Georgia times and state right's advocate. (Milledgeville, Ga.) 1833-1834, September 25, 1833, Image 1

Georgia times and state right's advocate., September 25, 1833, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextGeorgia Times P 4k State Rights’ Advocate< BV ROCKWELL 1 UAIIOIU). aao&asA vmm AND STATE RIGHTS’ ADVOCATE, It published It'eckh/in the Town of M U dgevUle, at three dollars per annex, PAYABLE IS ADVANCE. £j* Advertisements inserted at the usual rate=: those sent without a specified number of inser tions, will e published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. Sales of Land, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, are required, by law, to b> held on the first Tuesday in the mouth, between the hours of ten in the forenoon 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 in a public gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale. JS-les of negroes must be at public auction, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual hours of sale, at the place of pub lic sales in the county where the letters Testamentary, of Administration or Guardian ship, may have been granted, first giving sixty days notice thereof, in one of the public ga zettes «f this State, and at the door of the court-house, where such sales are to be held. Notice for the sale of Personal Property must be given iu like manner, forty days previous t the day of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Es tate must be published for forty days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land, must be published four months. Notice for leave to sell Negroes, must be published for four months before any order ab solute ••'hall be made thereon by the Court POETRY. FROM THE N- K. MAGAZINE. STANZAS. I see thee still before me, even As when we parted. When o’er th’ blue eyes’ brilliant heaven A tear had started ; And a slight tremor inthy-tonc. Like that of some frail harp-string, blow n By fitful breezes, faint and low. Told, in that brief and sad farewell, AH that affection's heart can tell. And more than words can show. Yet thou art with the dreamless dead Quietly sleeping— Around the m irbio at thy head The wild grass creeping!— Mow many thoughts, which but belong Unto the livingaud the young, Have whispered from my heart of thee, \\ hen thou wast resting calmly there, Shut from the blessed son and air— Front life, and love and me ! Why did I leave thee !—W ell I knew A flower so frail Might sink beneath the Summer dew, Or soft Spring g ile : I knew how delicately wrought With the mysterious lilies of thought. Was each sweet lineament of thine : And that tly leaven-wad s<ul would gain An etirlt freed m from its chain, IVas there not many a sign 1 There was a brightness in thine eye ; Yet not of mirth— A light whose clear intensity Was not of earth ! Along thy cheek a deepening red Told where the feverish hectic fed. And. yet, «ach fan and t..Um gave A newer and a dearer grace To the mild beauty of thy face. Which spoke not of the grave ! Why did I leave thee I—Far away They told of lands Glittering with gold, and none to stay The gleaner’s hards For this 1 left thee —ay. and seld The riches ts my heart for gold For yonder mansion’s vanity For green hung with fl wers, For marbled court and orange bowers— j Grove, fount, and fl. weritig trees. Vain—worthless, all! The lowliest spot Enjoyed with thee, A richer and a dearer lot Would seem to me : For well I knew that thou couldst find Contentment in thy spurtless mind, And in my own unchanging lore. Why did 1 leave thee!—Fully mine, Ah nd... .a heart... .a soul like thine, What could i ask above ! Mine is a selfish misery. • • • 1 cannot weep. For one supremely blest like tiice With heaven’s sleep *•... The passions and the strife ot time Can never reach thirl sinless dime, V\ here the redeemed in spirit dwell!... Why should I w eep that thou art free From all the grief which maddens me !• •• habited a id loved. •• .Farewell! | niSEELLA A JLC V S. Orn the N. Y. Standard » A leak troui a “ Becjei’s E«g” “LandO!” cried the man at the mast head,an old weather beaten seaman, who' was always sentalolt as look out, because he invariably discovered land long before J any one else could. He did not exactly see it, but between seeing, smelling, and: knowing, ho was never out ol the way.— He squinted, and wore the ugliest mug that was ever clapt on to the forward part of a man’s cocoa nut. It looked like a bod ed pudding with the plumbs picked out. — We were all sure he was right, and ol course went forward to catch a look at the coast of the United States, and a mouthful or so of spray, that was flashing over out decks a> if the devil kicked it on end.