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TOL. 1. georgia, & State Rights’ Advocates PRINTED A*D PIBLIMIED BY MARMADIKE A. SLADE, AT THREE DOLLARS PER AXKJI. OEOKOIA TIMES AND 3t?& ; .?3 aaaimra i&W39A{?3d * nu blislied ooce a week, in the Town ot Mil ij .ville at THREE DOLLARS per annum, jr p 'id •»’ advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, nt the ' w d of the year. . Advertisements inserted at the usual rates: those sent without a specified number of inser _ will 1 e published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. Salesof Land, by Adinin litrators, B**cutora, or Guardians, are required, bT | a w, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the fore- B and three in the afternoon, at the court house in the county in which the property is situate. Notice of these sales must be given .. a public gazette sixty days previous to the of sale. Sales of negroes must bo at pub auction, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual hours ot sale, at the place of “|,lie sales in the county where the letters feta,notary, of Administration .or Guardian may have been granted, first giving sixty vs notice thereof, in one oi the public ga- Lfies of this State, and at the door of the urt-house, where such sales are to be hela.— Notice for the sale of Personal Property must hr <riven in like manner, forty days previous t > t dav 0 { s;l te. Notice to the Debtors and Cre ditors of an Estate must be published for forty L Notice that application will he made 10 the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land, ust be published four months. Notice for " l() se u Negroes, must be published for fcur months before any order absolute shall i>e \ unde thereon by the Court ' 1 POETRY. _______ from the iVerto England Magazine. STANZAS. BV REBECCA THE JEWESS. If I hsd Tubal’s chordcd shell. O’er which the first born music rolled, Inhuming tones, that loved to dwell Amongst those wires of trembling gold; If to my soul one note was given Os that high harp whose sweeter tone Ciughl the majestic strain from Heaven, And glowed with fire round Israel’s throne ; Up to the deep blue starry sky : Then might my soul aspire, and hold Communion fervent strong and high, tV ith hard and king, and prophet old : Then might my spirit dare to trace The path our ancient people trod. When the gray sires of Jacob’s race, Like faithful ervants. walked with God ! But lurael’s song, alas ! is hushed, That all her tales of triumph told, And muto is every voice that gushed la music to her harps of gold ; And could my lyre attumn its string To lofty themes they loved of yore, Alaa I my lips could only sing All that we were, but are no more ! Our hearts are still by Jordan's stream And there our footsteps fain would oe ; But oh ! 'tis like the captive's dream Os home his eyes may never see. A eloud is on our father’s graves, And darkly spreads o’er Zion’s hill, And there their sons must stand as slaves. Or rove like houseless wanderers still. Yet, where the rose of Sharon blooms, And cedars wave the stately head Even now, from out the place of tombs. Breaks a dead voice that stirs the dead. Through the wide world’s tumultuous roar Floats dear and aweet the solemn word, “Oh, virgin daughter, faint no more. Thy tears are seen, thy prayers are heard ; What though, with spirits crushed and broke. Thy tribes like desert exiles rove Though Judah feels the strange r’s yoke, Yet shall the day of promise come, Thy eons from iron bondage break, And God shall lead the wanderers home 1” EROM THE GEORGIA COLKiSa. WAH.IIAIeOXS V: Or the Last of tUe Peqnots. LSy Thomas K. Poor, Esq. The white man landed—need the rest be told V ****** “ He sank — " sinks the crimsoned sun beneath the wave !” Though low in the dust is laid the strong t mn of tlie Red Man yet his name shall i lot be unsung:—Though a stone may not I dl, perhaps, where repose his sad relics' -yet the eye of memory shall not forget j t!