharold’s inusings were disturbed by j the entrance of the prelate wih a dark and j severe countenance. He accosted him in | few words, and announced the certainty of his secret, but final trial on the follow ing day. This information only raised the courage and the hopes of the young prisoner, who apprehended nothing so much as the obscure and slow progress of the holy tribunal. No pomp or circum stance was spared to render the judicial j court imposing to the Englishman’s feel-: ings when he entered it ; but those feel mgs may be well conjectured when hej saw th* chest which had been employed as Juana's coffin standing in the centre, and her husband at the bar. “Henry V iscount Clanharold,” said the inferior judge rising solemnly from his seat under a dark can opied recess, “we cite you here to bear witness of the trjth. Look on this man and answer ur,—ire yc strangers to each other?” We have never met before,” re plied Clanharold, evading a distinct reply to a question which he feared might crirfti | nate a man unjustly suspected. “By the sanotity of that oath which we have itn ! posed on your veracity, we require you to communicate nil you know of this chest." answered, still seeking safety in evas'on. The Conde fixed his slow eye on Clanhar old as these words were registered, and drew his lip inwards with -a ghastly smile. Three men were summoned next, and so lemnly attested the conveyance of this chest, at midnight to the Euglish noble j man’s apartment, and professed their be ) lief, that it contained a treasure expected by him. His valet followed with a pre-| vise and accurate detail of the cfrcum-] stances attending the opening of the lid,! the groan which escaped his master, andj the short stupor of agony which appeared! to seize him, while excited by curiosity! and suspicion he had watched his move ments. Last carne the miserable stran ger. still clothed in his fantastic drapery, with the blood-stained glove in his hand, and the broken chain fastened round his neck. “Master! I have kept your secret!” he exclaimed and tainted. “Spare your efforts," said the Conde, coldly folding his arms over Isis breast—“this wretch can tell you nothing more than I avow. He knows his master’s secret— he knows that an infamous woman left her husband’s house on the eve of St. Blasius’s festival, and returned to it no more.”—“And you received her!” added the chief judge, ad dressing the English prisoner. “M v lord, replied Clanharold—“l have already dis claimed the guilt imputed to me :—my roof has never been an asylum for infa my in any shape, and 1 know no Spanish woman to whom it is due.”—“He preva ricates!” interrupted the Conde, forgetting his own danger in his zeal to criminate an enemy— I “he has spoken falsely ! —let him remember Bareges and the accommoda ting kindness of his sister!”—A momenta ry blush passed over Clanharold’s fore head, followed by a stern and deadly pale ness.—“ Under English laws,” he said, di recting his eyes towards the judges, “fren zy and desperation are not allowed to convict themselves ; nor are the most plausible assertions credited without proofs. All the witnesses err. If they can certify the fact of an assassination, let them make known the manner, and name the victim.”—“Beware!” said the bishop, “the chief witness has confessed all. Do you venture to look upon this chain?” Clanharold instantly recognized a frag ment of the woven gold so fatally em ployed round Juana’s neck “You can not deny that you have seen the instru ment of an unhappy lady’s death; this glove is tlte counterpart of one Worn by her corpse, and the place of its interment is all we have to ask. You stand hm-<» u uuijH it, mil 89 art*,«.'vlvtiCC him } unless a contumacious silence ren ders you an accomplice. Where is the body of Juana?” Clanharold remained silent till this ques tion had been thrice related. To its last solemn proposition he replied, “if the Con de is accused of murder, I have no evi dence to give, but I fully and firmly be lieve him innocent. I have seen no in strument of death, no place of secret inter ment, and to your last question I answer ; —my ignorance is absolute.” The sec ! retarv of the tribunal recorded this decla ration, while the only lamp which lighted the spacious hall of justice was gradually lowered over the coffin of Juana. Her husband shuddered and turned away his face, while the bishop, executing the most awful office of his temporal administration, advanced to pronounce his sentence. ,Manuel del Tormes, accused and Con victed hv the assistants of your guilt; and you, Henry Lord Clanharold, subjected to the penalty of deatn by an obstinate Con cealment of murder, approach and lay your hands upon this bier.”