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iiv Ttton as iiawi;<*. i:m». VOL. 111. NO. fl 3. df \>.Vinon, IB Y ?. G, HO BCNHOtV, Publisher (By Authority,) of the Loirs of the I nifed Shifts: Office on (Irveiio Street, nearly oppo- Mite the Market. Issued oveiy Tuexlav moi iring, at $3 per annum Ns subscription taken lor less than a yem mil no paper discontinued, but at the optionot the pi.ulisher, until all arrearages are paid. \dvertiseniests conspicuously inserted at the usual rates —those not limited when handed in, will be inserted ’till forbid, and charged accord inglv. ‘ ’ CHANGE OF DIRECTION. 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JI ISE ELL A LOI S. From the Georgia Constitutionalist. BASCOMBE AND POST BOY. i A writer in the American Turf Register ' and Sporting Magazine for Oct., having attempted to reverse the position of these celebrated horses in the estimation, by pla cing Post Boy first and Bascombe second, it is an net ofsheer justice to expose the er rors of the writer and the sophistry of his reasoning. “Render unto C<v>ar the things which sire Cafsar’s,’ Bascombe fairly van quished the champion of the northern turf, an<! in doing so, made sis I consider, the best 4 mile race which his ever been run in the United States, not excepting even the great match even between Henry and Eclipse. The average time ofthe two first heats between Eclipse and Henry was 7 43. The average time of Post Boy and Bas- ' . combe was 7 50. No one who is a judge . of si track will dispute, that a horse could t ( hsive’been run each mile 2 l-2s. quicker in i the condition of the track at the Eclipse | anti Henry race, than could have been done | when Bascombe and Post Boy made their | rnn. Assuming this to be correct, it would | bring down the time of Bascombe to 7 40. | The weight w hich Henry carried was lieav- i ier than is now placed upon horses of the same age, but any difference on that score ( was more than counterbalanced by st very high wind which prevailed on'lhe day of Bascombe’s race. If tlien Ibe correct in my I calculation!,, [and I feel very certain that 1 am] Post Boy has not only transcended the best effort of his celebrated sire, but far surpasses) himself on any former occasion, aud I do believe outstripped every living ] horse in America excepting his conqucrer John Bascombe. The writer states that Post Boy challen ged Bascomhe’to run on the Island this fa at an odds ofsl 1,000 to SIO,OOO, and that the proposition was declined and met by a counter proposition to this effect: By a fiction, to assume that Bascombe was in Al abama, and to give or take 4000 to make } a race for $20,000, either in the union j course or on that ot' Augusta Georgia.— Now, sir, Col. Crowell assumed t*o such fiction. He knew very well that it would i suit his business much better to train his' horse where he could keep an eye on his as- j fairs at home, at thu same time, and for this convenience h was willing to pay a differ ence ol S2OOO, or bet a difference of 4000. On the other hand, had Post Boy made ihe match to run on the Island he would have hail the sum ol S2OOO, to compensate, jn part, that extra expense which he v o dd incur and d mage which his business al ' home might sustain in consequence of his absence. \V,is this fiction? It is prepos-I terous to call it so, Now, sir, it was this: Col. Crowell if you will make a match for SIO,OOO, and give us a chance to retrieve the lost reputation ofourhorse, we will give you SSOO to pay your expenses at the As tor housy tiiis summer, and as to the injury your plantation affairs might sustain at hom< von must settle that in the best way you can. Was this, sir, a fair proposition ? Was jt such an one as would naturally come from those who were, as liny now pretend, con fident of success on a second trial.’* How, will it compare with Col. Crowell's pro position t<> give or lake? As the writer says, Bascombe was there at Post Boy’s side ami that his presence there was no fiction, for they felt that he was there, 'True,sir, and he would have had to take as many steps to get to Georgia as Post Roy, would havt to drink the same water, breath the same air, aud in every respect would have been upon an equal footing, Then you may en quire why the friends ofPost Boy were w ill ing to match him in New York and not in Georgia, or w hen they were so eager to bet 11,000 to 10,000, they could not be urged into a bet 0f524,000 to 20,000. it may be accounted for in this way and I can ac count for it in no other. It was very well understood that the difference between Bas- CQtnbe and Post Boy was not very great, ®ud that although Bascombe fairly beat him, still there was a chance that Bascombe luight break down in his training, and pay forfeit, or he might be out of fix, and be of flJwtw© defeated, mid thus by accident, yield to Post B<jy, were willing to risk a grant deal for the mere chanee of relrcviug a lost rep ,• utntion. Why, sir, the owners oi Post Boy would not have hail to go a dollar in the , race. ( hagrin would have stimulated some to take a share of the bet, aud the interests of life Turf, the Taverns, Kc.