— We waited a long time before we made it out, but at length it was determined to he the Capes ot Virginia. .Many a look was directed to our reefed topsail ; no one ofoourse dared speak, but the skip per could sou plainly that every man toll as if he woul .giie a month’s pay togrum hle a little. At lust after sufficiently en joying our imp ttienee, he gave the order to shake out the reefs,and in loss than u«> time, every rag she could carry was on her, and we rushing over the waters with the speed of the dun deer. As w o passed the Gapes we saw a large ugly vessel com ing down, and old Tom after eyeing her for a moment, cxcluimcd, "‘L't-—n my I bloody eyes and tarry top-lights, poop lanterns, top gallant eye-brows, and all the rigging abaft my mizzen chains, if that j ain’t the old Cyanc, and I hav’nt set eyes j on her since she first it id stripes anJ stars I riln U P at. her gafl.” “By the deep lour,” j cried the man in the main chains, “ Back ; your fore top-sail sir,” said the skipper; | round went the yards, and the little eralt soon lay quietly awaiting a pilot, and the approach of the jackass frigate, as the cor vette was generally termed. - The num ber of our craft was made, the ’Cyane iun up hers, and was soon along side of us, gat re us orders to go to Washington City to lay up, and was oft - !br the station we had left. Ilotv beautifully did the little Naughty bejat up that bay, and how proud were her officers ol her performance.— Every man at id officer knew his duty, and the sound had hardly left the trumpet, when the order was executed. Yards flow around, howlins were hau'ed out, and sheets trimmed aft,with a rap ditt tha: I have never since seen. The little craft knew where she was going, and that she was am mg the much famed Baltimore clippers ; so she did her best, and Cape Lookout,Cape I.tjokin,Cape YoCape,and ( ape Again, never saw any thing neater or quicker approaching them. A t Wash ington Navy Yard, we let go the crooked j iron, sails were furled, yards squared bv the lifts anil braces, sails unbent, running rigging unrove, and then the tidy little cl pper was placed in ordinary until anew j crew should be shipped for her. The next day the first lieutenant < all ;d the men aft, and told them that they were at liberty to go, hut that the appropriation for the quar- 1 ter being expended, they would be obliged to wait for their pay until the third day. This was a damper, and after a short con sultation a boatswain’s mate was appoint ed spokesman: he deposited his chew of tobacco in his hat, hitched up his trovvsers. touched the long lock of hair on his lore head, and asked the first, if his shipmates and self had not done their duty like sea men. The answer, of course, was in the! affirmative, but vet he and the crew could not understand how Uncle Sam could be I so poor oil Tuesday, and on Friday be I able to pay off not only the little Naughty, but the big .lava in the bargain, that had j arrived a few days before, and was to he i paid off on that day. They requested to see the captain. The slipper came on deck, and the explanation was gone | through with again in the same way. It j was received in silence, and with respect, j but there was a good deal of shaking of) heads. They all went on shore, their] landlords furnished them with money, and in two hours they might be seen in coaches bound for the office of i lie Secretary of the j Navv. They were politely received ; the! secretary took off his hat, and the same story was again told. This time there was a good deal of> grumbling,bar one or tire ot(l ones icm.ri-. ed, that the secretary could not know a great deal, for instead of touching his hat, like an officer, he had taken it ofb and moreover he had been informed that he had never smelt salt water, and of course could not know much cither about busi- ] ness or manners. It was determined to call upon the President himself; and away they drove, the old gentleman made his j appearance, explained in the same man- j ner, but added that the craft they belonged I to had been so wc 1 worked, and made soj quick a passage that she was in three j days sooner than it was expected, and | therefore the money had not been pro vided, he concluded by ordering some thing to drink, and he himself drank their healths, and the last cruise of their fast lit tle craft. Now the matter was under stood ; of course the little Naughty would always be ahead of her time, and of every thing else. If the rest