—Though the axe and ploughshare have j °ng since obliterated every trace oi itis j ristence, and disturbed the death-slumber J his departed race—yet the White Man hall have a silent veneration for the hills j vhcre repose their fathers, and wherej hoy once roamed in all the majestic pride! ’f their native worth. It was a mild and brilliant evening; the i “n was shedding ltis last rays upon the j >road unruffled bosom of the Connecticut, j a it flowed peacefully amid the wild soli-1 udt’s ot a dark and gloomy forest, almost minhubited, save by its proud and native °rds—that an Indian of gigantic stature, iccontpanied by a tall and interesting touth, perhaps of twenty-two, appeared j uddenly upon a bold and projecting bluff, *hieh rose some twenty-five or thirty feet l h^ v 'e the surface of the river, and from 'hich a beautiful and pleasant prospect ur several miles, could be obtained The fjdian seemed wrapt in contemplative Renee, with ltis eyes fixed, calm, but stead i> upon the fading light, as it slowly left s liquid mirror, followed bv more long ltl( l gloomy shadows of the surrounding west. Jlis brow was clouded—care and fcpression seemed deeply marked upon us rough but striking features, which were *rnaps, indicative of uneasiness of mind, jf~ °1 sad forebodings of tlie future— ”bile on the other hand, the youth np ttired intent upon surveying the rich * l *ry. which in every direction pfesen . itself to view, and seemed to pay blit Hue attention to the melancholly appeur «f his red companion. His left arm uppr.rted a long silver-mounted rifle. | which he was about to recline against a | tree, when the Indian took him by the arm land leading him silently to the brink of the blul), pointed to .hint a ray of the setting sun, last leaving the bold brow of a rock on the opposite shore, said— “ Dost thou mark yon crimsoned gleam of the setting sun, which falls so beautifully! upon the naked and unconscious rock ?”* ! “ I do :” was the youth’s reply. “See,” continued’the Indian, “it grows red as it disappears—more swiftly—’tis j nearly gone—there—no, a little yet re j mains— them, now ’tis gone !” He was silent, but continued gazing vacantly upon the opposite shore. At length lie resumed | in a solemn and dignified air, addressing himself to the youth I “ Pale face," he said “it is thus that the ! race of the Red Man disappears. The l white men are Itis destroyers. Like the 'black shades of night, they come slowly ; on, end by degrees eclipse ltis sun, which sinks in blood to endless night, while lie is swept from the lace of the earth, and is thought of no more!” Again he was silent: and perhaps, at the instanl,a sorrowing tear trickled down ltis rough, war-worn features, but it was j dashed aside, as he took the hand of the j white man and continued— “ Rut pale youth, the Red Man has sav-! e.l thy life: go home to thy people, and tell! them, that he wishes them no harm—that' the Great Spirit commands aim to love j ltis white brethren, but that they must not! trample upon ltis hunting grounds, or the | Red Man in his wrath, may shed the blood ! ot the pale face: Go, for the word of the I Red ,\lun has passed.” “ Rut to whom,” inquired the youth, as j the Indian turned to depart, “am I indebt ed for my rescue ? Thy noble bearing, ; and that of the Indian maiden, speaks thee; of a higher rank than those from whom J you snatched ntc.” “1 am their chieftain, Wahmalonsa— and the red maiden, who informed me of your capture, is Ncuha, the chieftain’s daughter: let the pale face not forget them. There is thy home, and here is the Red man’s!” At litis the Indian left the bluff, and re ceded at a quick pace through the thick and gloomy forest, leaving the youth ga zing vacantly upon the spot from whence he had disappeared. The young man alluded to in the pre ceding, was the only son of one of the first sellers of Connecticut, whom we sltali in troduce under the name of Edward An gletou. lie was a daring and intrepid youth, of superior courage and abilities, and highly esteemed for ltis amiable prin ciples, and thegenereus and disinterested motives which ever actuated him. The day previous, lie had set out on a hunting excursion, when having wandered uncon sciously, further than lie anticipated, was surprised by a war party or me and conveyed a considerable distance down the river, where lie would have fal len a prey to their savage cruelty, but for the timely interference of their Chieftain, who being informed of the capture by his daughter, and warmly urged by her, has tened to ltis assistance, and rescued him from the stake, just at the install they were applying the fire-brands, and convey ed him in safety his settlement. The l'equols were a tribe of Indians,who during the early part of the sixteenth cen tury, greatly harassed and retarded the 1 settlement oi the New England States; and more particularly that of Connecticut, as it lay most contiguous. Their depre dations had been varied : In many instan ces, they had attacked and slain several of the inhabitants without the least provoca tion. and