— would have taken the balance. This®lnav account to you for their unwillingness to run for $20,000 nt Baltimore, only 200 miles from Post Boy’s stable, when it was 800 miles from Bascomb’s. “1 he writer says that many in the South may content themselves with the simple event that Bascombe has won the race.” We are not so simple as that either. When we find, sir that we have eclipsed the great est effort ot I'm present day, that we have driven the northern champion to make time that hit friends themselves had scarce ly dare imagine, we are assured that we have something more substantial to rest uponjtl an tl;e|tnere fact of winning the race. No v, sir, I will show you the inconsisten cy of the writer: "He tells us in one breath that they would not make the match to run over any other ground than the Long Is land Course, because they wanted to test the character of the two horses on the same ground where they had been defeated, in order that the variation ofthe ground, Bcc. might not be a subject of controversy, in 1 the next breath he informs us that l’o-t Boy ! followed Bascombe to Trenton—was here j no variation of ground ? While he was in j pursuit of Bascombe, why did he not fol low on as far as Baltimore, where the friends of Bascombe would have backed j him to an unlimited ex ent? Where Post Boy would have hail a chance (by I catching Bascombe lame, sick, or off his foot) ot mending his shattered reputation, ! and that chance would have cost him but s2s—whereas by following on as far as i Baltimore, this chance might perchance I have cost them $20,000. The write) goes on to say, that Bascombe , I has never won a race of three mile heats in less than fix minutes. This is an error.— ‘ He ran it in less time over the La Fayette Course last December. He then goes on to say be ran a single four mile heat in 7 44 over the finest track on the face ofthe earth. Now, sir, I say unequivocally, that it is ' not so, and I will put the friends of Post Boy to the test. The writer states that he j ran his four mile heat at Trenton 1 47. Now, sir, I will procure for him a bet ofi five thousand dollars, that Post Boy can not run over the La Fayette Course a sin gle turn on any one day in .May or June next, with Ids appropriate weights, in the I time laid down for his fourth mile, say Im. 475. I will pledge myself to procure the sum ofssooo on the issue, and if they de sire it, 1 do not doubt being able to procure the sum of $25,000. Jn dry weather a bou' two thirds of the ground is very firm, but the balance is very heavy from having been sanded. The shape ol it is unfavora ble, some ofthe turns being short. Another proof that it is not very favorable to time is, | that no horse lias eVer yet moved arotid it in less than 1 50, even with our favorable w eights w hich the writer speaks of. The best time, 2 miles, that has been made w;;g 3 50, and the best 4 miles was Baseombe’s I 7 44, which stands 12s. better than Bay Maria’s time the same week, and to have saved her life she could not have made the time which she had made six months previ ously, in her race with Post Boy on the Is land with only two more pounds weight upon her back. According to the best cal culation I can make, a horse is able to make ■ as good time on the Union Course in June, ! with New York weights, as he can make over the La Fayette Course in April, with our weights. In one breath he wishes us to belive that Bascombe is no great scratch : after all; in the next, when he remembers ' that he cannot lower Bascombe without i bringing Post Boy down with him,he wish- ' es us to believe that lie is a wonderful ani- j trial, but that Post Boy is a little more so. He informs us that Post Boy ran his firtt 1 ■ mile in 2m. 2s. and under circumstances j which induced his friends to believe that be ; c hi Id not have performed it in any quicker tunc. This is rather too severe a tax upon our creduiity, though it may be very satis factory to those who wish to believe it. In ■ the first ph.ee, we arc in the habit of believ ing that every horse can run his first mile ' q iickvr th in the second, second quicker ' j than i lie third, and so on. Now, as the | first mile took 2m. 2s. and as the whole j distance was done in 7 49, it follows that I ionic part ofthe ground was done in less ! time. Now if contrary to all formerexpe rience. Po t Boy increases his speed with his distance, he had better banter the world foreig n mile heats against horse flesh, and if he will continue to 30 miles, he can banter the very lightning from the heavens. Neither docs th s w> iter’s statement corres pond with the manner of running Post Boy in previous races. He (as 1 am inform < d always ran a waiting race, and whoa he ran at the Union Course, made his run from the north corner in the last mile.