of them had only j just told their story as the commander in chief did, they wouldn’t have troubled “his: honor.” but now it was a clear as the coil | of the top-sail haulyard. So they drank the President’s health, gave him three j cheers, and drove off ger.ectlv satisfied. — j That evening the President, Presidentess, and several members oi the cabinet attend ed the theatre; upon their arrival they) were received with loud cheers from the ] pit. The sailors had chartered it, and were making their observations, in a per-! fectivgood humored manner. A consul* i tion was held among them in whispers, j and at the end of the act, lour seamen ap j [tcared among the boxes, bearing two i travs, upon which were placed wine, | brandy, old whiskey, cakes, oranges and j nuts. These were offered to the i resi dent and his cabinet officers. This extra ordinary proceeding rather astonished the persons to whom the compliment was of fered, and they declined. The seamen j were taken all aback, and “ d—n my eyes ’ j were neither few nor far between, i n I old boatswain’s mate clapped his pipe to i his mouth, and the shrill, prolonged sound j that signifies belay, produced an instant \ calm. “ Quarter-deck there,” shouted the pcaee-makcr. “ flcllow bo," was respond ed by the tray bearers. “ Ha'* *t you orot no more manners nor to hand the stuff to the gentlemen first ? Sarvc the ladies you lubbers, and then every thing will tie square bv the lifts and braces,” again -houted the knight of the whistle, serening his foot, bowing his head, and tugging at Itis forelock. His order was beyed. the ladies smiled, each took a glass of wine, the President an I secretaries followed their example. Ihe cheers were repeat jed. the tray s made tlsir rounds in the pit. and the seamen conscious of having done I’/LLL, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER, the polite thing, were in so excellent « humor, that even during the farce, (when ! the chief magistrate etc. had gone,) al though it had a sailor for a hero.and Jack's quick eye detected infallible signs of the j long shoreman, n most Christian forbear ance was practised, and the trembling actor went through his part, without a | single sign of displeasure from the tars, for . having assumed a character, the highest | too in their estimation, that he had no pre j tensions to. Popular FALACiEs.-HThore is a Ivon j derful vigor of constitution in a popular 1 fallacy. When the world has once got hold of a lie, it is astonishing how hard it jis to get it out of th- world. You beat it I about the head till it seems to have given j np the ghost ; and, lo ! the next day it is tas healthy as ever again. The host ex | ample of the vitality ofa fi.te saving,which | has the advantage of being a fallacy, is in | the over-hackneyed piece of nonsense nt ! tributed to Archimedes, viz ; that he could move the earth, if he had anyplace | at a distance from it to fix a prop for his i I lever.” Your Excellency knows that this | i is one of the standard allusions, one of the | ! necessary stock in trade, for all orators, | poets, and newspaper writers; and per ; sons, whenever thev meet it, take Archim j odes for an extraordinav great man. and : erv, “Lord, how wonderful!” Now, i r j Archimedes had found his place, his ptop, ! and his lever, and if he could have moved with the swiftness of a cannon hall, 480 | miles every hour, it would have taken him i just 4 1,003,540,000 years to have raised the earth one inch ! And yet the people will go on quoting absurdity as gospel ; wondering at the wisdom of Archimedes. THE EAST BAriirr.Oß. ‘Not a divorce stirring—but a great many in emhrovo in the shape of mar riage.’—Moores Byron. It was on New Year’s F.ve in 18>0. that twelve voung professional men sat around the table ofa club room, at sup per. The cloth had been removed, and nothing was yet upon the mahoganv hut an expressive 1 lack bottle, and a single thin spirituollo looking glass to each mem ber. They had drank up to Gallnher’s best. Th j Old South struck eleven, and the last hour of the vear was hailed with an uprorious welcome. •A humpep. gentlemen,’ said Hnrrv St. John, the ‘sad dog’ of the club, ‘brim vour beakers, mv friends, and let cverv man he under the table when the ghost of the old year passes over.’ * No, no!’ tlmidlv remonstrated Frn°«t Cotirlav. a pale graduate just from the U niversifv, who sat modestlv at the bottom of the table, ‘no. no! it is a end hour, not a merrv one! C ork the bottle till nOer twelve 1 ' ,- e have lost too mnnv hours of the vear to throwaway the last ! Let us he ra mi t| )f > Mock strikes, at least, and then drink if you will. Tor *«>rt i never pass these irrevocable periods with out a chill at mv heart. Pome. St. John, indulge me this time ! Push back the bot tle !’ The dark eves ofthe handsome stu dent flashed ns he looked around, and the wild spirits of the club were sobered for a moment—onlv ! ‘Good advice.’ said Fred F.spesel, a a voung phvsician. breaking the silence, j ‘but, like mv own pills, to he taken at dis- ! cretion. Sink moralizing. T sav. There J are times and places enough when wr must be grave.! for one. nevermope when j 1 can he merrv ; what sav. O'f.avender J Fill vour glass, and trump mv philosophv.’l ‘Smother me ! but you're all wrong.’ hiccupped the dandv, who was alwavs sentimental in his cups. ‘Gour'av. there. I (lam shocked at vourattroe'ous cravat.! by the way, Ernest.) Gourlav is nearer to it —but he smacks of his vocation 1 v o preaching—let us he (pass the bottle Tom!) sober. Send for a dozen ‘white top’ and when the clock strikes tw-twe!ve )thosc cur-cursed olives make me stutter! seal it up—solemnly—for the last sum- , j ving m-m-member —solemnly, T sav!’ ‘Whit’s the use !’ thundered Tom Cor liss. who, till the third bottle had not spo jkena word, and from sundrv such svnrp- I toms was st'oi glv suspected of heme in ; love, ‘ who would drink if? not T. faith ! What’—sit down when eleven Such fel | lows ‘slept without their pillows.’to drink. | It’s an odd taste of yours, mvde.tr mnea ■ t oni ! It would be much better to traves- I tie that whim, and seal a bottle of vinegar | for the last bachelor !’ | The proposition was received with a I universal shout ofapprobation.—The vin egar was ordered, with pen ink and pn | per. Gourlav wrote out a bond hv which every member bound himself to drink if.in case it fell to his lot, on the night the last ! man, save himself, was married; and af ter passing round the table, it was laid aside with its irregular s'gnatures, till twelve, As the clock struck, the seal was set upon the bottle, and after a somewhat thoughtful bumper, the host was called, and the deposit with its document was formally charged to his keeping. * * • # » * | It was on the last night ot l s 3<\ that a gentleman, slightly corpulent, nnd with j here and there a gray hair about his tern* pies, sat down alone a> the club table in ——Street with a dusty bottle and a single glass before him. Ti c rain was beating violently against the windows, ; and in a pause of’ the gust, as he sat with hi* hands thrust into his pockets, the so ' l« inn «©•*• ofthe <>ld : out b, striking He l mn, rcsched his wr. iic started, andt ( seizing the bottle, held it up to the light, j ! with a contraction of the muscles of his! face, and a shudder of disgust quite incom ! prehensible to the solitary servant who' waited his pleasure, ‘You may leave the room, William,' said he, and as the door dosed he dr w front' his pocket a smoky, time-stained manu script, and a number ot letters, and threw them impatiently on the tahie. After sit-J ting a moment and tightening his coat a- i bout him in the manner of one who screws 1 up his resolution with same difficulty, he I tilled his glass from the bottle, and drank j it with a sudden and hysterical gulph. *Pah ! it cuts like a sword. And so ! here I am,the last bachelor! 1 littie thought it ten years ago, this night. How fresh it is in mv mm. Ten \ia s. sir.ee, lj nut the seal on that bottle with my own j hand? It seems impossible. How dis-j tinctly I recollect these dozen rascally i Benedicts who are laughing at me to night,: seated round this very table, and roaring at my proposition ! Al. married St.: Johryind .•'red Esperel and little Gourlav,! and to night, last of all, (/Lavender has | got before me with his cursed alacrity, i And 1 am—- ii’s useless to deny it—the old bachelor. 1, Tom Corliss—that atn as soft in tny nature as a ‘milk diet !’ 1 —that could fill in love, any time in my life, from mere propinquity ! I—that have sworn (and broken) more vows than vercury ! I—that never saw a bright eye.: nor touched a delicate finger, nor heard a treble voice without making love present-, ly to its owner! I Tom Corliss—an old bachelor ! Was it for this I flirted with! you, ? Was it for this 1 played shadow three nights successively to you, ? Was it for this oh : ,jffiat 1 flattered you into the belief that you were a wit, and found you in puns a fortnight to keep up the illusion? •> as it for this I forswore laughter, oh serious , and smothered your mother with moral saws ? \\ as it for this, I say, that 1 have danced with you time-out of-mind-wall flowers, and puck ered my w its into birth-day -rhymes, and played groomsman monthly and semi monthly at an unknown expense for ker seymeres and bridal serenades ? Oh Torn Corliss I Tom Corliss! thou hast beaten the hush for every body’, but hast caught no bird thyself! And so—they have each written me a letter, as they promised. Let me see :—; Hear Tom llow is the hypocrene? I I think 1 see you with the bottle before you! Who would have dreamed that you would drink it ? Pour vioi-memc, I am married as you know, and my chil dren sirg, ‘we are seven.’ I am very happy—very- My wife—(y ou know her) —is a woman of education, and knows ev ery thing. I can’t say but she knows too much. Iler learning does pester me,now and then—l confess that I think if I were to marry again, it would he a woman that j did't read Greek. Farewell, Tom. Mar ty mid be virtuous. Yours, HARRY. N. B. Never marry a‘woman of tal ents.’ Ha! ha! happy—very happy!’ Hum bug, my dear Harry! Your wife is an aloe, as virulent as vet digits, a „j you the most unhappy of Benedicts. So much ' lor \our crowing. V» e’ll see another : Tom, 1 pity thee. Thou poor, flannel wrapped, forsaken fidgetty bachelor ! j drink the. vinegar and grow amiable! Here am I, LL st as Al rahan . My wife is the most,innocent (that’s It r fault,) by the way—the most innocent creature that lives. She loves me to a foolish degree. Site has no opinion but mine—no will ol her own (except such as I give her, you understand) —no faults, and no prominent propensities. lam happy as 1 can expect in this sad wot Id. Marry, Tom, marry, j “The world must be peopled.” Thine ever, FRED. N. B. Don’t marry a woman that is j remarkable for her simplicity.’ I envy not thee, Fred Esperel! Thy wife is a fool, and thv children, egregious ninnies every one ! Thou wouldst give the whole hunch of their carmtty heads for thy liberty again. Once more : Tom, my lad ! get married ! ‘Matri mony,’you know is like Jeremiah’s figs- -! the good arc very good’—(the rest of the j quotation is inapt.) My wife is the. pret-! tiest woman in the parish. I wish she was’nt, by the way !) my house is the re sort o' ali the gay fellows about town. I’m quite the thing (my wile is, that is to say) every where. lam excessively happy'— excessively—assure yourself of that. I grow thin! they say—but that’s age. And I’ve lost my habit of laughing—but that’s proper, as I’m warden. On the whole, however, I’m tolerably contented, and I think I shall live these ten years—if mv wife settles down—as she will, y ou know, God bless you, Tom. How is the vine gar ? Well—marry ! mind that. Yours always, G. I N. B. I would’./ marry a beauty if I were you, Tom. Poor Gourlav ! His wife's a belle, anil he's as jealous as BLcboard—dying abso lutely of corrosion. It’s eating him up' bv inches. Hang the letters ! they make j me melancholy. One more, and I’ll throw the 1 Aiding thing* into the lire ; Mv Lweet Tom — l hope the Gods have prom *ed thee anew weusand. The vinegar improves, doubtless, by age. I must he u satisfaction, too, thut it is nectar 1 of your own bottling. Here I am—the happiest dog that i« coupled. \'v wi'e (1 j took warning from Gonrlny) is not run al ler by n pelt ot puppies bbt’s not | handsome Heaven knows—(l wish she. ■ were a trifle prettier) but she’s its good as | Dorcas. Ah ! how we walk and talk, e | ' citings. (I prefer that time, as I can im i agine her pretty, when I can’t see her; you know, Tom. And how we sit in the ! tliin light of the boudoir, and gaze at each other’s just perceptible figure, and sigh ! Ah, Tom I marry and be blest as I am ! Your’s truly, PHIL. P. $. Marry a woman that is at least i pretty, Tom. The Gods forbid that I should marry j one like yours, Phil. She is enough to ! make one’s face ache I And so you ate all and scontented—one's wife is too smart, another’s too simple, another’s too pretty. ; a,, d another's too plain ! And what might: not mine have been, had I too been irrepa-! rably a husband ! Well—l am an ‘old bachelor.’ I didn’t | think it though, till now.