not unfrequently carrying them captives to their nation, where they ended in servitude a miserable existence, without the least hope of ever again seeing their countrymen. Two months had scarcely elapsed since his first capture, when one evening, as An gleton, attended by a young anti hand some female, by the possession of whose hand, he was in the hope soon to reach the summit of what he considered his earthly happiness, walking upon the banks of the river, within sight of the houses, was seiz ed bv a party of I’equots. whs proceeded immediately with them to the main village | where they were presented to \\ ahmalon sa, who being deceived by misrepresenta tions from those who captured them, he directed that they should be secretly con fined. and to await his orders. ) This, with many other similar offences, j could but justly rouse the indignation of j the whites, who had. time after time, with l held their vengeance, arid hoped, by trea i ties, to conciliate a friendly intercourse | with the nation, but without cfleet. They therefore resolved to exterminate or sub due the tribe. The l’equots were on the alert; for conscious of having gone too far in the pretended mitigation of their wrongs, they were in daily expectation of an attack from the whites; who, however I beitnr dilatory in their movements, the In I dians determined to attack them, and thus commence an open warfare, j * * “Where art thou gorng. fa : titer f” ashed Ncuha, one bright Spring morning, as she entered the wigwam after j an usual early ramble, “ that thou armst so j carefully, and so soon f” “ To battle. Neulia,” answered the cluel tain, “ wltv ask me that t” •• 1 thought that Wahmalonsa was the 1 white man’s friend,” replied the maiden. J “So long,” returned the Chieftain, “as the white man is Wamnlonsa's friend, ne '! longer. The Red man must live as well fte fee pale face.” He was sileit for an “ W * nevor des * mir »»Y lliing—Truth l>« Ins our snide, we sail nnd.V her auspice..” instant, then resumed in a more coutidcu tial manner. “ Ncuha! dost thou remember the white youth whom we rescued from the stake but—two moons since ?” “ Father, I do:” she answered with con , siderable anxiety, and at the same time j looking wistfully' in his face, “ what of him ?” she asked. “He lives, but is our prisoner,” the sav j age answered, calmly, as a smile of exul tation seemed to quiver upon his lips—To Neuha, the tone of ltis voice bore the in dication of death. “ Again a prisoner,” she sighed, “ I fear the red maiden can save thee no more.”— Then turning to her father, as a tear of pity glittered in her pure eye, asked, “ Has Waliniiilonsa’s word passed?” “ No,” was the answer, upon which Ne uha attempted to essay in his favor, but was interrupted by him : “ Maiden, thy father loves his people too well, to let the pale face trample upon their rights. A white maiden is also our prisoner: Neuha must look to her, while Wahmalonsa battles with Iter fathers.” So saying, lit; was about to depart,when an Indian in full speed, entered and in formed him that the captive youth had es caped, and slain three of ltis most valiant men. For a moment the Chieftain was silent: conflicting passions warred within his Ijosoih, while a warrior’s rage and madness revolted in the keen glance of his penetrating eye! “Dogs of red men!” lie thundered, “could they not hind him tight enougli ? Could they not watch, that a pale lace must slip from them, and tread half their hills before they find out? Villain begone ! Rid them commence im mediate pursuit, and if they bring him not back before the sun shall set, this blade shall appease its thirst in the blood of some of you ! —Regone !” The Indian flew from the wigwam, fol lowed immediately by VValimalonsa, foam ing with rage; while Neuha, almost un conscious, knelt to the Great Spirit, and fervently implored (lie protection of the | fugitive. Yet for why, she knew not— \ nor did she leave Iter posture, until start-j led by the entrance of the female captive, i Neuha received her kindly, and itnmedi- ! ately prepared for her lmr own bearskins, j and shared with her the food of the red j man. “ Though the red men do not agree 1 with their white brethren,” said the In dian girl, tenderly, “yet Neuha will try to comfort the white Maiden.” Harriet Meidon, the captive, was a young and engaging female—the affianced bride of Edward Angfelon. She was handsome—yet, not to sav exquisitely so : still, there was a something about her, which won the attention, and even unsus