— I hi. was the game that he expected to play up o.i Bascombe, i n I would have carried '' into execution had not the managers of B scombe [w ho had suffered before from he north corner] kej t Post Boy so busy hat when he got there the brush w as gone. I will close this communication, already too lengthy, with the declaration, that J have no interest whatever in John Bas combe, that I ditl not bet a cent on the is sue ofthe race between him and Post Boy; that I have no sectional feeling in the mat ter, and that I am prompted in my vindica tion of lli<.' former, purely from a love of justice. I challenge the writer in the Turf Register to make the same declaration.— I hope that I am wrong, but the whole ten or of the artice referred to, looks to me like an interested attempt to booster the fal 'en fortunes of a powerful horst*, who stands now on the Turf second only to John Bas ci mbe. 'There is where he ought to stand iHILLEDUEVILLE, LiEORGIA, THE USD AY AOVEIHKER I<>, 1636. at tin* present, and there let him remain until fairly promoted. PHILO JUSTICE. \\ henever Post Boy outruns his own aud Baseombe’s time, he may banter with a show el reason. 1 twill not have so much the appearance of a chance game, where there would be a great gain am' little loss. AN EC DOTES O F ~NAtUOLdZoN. In the beginning of his consulate he of ten used to escape from the Tulkries dis guised in a big great coat and a large round hat, so that even the soldiers did not know him, and go early in the morning to Gen. Sebastian's lodgings, awaken him, ami walk arm inarm along the Boulevards. In one of tlic.-e morning walks, Bonaparte wishing to make a handsome present to his b loved Josephine, slop; e l before a large store ot precious curiosities. They found a chambermaid cleaning tl;e store, went in, and asked for the master of the house.— 1 tic servant aiisweied in a dry tone, that there was no master ol the house, looking w itb a suspicious eye upon the tw o intru ders, whom she thought might be a pair of rogues who had entered the store so early, truly with no very favorable exterior, their boots and great coats covered with mud. She ran quickly into a bed-room where iwo young clerks slept, and awakened them in haste, whilst the two strangers looked upon each other and smiled. One of the young men came hastily and half clothed from bis room, aud asked their pleasure. Bonaparte’s eyes fell upon two large and beautiful transparent vases of* an exquisite workmanship, whilst Sebastian spoke with the clerk, who sent immediately lor the mistress ot the store, w hen Bonaparte in his abrupt and peremptory manner, asked the price of these vases—the widow meas ured him from foot to bead and said dryly, * that their price was beyond his reach— ‘This may be, madaine, said Bonaparte irritated, but still in a moderate tone, 'but ■ 1 think it would not cost you much to an swer the question.’ ‘ Ten thousand francs, i sir,’ answered the lady in a dry tone. ‘Well, madaine, is that your Io vest fixed price.’ ' ‘ Yes, sir, I have but one price, as every I one of my customers know.’ ‘Well, ma dame, I think I shall buy them; be so I good as to placethem aside, so that nobody else may take them.' ‘But, sir,’ said the astonished lady, ‘how then? 1 shall say I they are sold, but—but ’ • What hid, madaine ? said Bonoparte, growing warm. —Sebastian gave him a hint, ami said, ‘ Madame is right ; she does not know’ us, and ot course is not to lie blamed for asking at least something by which she might be assured that we were in earnest.’ Ile hand ed her at the same moment a bank note ol one thousand francs. The widow, still ' more astonished, received the note, turned ' and re-turned it, and handed it to the clerk, directing him in a whisper to go toa neigh bor’s and see if it was not a forged one, and then addressing herself to the two Gran gers, said, with the Parisian gracefulness so characteristic of all these female shop- ' keepers—'Gentlemen, 1 ask your pardon; ' you appear to be fine and well-bred gen- ' tiemen, but God knows, since that Corsican has been at the bead of our government we are overrun with rogues and vagabonds, who have even attempted to commit forge- ' ries (which was true) and, therefore, 1 have I sent to my neighbor’s who is an agent dc\ change (a broken) and who understands his business well.’ ‘But how then, madaine, I thought Bonaparte was a good French man,’said the consul, ‘and although born in Corsica, that lie had never ceased to be a Frenchman!’ ‘Yes, yes.’ answered the merchant, smiling, he has been a good Frenchman, because lie was too greatly interested to be otherwise.’ Sebastiani ' saw that Bonapart began to grow warm, and interrupted the loquacious lady by ask ing her ‘what she had now to say of the first consul if he had not crushed anarchy, re-established order, put France in a flour ishing state ?’ ‘Yes, lie tias so well re-es tablished order that we have nowinstead of] laws, bayonets—instead of liberty, slavery, j and a legion of miserable spies, who de nouuce and arrest every one who dares to ' speak against him or his adherents,’ &tc. I This woman was ofan exalted character ! very handsome and bold, and astonished both ny her vehemence and the facility I with which she talked to them. Bonaparte : could not resist interrupting her in saying; j ‘but, madaine, you forget yourself by j touching these very delicate political mat- ■ ters, in which you cannot have the least I concern, being obliged often to deal with the first consul’s fl iends and adherents; and dwe should belong to them, what then, madaine?—would you not fear to be ai rested i' ‘1 fear to be arrested !’ said she, laughing loud ; ‘you, gentlemen, could not denounce a poor widow who has five little children to provide for? No, certainly no, 1 have nothing to fear from you 7 you ap pear to be too honest and good, genthnen to wish to ruin a poor woman because she used with freedom the only gift of God, her tongue, which the usurper lias left her. On leaving the store, Bonaparte told her he would send the money, and for the two vases. In walking out they took a hackney coach, and stopped at a short dis tance from the Tuileries, in the rite d 'I Lchclle. Bonaparte, although not well treated by this spirited lady, was, neverthe -1 less, the first who said that he liked her (rankness, buttbat the deserved aome good lesson for the future. As soon as he arri ved at I ulleries, lie sent Gen. Lasneswith one of his carriages in search of the widow, with a polite invitation to come immediaie ly with him to see the gentlemen who had bought the vases, as they wished to speak with her upon other purchases, and to pay her what they owed. 'The unsuspecting lady seeing a gentleman dad in citizens clothes and an elegant, but plain coach, was soon ready to go, and off theyw’ent at full speed. ()n the road she enquired ve-| ry anxiously after the names of these gen- ther tlosenfry- entr t*arty. 1 ilemen—if he (Lasnesl was their friend, and many otlu r questions w hich Lasnes was expressly prohibited from answering. I But what was her perplexity when she alighted at the great stsircase of the Tuile i ries, aud saw that she Ind to deal with one ofthe generals attnclMd to the consul. She exclaimed at various intervals. ‘Oh, mon dieu, what w ill become as me if these gen tlemen should denounce me to the consul.’ Lasnes who although a very rough soldier was nevertheless humane, and of a good heart, assured her, as will as he could, that not the least harm was intended against her. But what was lisr terror when the first consul’s cabinet opened, and she re cognized in him the stranger to whom she bad spoken so freely. She was readv to faint, and fell upon her knees and wept bit terly, humbly asking pardon. Bonaparte himself was moved, helped her up, led her to a chair, and requested her to be quiet aud composed. These kind words resto red her spirits, and she was ab!e to listen to the following friendly words ‘Madame* you have been a little imprud'tit in speak ing so freely of me to strangers; happily for you these words have not been heard by Fanche or one of his agents, you would not have come off so easily. Let this be a warning to you for the future. Heic is your money, and give this (20,(00 francs) to your children, and say to them, that if the mother is not my friend, I wish at least the children might be !’ It was by such means that he made himself popular. Com pare him now with Louis Phillippe and his popularity. Napoleon was accustomed, says a recent writer, in the London Mirror, to wear a coat of mail under his clothes, and which he Very rarely went without. On his de parture for Belgium, he thought it best to guard against those dangers with which be was threatened, having aL Europe leagued against him, by every means in his power. Hi', accordingly, sent for a clever w orkman and asked him if he thought himself com petent to make a coat ofmail, of such a tex ture that no weapons whatever could pene trate. On the artificer answering in the affirmative, Bonaparte agreed to give him 18,000 francs, the sum asked. On the day I fixed, the man brought his work to the ; palace. Napoleon quickly examined it, and ordered the workman to put it on him- I self. 'The man obejed. Napoleon then took two pistols, saying, 'We shall now | see if this coat ofmail is ol the text' re yon i promised me.’ He fired the first at his breast: the cuirass resisted. ‘Turn round.’ I he man obeyed; the second ball struck his back, and w ith the same result. The poor artificer half dead with fright, thought these trials would be sufficient, hut he was mistaken in his calculation. Bonaparte next armed himself with a long fowling piece, and imide the same experiment on the shoulders, back, and breast of the poor trembling patient. Happily the cuirass resisted, and saved the inventor from so cruel a trial. ‘How much am 1 to pay you,’ said Napoleon, ‘alter this noble ex ploit ?’ ‘ Eighteen thou sand francs,” stamim r'd out the frightened artificer, al most deprived of his senses.—‘No such thing, sir,’ replied Napoleon, ‘ I shall give you thirty-six thousand ;’ and gave an or der on Ins treasurer for that amount. Napoleon, in his campaign against Prus sia, having found al Potsdam the sword of Frederick the Great, the belt which this i monarch wore during the seven years’' war, and the grand insiguas of his orders, exclaimed, on taking possession of these trophies, ‘I prefer them to all the treasuries ofthe King of Prussia; I will send them to my veterans of the campaigns of Hano ver: the governor of the Invalides will guard them as a certificate of the victories ol the grand army, and of the revenge which was taken for the disasters at Ros huch.” Among the other costly relics belonging to one of the richest convents in Valladolid, there was a brick ol massive gold, of near ly one foot in length by an inch thick, which contained a thorn, said to be from the crown which Christ wore on the cross. It was presented to Napoleon by one of his generals, and he received it; but, Ic king out the thorn, ‘'There,’ said he, ‘ give that back to the monks—l keep the brick.’ THE ROMANTIC GIRL. Miss Martha Hunter or as she choose to be called, Kate was a romantic girl. 1 had known l.er amidst society. 1 had seen her when a train of admirers, bowed to the shrine of her beauty. Every thing in her persi nal appearance va; exqu.s.lely hand some, her every maen r fascinating. It was sometimns even said of her, that she had “Grace in every stop--Ileav, u in her eye— In every gesture, uiguityami love.’’ But what mostly pleased my young gen ius was, that Kale was a roinauiic girl. Her lather lives on the bank of Hiwas see river, in the midst of the most danger ous aud warlike part ofthe Cherokee Indi ans. Once a solitary spot—(save that ev ery member of the Col’s, family were a host within themselves—(but now iiow changed, and which change, is the occasion of my siory.) Kate was surrounded by a niagni iicient mountaneotts country. She was daily accustomed to loo|> on one ofthe most invitinglaiidscapes—the most grand water tails, aud woodland wild flowers, of which the most bew itching variety ; all v. hich per haps contributed to her romantic disposi tion. Still we have sometime thought that she sought lop the sweets of society, llenc. perhaps, her hearty welcome of her visit ors, led hither by the story pf her paarms; hence her willingness to cqiiducl him t< tue most romantic situations, of this most romantic country—the perpendicular aim rugged dills, denominated by her, the Io ver’s leap, as being one of the most lilting places, to determine the existence of one. who has become inconsolable from being i crossed, in this strongest of .al) huim q pas ious. I am going to tell you reader, of my vis it to her lather’s, in the summer of 1830. My road lay over the towering mountains ofthe Blue Ridge. As is so common in this country, I travelled through a drench ing rain. J Jul what of the inclemency of iheckments ? It was wholly disregarded. I was visiting the house of my old friend ; with feverished anxiety too —for I had heard ofthe mountain health and agility of Kate, had been changed into a destroying fever; and perhaps even then, she whom I had last seen, so gay, was struggling with the grim monster, who spares neither youth nor beauty. Within ten miles of the place, I was met by three men dressed, in the American u niforni. Their tale was soon told. They were soldiers stationed at Camp Hunting ton, under the command of Gen. W. ■■ I. It needed only for them to know that my destitiatii n was thither, and they readily be came my escort. Here reader my story commences. In front of the large family mansion, which two months before had pre senteil a picture of solitude—a hermitage fora family, who could not have found en joyment, save in their intellectual endow ments-lay the “Soldiers tented field.” A busy camp. Six hundred horsemen in full parade. The hoarse voice of officers, drill ing them in the different evolutions of mod ern tactics. But why stop to describe a military parade; or why attempt to give you my reductions at the change. The hermitage had become the soldier’s tent.— I was i i trout ofthe mansion of Col. Hun t r. I was i» the beautiful How er garden of the romantic Kale. But 1 met her mH there. There freshly grew the thousand .plants ol her collection, in every bed of tulips, and in the weaving of the rose and other vines around 'he summer houses, you might see the work of her gentle hand.— But in one corner stood the head quarters id the commanding General, ami through the walks paraded the proud orderly and o ther sentinels. The private family man sion seemed to he converted into a fort.