—How hard it is jto believe oneself past any thing in this j world I And is it mv lot, with all my pe culiar fitness for matrimony,—with ail my j dreams of woman, my romance, my skill .in phillandering—it is mv lot to be laid on i the shelf alter all ? Ant Ito be shunned ; by sixteen as a bore—to be pointed at by schoolboys as an ‘old bachelor’—(shock ing title !) to be invited to superannuated tea-drinkings—to be quizzed with solicita tions for foundling hospitals—lo be asked of my rheumatism, and pstered tor snuff, j and recommended to warm chairs! The j Gods pity me ! But, not so fast ! " hat is the prodi -1 gious difference! W hat if I were to be ! married! I should have to pay for a j whole instead of a part—to feed Heaven know s how many mouths instead of one— !to give up my whole bed for a half or quarter—to dine at another’s hour, and not my’ own—to adopt another’s friend ships and submit mv own to her pleasure —to give up my nap after dinner for a romp with a child—to turn my library’ in to a nursery, and my quiet fire into a Ba bel—to call on my wife’s cronies, and dine with my wife’s followers, and humor my wife’s palate, at the expense of my J own, cronies, followers, and palate. But 1 there’s domestic felicity,’ say’s the imp at j my elbow, and interchange of sentiment. | and sweet reliance, and the respectability of a man with a family, and duty to the state, and perpetuation of name, and com fort, and attention, and love ’ Prizes in a lottery—all! and a whole life the price of a ticket! And why not live single, then. "hat should I have then, which I cannot have now. Company at my table? I can have it when I like it—and what is better, such ns Dike. Personal attention ? Hal*’ a wife’s “in money will purchase the most assiduous. Love? What need have I of that? or how long does it last when it is I compulsory ? Is there a treasure in my oeart that will canker if it is not spent! Have 1 affections that will gnaw like a hunger if they are not fed. Must l love ! and be beloved ? j i’ll look into it the first day’ I feel meta ■ physical. Tar MMta j At Aiiujv, in i I'tiiidud, are seen masses ot pucit, " men looss hue toc..s among me totiage. At me small ii.tiincL oi uj di aj e u OMiiaMoraUic quanti ty ot coast *s Co.cteu w,m pucii, ,vmcn t uns u tong Way om to sea, ana tortus a ua«t,i miner water. J lie i nett e,atie is situated on the sine ol a mil, 80 leet above me level ot me sea, lrotn widen U is ats ia.it mice quarters ot a mile ; a graniial •i-S lit iCaas toil, which is covered wiiu puo.i tit a Hardened slate, and trees and vegetal,on nourished upon H; 1 lie roan leaning to lite taHe runs tft rough a wood, j ana emerging trout ti me spectator siattus J upon me uotners ot wtiat at nrsl glance appears to be a lase, containing many j wooueu islets, but winch, on a second ex | amitiaiiou, ptoves to be sheet ot usphaltum, ! unciseciod inroughout by crevices three or tour ieet ueep and full of water. The pucit al uic side of the lake is perfectly 1 nard ana cold, but as one walks towards ; the iiititdie, wim the shoes off' iu order to "ado liirougut the water, die heat giadu ! any increases, the pitch becomes softer and suiter, until at last it is seen boiling in a i.quid Stale, an i the soles of the feet be come so heated that it is necessary to daucc up and down in a ridiculous man ner. T lie air is then strongly impregna ted with bitumen and sulpher, and as one moves along die impression of the feet re mains ou the surface of '.lie pitch. During me rainy season, it is possible to walk over the whole lake neat ly, but in the hot season a great part of it is not to be ap prouoned. Although several attempts nave been made to ascertain the depth of tne pitch, no bottom has ever been found, flic lake is about a mile and a hull in cir ! cuntlereuce ; and not the least extraordi- I nary circumstance is. that it should con tain eignt or ten small islands, on which j trees arc growing close to the boiling pilch, iu standing still on the lake nenr I Lite centre lor some, the surface gradually sinks, till it forms & great bowl us it were, uun wtieu the shoulders arc level with the general surface of the lake it is high time to get out. Some time ago, a ship of war iaiiucd cask* to fill with pitch for the pur pose of transporting it toEng'and the casks were rolled on the lake, and the hands |commenced filling; but a piratical look* i m craft appearing in the offing, the ft ignm jaiid all hands went in chase—on returning to the lake# al! the casks had Stink and jutsuppeared.