—They obeyed with contrasted, but strongly evident tecl ings. The Cor.dc’s livid lips shook as he attempted to speak; and raising his shrunk eye, he saw another w itness standing be fore him. She wore the white habit ofa nun, and extended her hands towards both the prisoners. “Judges! the Conde is in nocent, and the Englishman has spoken the truth. Juana was not wholly dead when the coffer was unclosed, and Clan harold’s care revived her; but she could not enjoy even life where her honour was suspected. Site escaped from her preser ver to the convent of St. Blasius, where she found refuge without his knowledge or aid. She returns to the world only for a moment,to acquaint a husband whose rashness was not without provocation, and a generous stranger whose sccresyl hazards his life to redeem her honour ” —Thus speaking, she raised her veil: and when the assembly had gazed for an in stant on tiie beauty of the unfortunate Ju ana, dropped it again for ever. But the Conde. fully convicted o r a bar ] barous intent, w as sentenced to a long im prisonment, which his self-devouring spir ]it rendered more than death. His servant, the chief agent in the attempted assassina tion, died in the receptacle for lunatics, where the ambassadress had discovered him ; and her brother quitted Spain in al : most incurable dejection, execrating that fierce jealousy which, by urging innocence itself into dark and crooked paths, dc ! prives it of its dignity and its security. v - To keep out of jail.—Get out and keep ■ out of debt. 1 THE FATHERS VERSIFIED. Mr. Moore in his Travels of an Irish gen tleman in search of a Religion, says, “by way of keeping the virgin in good humor, as well with the fathers as with myself, 1 occa sionally translated into verse some of the most floral passages which occur in these writers, and laid them in double homage, at once, of poetry and piety, at her feet. With these half-tender, half-saintly strains, the lady was, as may be supposed, inexpressibly delighted, To the task of copying them out the most de licate crow-quills were devoted: and it was the first time, I dare swear, in the annuls of gallantry, that the names of St. Basil, St. Gregory and St. Jerome were fated to shine forth in the pages of a morocco covered al bum.” Thus St. Chrysostom: “ Why come ye to the place of prayer With jewels in your braided hair I And wherefore is the house of God By glittering feet ptofanely trod ; As if, vain things, ye come to keep Some festival, and not to weep! Oh ! prostrate weep before that Lord Os earth and heaven, of life and death, Who blights the fairest with a word, And blasts the mightiest with a breath. Go ! ’tis not thus in bright array Such sinful souls would dare to pray. Vainly to anger’d heaven ye raise Luxurious hands where diamonds hlaxe; And she w ho comes in fcroider’d veil To weep her frailty, still is frail.” “The same homily furnished me with rath* or a curious passage, showing how just this Saint’s notions of female heautv are, and how independent ol the aid of ornament was its natural power in his eyes. “ Behold, thou say'st, • my gown is p la in, My sandals are of texture rude ; Is this like one whose heart is vain, Like one who dresses to be woo’d 1 Deceive r.ot thus, young maid thy heart; For far more oft in simple gown Doth beauty play the tempter's part, Than the brocades of rich renown : And homeliest gar!) hath oft been found When typed and moulded to the shape, To deal such shafts of mischiet round As wisest men can scarce escape.” Saint Gregory, of Nazianzum, who himself wrote poems, and was the or.ly one of the fa thers of the first four centuries wh6 did so, is thus rendered : “Let not those eyes, whose light forbids All love uitho'y, even learn to stray, Bu L.¥e^M i -"- y stay. Keeping their brightness to themselves all day. Let not those lips by man be Won, To breathe a thought that thy guileless breast ; But like May-buds, that fear thektin, Shut up in rosy silence ever rest, — Silence, that speaks the maiden's sweet thoughts best.” But St. Basil comes nearer Little’s poems: “There shines an all pervading grace, A charm diffused through every part Os perfect woman’s form and face, That steals like light, into man’s heart; Her look is to liis eyes a beam Os loveliness that never sets ; lier voice is to his ear a dream Os melody it ne’er forgets : Alike in motion or repose, Awake or flumbeßig, sure to win,' Her form, a vase transparent, shows The spirit’s light enshrined within. Nor charming only when she talks ; Her very silence speaks and shines; Love gilds lier pathway when she walks; And lights her couch when she reclines. Let her, in short, do whatshe will, Tis something for which man must woo her; So powerful is that magnetslill Which dravf3 all souls aud senses to her.” This Ancieiit is nfterwaids kept th counte nance by a paraphrase of a Modern Barlteus, a stauncli Calvinist: ••Now, perhaps, having taxed my poetical art, To indite yoit this 'ruriite letteT, You’ve enough of the sex,after all, in your heart; To like a few kisses much better. And in sooth, my dear Anne, if you’re pfetty as wise, I might offsr the gifts yon prefer, But that Barbara tells roe, with love in her eyes, 1 must keep all my kisses for her.” INDIAN SPRINGS. H A. ERWIN’S House at tiie ■ Am INDIAN SPRINGS has been opened several weeks for the accommodation of persons who may be desirous of visiting the watering place. The house is well fitted up and every thing in compile order. Erwin’s Hotel in Macon is still open for boar ders and travellers, and is under the superinten dancp of a lady who is as well qualified for the business as any female in Georgia. (gj-This House in Macon may be purchased upon accommodating terms, and possession givea by the first of October next. L. A. ERWIN. June 26 ° o °The Georgia Messenger, Georgia Journal, Augusta Chronicle, will publish the above tour times, and forward their account to L. A. E- Joseph 11. Greene, IN addition to his former Stock, is receiving front New-York, a l'resh supply of Mprinff and Fancy goods, Which he will sell ‘on accommodating terms. He invites his friends and the pub lic to an examination of them ; and solicits a continuance ot patronage.