— Yes ; for through it moved the richly uui iornicd officers of the United Stales Army, in the parlour nor at the piano, did I see the lovely Kate. She was laid of a fever under the care ol the Surgeon General oil the Army. One or two faces only I recognized.— 1 hey bote no command. They were not oi our people, I had known them as mem bers of the church—as missionaries ofthe alter, as interpreters between the ministers ol God and the Cherokees. From their manly bearing 1 would have supposed that, in the s niiuels language, “a/Z is ii'cll." — But mH so. 1 conversed with them as in days of yore. I learned that they were prisoners. “Great God thought I, “and Inis it come to this ?’ Aud w here is your mis sionarics r” I enquired. “Your minister ?” “The commander has thought it best to re move him from the country.” 1 lorebore an’ expression of opinion. 1 knew that the crisis had arrived when the Cherokees must be removed, 1 heard the arguments, the cogent and inc powerful ar guments of Judge 11 g, the head of he Indian bureau, with the stubborn Cher okee. The propriety, the advantages, the necessity, of his people going from among the whites. 1 saw that no one conclusion obtained even the silent assent of the sul len Cherokee. “Ah sir!” said he necessi ty leaves us n • choice; your government leavesit not with us to determine. An ex position of the General’s course convinced me of the necessity, and entire propriety of the measure. The Cherokees bad been called on to give their assent, to the treaty made by their Chiefs, with the United Stales Goverment. lis justice the v would not acknowledge; its terms 'hey sullenly refused to accept. Their council with the General, they had dissol ved in disorder. Some had in consequence been made prisoners, An order had been issued that all should surrender their arms to the commander. And now reader, comes the affecting part of my st»ry. I saw approaching tfie Genera’ls quarters a white flag borce by an aged Cherokee chief, his silvery locks atid furrowed copper cheeks, plainly denoted that he had seen theday when his people were more power ful—when no order from the “pale face” c nld enforce obedience on their part, lu his eye still gleamed the same unsubdued spirit. But every other feature was evi dently cowered. His very step seemed to mourn over a mighty people fallen. His ling was unfurled from a native oaken sap nling ofhis forest. The tipper end bend i ig, s nnewliat the firm ofabow, as ifindi ciiing the brokin spirit ofhis people. But w hat a spectacle followed ! Fifty of his ribe came up after him, in single file, their uaial procession They followed, the one st aigl.t afu r another. Their exes bent to t te ground ; they seemed not observe the p trading se ititiels, nor the anxious specta t rs. Bm they carried w ith them other dis tinctive marks of inoin ning. They marched wit i “arms reversed.” The 11.ig being planted over the Gener al’s quarters, they al| proceeded without a word to surrender to him their arms. Thev wou'd obey the order yrliichdeprived them of the means of killing game; their yery sui sistence, in sullen silence. And as sul lenly would they have departed. (A tear had ihhv gathered into my own eye, w hich leeched me into t)ie belief, that 1 saw it in Tiie humane General had yet something to offer them in exchange for their gnus. It w s an oiler oased, upon the very princi ples of the treaiy, which had forced this ncce!sitv. 'That w illing or utiwilling, thev would give them tha which is better, ‘•True,’’ said, “the Government has made it my duty to enforce the treaty. Some ofyotire people have manifested a hostile di-position, it is therefore pcces sary, that I should dep.tjye you of your arms, least in a mad moment, you might be seduced tv strike a blow, yyhiclj would be the destruction of your people. If you remain peaceable, they will shorty be re stored. Here is ten thousand rations in de pot. Meat, Corn, Tobacco. Accept them in lieu for your guns. The Government gives them in terms of the treaty.” “My people have plenty—they need them not—they will go away w lien the go vernment say so—but they want not the governments provisions,” said the chief and they marched away. “They are the Chrowse Indians,”* ex claimed a s veet and well known voice from the sick room of Kate. The truth of a secret flashed across my mind. 1 approached and felt the flag. It was ofthe finest lawn. It was emhroided with most elegant taste. Kate is a romantic girl even in sickness, thought I. Her hand has been, unseen, in this thrilling display. The officers knew it not. Let it pass. She is a Romantic Girl. •One ofthe Cherokee Townships. SHARK FIGHT. The following curious description of a “Shark Fight,” in the vicinity of Calcut ta, is extremely interesting. It is related by an eye witness, and is entitled to perfect credence: “1 chanced Io be on the spot, when this display of coolness and courage took place: and had 1 not witnessed it, 1 confess 1 should have been sceptical