pectingly,chained the heart in submission! toher. Edward loved her ; nor was she less uiiuglivJ to Ktiv. vviuui he escaped he searched for her In vain; in wfitch search he slew the Indians, and indeed, run a narrow risk of being retaken. It was from Ncuha that Harriet learned the event. A faint ray of hope shot across her pale and livid features—but the tho’t of his being retaken, in which case site knew there would be little or no chance for his life, chased that transient gleam away, and she insensible relaxed into a pensive and melancholy state. It was toward evening when the Indian scouts returned, without any news of the fugitive, upon which, tfie operations for attacking the white settlements, were sus pended by the Indians, who reasonably concluded their enemies would be on their guard, which was correct For the arri val of Angleton among them, invigorated new exertions in their actions, and from whom they received important informa tion resjtecting the situation of the main Indian Village. Having assembled their forces, they dropped down Wic- river, landed, and form ed their plans of attack. To Edward was entrusted the command of an advanced [ guard, flanked and supported by the main body. It was a a wild,dark night; clouds hung in heavy blackness over the profound and gloomy forest—not a light was to be seen glimmering from the silent village, and save the bright and lived flashes that: glared at intervals, and which only left the eve more bewildered, by the apparent intensity of the darkness which followed, nought remained to guide them correctly. Vet, they beat their way, till the hoarse deep growling of a dog informed them that they were near the village. A bright quick flash gleamed through the woods, as a rifle’s sharp peal broke upon the ear. It was an Indian sentinel! —The next mo ment was one of horrid clamor and confu sion ! The war-whoop was sounded :it was echoed from every quarter! The big thunder muttered through the clouded canopy, while streams of lightning flashed with terrifttc grandeur around the devoted Village! Indians were seen running in every direction, preparing themselves for battle while the whites poured a destruc tive fire amongst them. Wahmalonsa, their e\cr watchful and guardian! Itiel,was at their head, and every where forming them fertile reception of their enemies. “ Nenha !’’ lie exclaimed, as ho sprang from his couch, on the first alarm,and sei zing ltis tomahawk and rifle, “ remain you with the white maiden, here—’tis Iter they seek: but they must shed the blood of Wahmalonsa. before they get her, or harm thee either!” Without waiting for a reply, the Chief sprang like a tiger from his wigwam, and was in an instant lost amid the aurround- j ing darkness. Harriet started noon her! j feet, roused from her slumber bv the din ol battle—“ Heaven protect us !” she ex-1 claimed, “ What can this mean !” “ Re peaceful white maiden,” said the Indian girl, kindly as she approached while thou art with Neuha—Lie down that the death of thy kin may not harm thee.” liar-! ! riot taking her advice, crouched low be- • j side the Rod Maiden, who locked her in a; i fond and kind embrace. For a length of time, the battle raged ! I furiously and without intermission, lit-! j deed it was an obstinate and doubtful con- j I test. Fiercer and fiercer it seemed to! peal, while at intervals, above the terrific! din, rose the yell of-the victorious savage, as he sprung from his cover to seize the scalp of some unhappy victim, who had fallen beneath his deadly aim. Rut fate j was against them. To Harriet and the : Indian Ma!dgp, who were still locked in , the embrace of each other, and lay listen* ! ing with impatience—the noise of the ! battle became nearer and more distinct, ! while the heavy tread of the Indians could ! be distinguished as they seemed to pass :to and fro, in great haste. Instantly, a ; shrill cry of distraction rung through the woods, as a bright, broad blaze sprung up. : l’he village was on fire!—The Indians were flying in every direction ! Wahma losa’s wigwam was near the centre of the village.