—bcK'OCC is a loss how to* TOLU HE I \I»REU 37. account for sjc.i an extraordinary phe nomenon as this pitch lake, lor it does not seem to occupy the mouth of anexhju eu crater, neither is the hill on wltied it is situated of volcanic origin, for its b isis is clay. The flow of pitch from the lake is immense: the whole country around, ex cept near the Bay of Crapo. which is pro tected by’ a hill, being covered w ith it; and it seems singular that no eruption has ta ken place within the memory of man, al though the principal of motion still exists in the centre of the lake. The appearance ofthe pitch wich had hardened, is as it the whole surface had holed up in large bub bles, and then suddenly tooled; but where the aspealtum is still liquid, the surface is perfectly Smooth. Many ex periments have been made for the purpose of ascoi'tuiiiing whether the |,i;ch could be applied to any useful purpose. Admiral Cochrane, who was possessed of the en terprising and speculati e genius of his family, sent two ship loads ot it to Eng land, but after a vaiiety of experfincnts, it was ascertained, that in order to render the asplialtum fit for use, it was necessatv to mix such a quantity of oil with it that the expence of the oil alone, would more than exceed the price of pilch in England. A second uttempt was made by a compa ny styled the Piteh Company, who sent out an agent from England, but finding that Admiral l ochrauc had failed, and being convinced that any further attempt would be useless, the matter dropped. Singular Customs. There is a custom, propel to Sicily, which I must not forget to mention. This is a right of purchase of a singular kind. If any man buy ail esta'c. be it house, land or vineyard, the neighbor ofthe purchaser, for the space of an entire year afterwards may eject him by an advance of price. In vain would the purehser give more to the origional owner. This singular law is gen erally evaded by a falslmod. The pur chase money is stated, in the articles ofthe agreement, at a higher sum than has been argreetl upon in the presence of four wit nesses. There is another no fess singular law in Sicily, according to which, any man can oblige his neighbor to sell his home, if he will pay him three times its value. The intention of this law was, the improve ment of the towns. It was to encourge the possessors of large houses to purchase the humble abodes ofthe poor. —Count Stol berg’ Travels. “ Touch not—handle not.” —One of tnose meddling gentlemen, who, like Thomas of old, are never satisfied until they have put their finger on every thing they see, was not long since observed by a itiend with his hand “done up,” to use an every day phrase, in some half dozen handkerchiefs. I e accosted him with the usual quest.o.i. “What ,i!s ' our hand ?” “Why,” said lie, “’totherday 1 went into the mill to see ’em saw clapboards, and 1 saw a thing whirling round so swift, and it looked so smooth and slick that t thought I’d just touch rn v finger to i: and see how it felt, and don’t yon think it took the eend of it right olfi and then they hollowed oat—you ills’.it ■ -cl, that, t’s the carcilar saw thu. su . s all the t,.?- boards, b)t they spo.M. hail a second . o late, tl.ceeuj of tny tiiigei was gone and I never seed it since.’ JV.nr art Spec mor. FEW ALE REPUBLICANS. The author of Cyrii Thornton, (Mr. Hamilton,) in h.sucw work entitled, “Men and Alanneisin Amt iica, ’ says, “No woman, conscious of attraction ; was ever a republican in her heart. Beau ty is essentially despotic—it uniiormly as serts its power, and never yet consented to the surrender of a privilege I have certainly heard it contended in the I’nited States, that all men were equal, but never did 1 hear that asscition horn the lips of a lady. On the contrary the latter is always conscious of the full extent of her claims to preference—admiration, and is never satisfied until she feels them to be ac knowledged. And what zephyr is too light to fill the sail’s of a woman’s vanity I The form of a feature, the whiteness of a hand, the shade of a ringlet, a cap, a feature, a trinket, a smile, a motion—all or any of them, or distinctions yet finer and more shadowy, if such there be—are enough, here and elsewhere, to constitute the - : gn and Sibolctli of her fantastic su p oruacy. It is in vain therefore, to talk oflemale republicans; there exists and can exist no such beings on either side of the Adautic, lor human nature is the same in both, Sajior’s Veracity. —A son of Nep tune said the other day to a brothc r tar, Jack, you nerer caught me in a lie in your life. Very true, replied Jack, but I have chased you from on lie to another all day. “Ifßritania rule the the waves,” said a writing master in a storm,“l wish slic'd rule ’em stiaiUr .” A IJibcrn an, hearing a blind man coll ed “a good looking man, exclaimed,*‘By St. Patrick, il l had said so much, 1 should have been accused of making a bull. Low can he be a good ltKiking man, when 1c it> so stal k b ind that lie can’t look at all.’ Either Way.— “ Will you havcjne?*said a 'oi.ng man lo nmodest little girl. “No «.j n,” »;iid site,“but you uuy nave me if you will.