in be lieving what, nevertheles is plain matter of fact. 1 was walking on the bank of the ri ver, when some up country boats were de livering their cargoes. A considerable number of Coolies, were employed on shore in the work, all of whom 1 observed run ning in the apparent trepidation, from the edge of the w ater —returnig as if eager, yet afraid, to approach some object, and re tie t ug 1 hastened to the spot to ascertain the matter, when I preceived a huge monster of a shark, sailing along now near the surface of ihe w ater, and now sink ing down apparently in pursuit of bis prey. At this moment a native, on thy Cboppah roof of one ofthe boats, with a rope in his hand w hich he was slowly coiling tip, sur veyed the sharks motions, with a look that evidently indicated that he had a serious intention of encountering him in his ow n element. Holding the rope, on wli'wli lie made a sort of running knot, in one hand, and stretching out the other arm, as if al ready in the act of swimming, he stood in an attitude truly picturesque, waiting the n-appearance of the shark. At about six oi eight yards from the boat, the animal rose near the surface, when the native in stantly plunged into the vater, a short dis tance from the very jaws ofthe monster. The shark immediately turned round and swam slowly towards the man, who in his turn nothing daunted, struck out the i.rm that was nt litirrty, and approached bis foe. When within a loot or two of the shark, the native dived beneath him, the animal g-iing down almost at the same in stant. The bold assailant in this most fright lid contest soon r»appeared on the opposite side of the shark, swimming fearlessly with the hand at liberty, and holding the rope behind his back with the oilier. The shark which had also by this lime made his ap pearance, again immediately swam towards him, and while the animal was apparently in the act of lifting himself over the low er part ofthe native’s body that he might seize upon liis prey, the man making a strong effort, tlnew himself tq perpcmliculaily, and went down with his feet foremost, the shark followed simultaneously that 1 was fully im pressed with (he idea that they had gone down grappling together. As iaras I could judge they remained nearly twenty seconds out of sight, while 1 stood in breathless anx iety, and 1 may add horror, waiting the re sult of this fearful encounter. Suddenly the native imide his appearance holding up both his hands over his head, and calling out with a voice that proclaimed the victory he had won while underneath th<? wave, “lan—tan!” The people in the boat were all prepared : the rope was instantly drawn tight, and the struggling victiiu, lashing she water in his wrath, was dragged to the shore and despatched. When measured l;is length was found to be six feet nine inches: his girth at the greatest three feet seven inches. The na tive who achieved this intrepid and dexter ous exploit, bore no other m«rks id his fin ny enemy than a cut on the left arm, evi dently received from coming in coptact with the tail, or some of tl;e fins ofthe an imal. It did not occur to me to ask if this was the first shark fight in which he had been engaged; but from the preparations aud the ready assistance he receive I from his companions tn the boats I should sup pose he has more (han once displayed the same courage and dexterity which so much astonished me. The scene was altogether one 1 shall never forget. The nejghbor iiopd of the combatants to the shore, for they were only a few yards from it; ena bled me to see what I have attempted to de scribe, to the greatest advantage. WIFE LOST. Scene on a Steamboat—An actual oc currence. ‘‘Which is tl:e (captain of'this boat ?” in quired a tall athletic man, as he came up from the gentleman’s < abin with gr< at pre cipitancy. “That gentleinan yonder,” spill a by stander. “Are you the captain, sir?” “Yes, sir.” “Where is my xyife ?” “Indeed 1 don’t know, sir—l have not seen her, licit 1 know.” “Now ctipttiiii this i.< too bad. I come on board this boat last and paid you six dollars passage |i>r myself and wife— and 1 should like to know wheie my wife has been put.” “Have you beta in the ladjes cabin ?” “Yes—but slip is not-tliere.” ; I'IKLIStJI ft BY p. l. l<tOltlA»<>fV A IIOLE NO. “Shall I have the pleasure of the lai y S name, sir?” “Mrs, Mirah Smilh, the wife of Jerome V. Smith, your humble servant.” “Mary, (to the chambermaid) is Mirah Smith in the ladies’ ettbin r” “No, sir—l’ve enquired, and she is po( there.” “There —I told you so,” said Air Smith in much uneasiness. “Captain,” spid a wag standing by, (sup pose John should ring the bell all through the boat, and say —Mrs A)ira(> Smith, who came on board last night, cannot be found.” “Thai’s a good idea,* echoed a hundred voices a| once, So J hn—a cream colored [ucon, with an eye like lago’s—set his bell a going cry. ing aloud at every interim—“ Lost Mis, Mirah Smith. Any person who knows where she is, will please hapd her up to tins captain’s Office, for the benefit of her dis consolate husband.’ John baw led through the boat, some what to the amusement of tjie passengers and finally reached the upper deck, when in passing the slate rooms in a sort of des peration for his want of success, he raised his voice to the stentorian pitch pf a Ki;m 'J IIF BOOK AGENT.” As the sun was setting after one of lhp»e hot dry and sultry days in July, when the thermometer rose to 90, a tall lantern jawed, gamble shank’ fellow entered the xillagts in theokl cqinmonwcahli of Massa chusetts. He was dressed in the pccplinp custom of a yankee backwoodsman—hav ing on his head a squirre. skin cap, aud pn his feel a pair <>( doubled soled cow-hide boots, which would laugh out of counte nance a Kamschaikian winter. Op his arm was carefully folded a |jutter-nut color-J ed frock coat and in bis hand was an extra shirt and dickey, tied up in a cotton hand kerchief. On liis entrance into the village he inquired sos the clergyman, and on be ing told wherp he might be found, started posthaste for his residence. Arriving at his house, be found him enjoying the cup] ofthe twilight in his garden.* Stepping the fence lie inquired if the Rev. Mr.— :iv<d in the m-igbborhood? The clergy man told him that he did, and that be was the individual to whom he alluded. '1 ain dreadful deaf,’ said the fellow; you must raise your voice, iq: 1 can’t Im ar a word you say.’ The clergyman pm l.js lips to his ear, ami repeated the dechirmimt that he was the person fin whom he enqui red, and asked liim the object pf his call 'Tis bin an awful hot day,’ said the Irajel ler,’ but it grows a little cooler as thp sun goes dow n.’ The clergymai) again enqui red liis business at the tqp ofhis lungs. thank you a thousand times’ said the stranger. ‘J reckoned to have got tn the tavern by jundown, but I hav’nt, and as I’m prodigjously tuckered out, I'll stay, aud thank ye into the bargain,’ f< {lowing the clergyman in the house. The clergy? man handed him a chair, qud after lay jug dow n his coat in a corner of the room jnid fanning himself awhile with his cap, !.« took his seat. The clergyman, in a loud voice asked him to what part of the comi (ry he was travelling? ‘Any thing that comes handy,’ lie replied ‘l’ ln a former when at home, and not mut.li used to nick nacks- I can eat any thing hut cold pprk aud cabbage, and that | nevgr could rat, since I Was a boy—but don’t pm yourselves out ol the way at all about supper.’ The clergyman inquired agqjin if l Jtt was fronj Vermont. ‘ I’m getting subscribers,’ fora lahiablp book; it is the works of John Bunyan or Jonathan Bimyaii,—l don’t remember cx 3 actly which ; but J’d see,’ pulling out h’is prospectus and handing it tp the clergy man. Ihe clergyman, after looking at it, handed it back, and remarked that he did mH wish to subscribe. ‘Q yes,’ lie re plied, many folks don’t keep such thing? iy their houses,’ pulling out jiis pen and ink and offering it to the clergyman, '{'he clergyman raised his voice to the hignrjt key, and said he must be excused from sub scribing. ‘Justus well,’ said tjie agent, 'I w rite the natnes of half my subscribers myself,’entering the tiame of the clergy man in bis book. The clergyman, despairing of making the fellow hear any thing, concluded t»> get rid of l|it» the easiest way he could. He therefore furnished him with a good supper and bed. Ju the morning told him, in as loud a voice as he >vas master of, that he did not want the wink; and should not take it. ‘Don’t give yourself any un easiness about it,’ said the agent. ‘1 never forget subscribers, and especially ministers —you shall have it in due time. Thanking him for his kindness hud hospitalitv, and bidding him good morning,, lie trudged off as last as his legs could can v him. About a moiitli after, at the ministry tq aneighboiiiig town, he was i« a little surprised to tni el his old guest, the deaf b>ok agcqt. He was dressed much in s ime manner as before ; but was seated py a box, the forepart oi a one horse wagop, draw n by a horse that would require stall feeding to make much of’a show. Com ing up with him, be jumped out ofhis MRigon,shook him cordially by the hand, aud said he was going directly tp his house with his books. Tlie clergyman said lie must be excused from them, as |ie had a set already pn hand. ‘No matte? said the agent,’ '1 am going right by your house, and can leave the books ami take the mer ney o! your wife, ‘he getting hj® W!, g”P and dtivingofl. The clergyman, fearigg his family might lake the books in bis ab sence, put about for home, anil arrives) just as the agent was driving up. Seeing the clergyman had returned lie said fyot| came back for fear of fain, I‘spose: ant) it does look us though we were going ", have a long storm, taking the bopjis frtww his box and carrying them into (It? bottfi The clergyman told him qs loud as h