—ln a few minutes the flames were raging in almost every quarter—while the slaughter among the Indians became most horrible, owing to their almost defence less state. At this instaut, Wahmalonsa entered “Neuha!” lie ctied, as he stood, grim, j b'ocdv, and ferocious the eagle’s plume had dropped from his lordly brow in the hot contest —“ Where art thou—tlrou and the White Maiden ?” “ Here we are father,” was the answer, as Neuha, leading Harriet, advanced to wards him, but beholding his dread ap pearance, shrunk back in amazement, as the light of the blazing wigwams flashed j full upon his terror-bearing features ! The cliieftian paused and viewed bis trembling captive, with a look and silence that were terrible, as she kneeled near the Red Maiden for protection, but neither presuming to speak. At length ho ad-1 dressed her, as he grasped ltis tomahawk j —“Pale face I thy fathers are working destruction!—See yon broad blaze—j swift consuming the home of the Red Man ! Upon whom shall lie wreak his vengeance !—The Great Spirit lias for saken him to-night—and the Red Man , will soon be no more!—Shall he wreak his vengeaneo upon thee ?—Thou art his only victim!—Wahmalonsa’s hatchet shall drink thy blood, and then, in vain may thy kin seek thee !” At this he grappled with a tiger's fury upon the fainting Harriet, while the venge ful tomahawk glittered for an instant in the air, then to fall with certain death!— Ncuha watched every motion of Iter fa- ■ ther, and at the instant sprang between! and caught the descending arm of the! Chieftain!—-“The promise of Wahma-j lonsa must remain unbroken she said, and smiled with angelic sweetness ill' the face of her enraged father. The In dian's arm fell loosely by his side—while his eyes rolled solemnly to Heaven!—j “Great Spirit!” he muttered, “shall the | Red Man’s hatchet fall bloodless at his feet, unrevenged in the crimsoned current ofiiis destroyer ?—Shall the Red Man leave his native home for the usurpation] of the white stranger—without one blow in its defence ?”—he was silent for a mo ment, with his eves still fixed above— “ Silence reigns in thy high courts,” he murmered, “ and the Red Man must wan der, or sleep with his fathers without a name !” Then turning to his daughter with a smile of he. otsm and parental fond ness, said—“ For thee, Ncuha, will I flee —I will save thy life,and then return—” . “ To die, father?” interuptedNcuha. “ Yea, Wahmalonsa will die here—he . loves the land of his fathers—Rut hark ! ; the [tale faces are upon us- -Neuha,come-” j “Rut the White Maiden—?” ( “Her kinsmen are at hand.—While Maiden! rise, and fear not, for Wahina-j , lonsa has promised not to shed thy blood; in anger—thou art free to go—for the Red Man’s faith is pure.” Then turning! I to Neuha, bade her fellow- -The Red and j White Maidens took their last embrace—j , they parted like sisters—Then, led by l Wahmalonsa, Neuha darted like a comet! ; through the raging flames. Edward, from the instant the Indians ; began retreating, commenced searching t ’ for Harriet. He was fcariilly confident t that she had fallen a victim to the relent-j 1 less rage of some bloody savage, or still retained a prisoner by them to be sacri-| ficed. Bloody from itis wounds; he bore the a>j»ect of an Indian himself. In every . < direction he flew—but vain was bis search.! i While Harriet, but ilist delived from onej danger, found herself involved in another,, from which she was at a loss how to ex-j tricate herself. Wahmalonsa hail scarcely t left his wigwam before it was in flames !| Harriet feared to leave it, least she should, encounter some retreating savage,—but j to remain was certain death—She rushed ! at all hazards—The roof crumbled in asj she left! —There was nochoice—Forward j she rushed, halt frenzied, she knew not I where. Just us site turned an angle, the only place where the liana s had not reach ed, she met a human figure. Her pictur ing fancy displayed an Indian, grim and terrible !—She shrieked and fled—“ Har riet !” cried a voice ;~lt was her Edw-erd,' MIL LEDGE VILLE, GEORGIA, SE!»T. 4, 1533- I anil the next moment she was in the dear ■ embrace of the one she loved. | Edward was philanthropic as lie was noble. He learned that the Chieftain Wahmalonsa, with his daughter, were making their escape towards the moun tains closely pursued by a party of whites. Leaving Harriet under proper care, he ; followed them immediately, in hopes of saving the Chieftain’s life and setting him I at liberty, is ease be should be taken.— Meanwhile Wahmalonsa made ltis way, till coming to a narrow defile, on one side ot which, a huge rock rose to an elevated height, and Hung wild and gloomy over the abyss below This theChlet ascended, with Neuha at his side, to take a last fare well of his native home. It was a sad, bean-rending scene.—Here stood the last, the bravest of his race, in contempla tive silence, casting a sorrowed eye upon the desolation before him. Conflicting pas sions warred within his great bosom—a hero’s tear glowed in his fierce eye, and for a moment bedimmed its native brillian cy —A hero’s tear, a hero’s sigh, passed for his departed race.—Rut a bitter smile played upon his lips, as he beheld the sun burst forth from behind a mass of clouds, and send its morning rays over the uni verse— “ What does the eye of the Great Spirit behold, rising from ltis undisturbed re pose ?” be said, as lie folded ltis arms and stood bold and majestic upon the brow of the rock.—“ls there no change which it can behold, since last it sank in the far West ? Look at the smoke which curls in one broad pillar to thy high seat—ol what does it speak ? Does it not tell thee, that it was once the Led Man’s home?— And does it not ask thee, where the proud race are, that once inhabited it ? Does it not ask thee—where the poor Indian is ?-- And thou eanst only say—the white man lias destroyed him !” He was silent, and stood as if powder ing upon his sad and depressed condition —his spirit seemed as in communion with those of his fathers, long since departed. Neuha remained silent, and bathed in tears. She neither moved, looked arond, nor spoke. Rut Wahmalosa started sud denly, as if recollecting himself, said, as he grasped her arm— “ Neuha, my spirit has been among those of thy fathers’, and of thy mother’s, Orinoka—they say that I must send you thither—that they are waiting for thee.” Rite was silent—but a faint Smile of re signation played upon her unclouded but death-like features, as she looked wistfully in his face for an instant, as if in submis sion to his will, then bowed her forehead upon his hand, and bathed it in tears. — At that instant, a shout from behind an nounced that his pursuers were at hand.-- He started-" Neuha ! the palefaces are upon us ! —Thy spirit must go with those of thy fathers. Thou shait not be the slave of the white man—Wahmulonsa’s spirit will soon follow thee— go.” —And his keen blade was sheathed iu her bare bosom.—He reclined ber gently upou the flinty rock—and her pure spirit fled, as “ he fixed Iter eyes ou Heaven. The *un the »kj-, HermM to txjuk down in pity from on hi^h— As lie&th’d colrl hand her featured fair imprest, Iu the calm slumbers of uriclounded rest.’* “Now come, what will,” said the Chief tain, as he grasped his weapons, and rais ed himself front his low posture, where he had been giving full vent to his grief, and and watching the departing spirit of hts daughter—“ 1 can meet it—VV alimalonsa has a heart that never feared, a rifle that never missed —and a tomahawk that was ever true to its purpose.’’ The next instant the white men appear ed in sight, but a short distance; they would have fired, but seeing the calmness with which the Indian awaited their ap proach, thought to make him an easy cap tive. They rushed up the rock, and would have advanced; but Wahmalonsa addressed them in a fearless anshaken tone —“ Stop white men! —Go back to your homes, and leave the Red Man to seek his grave alone,” he said, as he level led his death-bearing rifle at the lorcmost of them— “ Obdurnte ne a portion of the rock Whereon he stood—and fixed hi» levet’d gun. Dark as a sullen cloud before the suit!” «Ye have sought and desolated lii= home,” he continued, “and now seek the last remaining remnant of his race to mur der ! Ye ravenous white men ! —Ye, worse than wolves 1 You hunt him out as you would the—stricken deer—you have driven him to the last brink, you can get him no further. Let the first who dare oppose his arm, or raise a weapon against ifim, step forth, and the tomahawk of IValimalonsa shall soon taste his pale blood!” . A short pause ensued,in which all were silent: no motion was made —At length one of the foremost accosted him, “VV ali maionsa, vield up your arms, and become our prisoner.’’ “No!” thundered the Chieftain, as lie more tightly grasped his deadly weapons, while proud and indignant defiance flash id from his gleaming eyes!—“ Think ye, that the I’cquot < liieftain slew his only daughter to become thy slave! Look til hcr°pure blood—one drop is worth an hundred of you ! "as it to he thy slave he done this ? No, white men. you need not think he craves life ol you—VVahma i lonsa never feared you—nor docsjie fear death.” “Then Wahmalonsa will not yield was asked again. “ You were answered,” was the only re ! ply. “ Soldiers, to your duty.” In an in stant a dozen rifles were leveled— but they met the rifle of the Red Man— “ Tell me, which of you dares to draw his trigger first ?”—lie exclaimed as he turned his ri fle deliberately at the breast of every one while they paused as if hesitating to fire. “ Are you awed at the muzzle of one ritle? Soldiers, fire ?” The leaden deaths whizzed mortally through the breast of the heroic savage. His rifle dropped from ltis shoulder, and he staggered: but rais ing it quick as tho’t— “ ith otto strong effort, Prove their leaden fury back !“ Three fell with him I— lie writhed for a moment in agony—“ Spirits of my fathers —of Neuha :—1 cotnc !”and with ahitter curse upon the heads of his destroyers, while a deep groan escaped him. Itis migh ty spirit winged its upward flight I “ No coward languor mark’d his parting breath 1 The latest accents from his lips that came, Were proud, were fierce, were dreadful, were the same !* Edward, who was in pursuit, was with in hearing of the nqtort of the rifles, but arrived too late to see the Chieftain, ere his last breath had fled. He could but weep, for lie was conscious of the debt which he owed the generous savage. He ordered a decent buiial for the Chieftain and Itis daughter, near the spot where they fell. And though they were hid from his sight, yet he ever retained in his memory, a lively sense of the obligation which he owed:—And often when he thought of them, those thoughts were followed by a tear of sympathy, for the unhappy state of the i’cquot Chieftain and his daughter. It is almost needless to add, that tho elap-te of a few months, made Harriet MeJdon, the happy bride of Edward Ait gleton. A long and prosperous life, with a peaceful close, was allotted to them.— Surrounded by a numerous offspring, and a large circle of friends, they lived honor ed, and died respected—for their virtno, and integrity. MARCH OF INTELLECT. A COLOUUKD COLOQCY. Cuffec. How now, Ca-sar, what you finkin’ob ? You no at Miss Tibb’s coa sart toden Sunday. Caesar. Oh I Goramolly, me and two oder gernrnen wor busy as flea in a nigh cap, ltearin Massa Hanibel giben de lec tors on Cramanology. Cuflee. W hat you mean by Cramyo logy—something to cat ? Ca:sar. Now den, only hear dat! Why Cuflee, you’m as ignorant sis you’m wor* born in Grecian; besides you prouounct ficatiom am abominable, fhamanology something to eat! lie, lie. lie. Why, you niggar, ’tis no such ting, ’tis de hiilis and de hollers of de skull—do nobs, and de no nobs, to show de natural genus ob de in tellect. Let me feel. Oh my eye, what a whopper ober de left ear, dis am do voraferous organ—you hab great genus for eatin fish. Ctiflee. You don’t say so, Cesar, my boy, am dat fashionable ? Ca’sar. Oh werry, when de fish are plentifuller—but let me fed again—Oh 1 by de hokey ! de music organ—why you Cuflee, you am first rate singer. Cuflee. De debt! Ibe I why, Cmsar boy, 1 neber sung notin, no how, dough to be sure I away s tot 1 wor somebody. Caesar. Dai’s cause you’re war neber cdificationcd.—You know what Homer said? Cuflee. What Homer Wilson de bar ber? He sed he’d neber cut hair and shave for less den sixpen a head. Caesar. O! you ignormus. I mean Ho mer de great Poemster—him what libes in Rossum. "How many a wave of beauiifullcr gem ecrena, De ugly boiler ob de oshum bear, How many a ilower (dat means a nigger) is born to brush unseen. And waste its sweetness all about de country * Dats what you may call translatin poem try —you hab not got de proper bumps— only feel dis samasher at de back ob my bead. Cuflee. Oh, my eye, why as I lib, ’tis as big and bard as a twelve cent Graham louf. Ca sar. Yes, my boy, dat am de great proof ob dc genus. Ilannabcl says lis a real Bryant. Cuflee. You no say so—den Casar, spose you polish no more hoots. Caesar. Not arter I hab larnt—but come, Cuflee, dern fellers am laughing at us, dev hab no organs of genus. Cuflee. Here’s wit you, my boy, but first let us go hab something to eat, for I feel de bump voraferous am werry busy knocking at my stomach. Tun vame of Married Men. — “A little more animation my dear,” whisper ed Lady H. to thcgcmle Susan, who was walking languidly thorough a quadrille. “Do leave me to manage my own busi ness, Mamma, ” replied the provident nymph ; “ 1 shall not dance my ringlets out’ofcurl loramarricd man. —“Of course not, inv love; but I was not aware who your partner was.” HORNETS &. HOPPING. What dat make you hop so, Sambo? Hornet, Kuffy !—’humph. Smart vou much ? Yes. berry much—l no know what do and un ting made for, no how. A Vermont pa|*r has nominated Judge M< Lean for the next Presidency. NO. 34.