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TOL. I—NO. 8. THE TI)Ii:s asjj) ujaaiaa’a <N2W3>3&'ffa a WILL be published once a week, in the Town of Milledge. eillt. at THREE DOLLARS per annum, if paid in advance, or JOUR DOLLARS, at the end of the year. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates: those sent without a specified number of insertions, will be pub ished until ordered out and charged accordingly. Sales of Land, by Administrators, Ex unitors, or Guardians, are re quired, by law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month 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. Sales of negroes must be at public auction, on the first Tuesday of the month, between the usual hours of sale, at the place oY public sales in the county where the letters Testamentary, of Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, first givimr sixty days notice thereof, in one of the public gazettes #f tin* State, and at the door of the court-house, where such sales are to be held. Notice for the sale of Personal Pro perty must be given in like mann , orty days previous to the day of sale. Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published for fortydays. Notice that appli- ■ «ation will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to I sell Land, must be published four months. Notice for leave , tn sell Negroes, must be published for four months, before' any order absolute shall be made thereon by the Court. j AN ACT rl provido for the call of a Convention to reduce the num ber es the General Assembly ol the State of Georgia, and for other purposes therein named. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the State of Georgia in General Assembly met, and it is hereby enacted by the authority of the same. That the first Monday in April, eighteen hundred andthirty-three.be, and the same is hereby designated and set apart as the day on which the citizens of Georgia qualified to vote for members of the Leg. shall at the several places prescribed bylaw for holding such elections vote for delegates to represent them in Convention, in number equal to their representation in both branches of the General Assembly; such elections to he con ducted, managed and certified under the same laws as are of force in respect to elections of the General Assembly. Sue. 2. And be it further enacted, That it shall be the du ty of such managers to transmit to bis Excellency the Go vernor the result of said electioi.s under the laws now of force for conducting, managing and certifying elections for mem bers of the General Assembly as aforesaid, within thirty days after such elections —Whereupon it is made the duty of 11 is Excellency the Governor to issue his proclamation declaring the result of said elections by naming the individuals several ly elected lorepresenttlie good people of Georgia in Conven tion as contemplated by this act. Sec. 3. And be it further enacted, That every citizen of the United States shall be eligible to a seat in said Conven- Smi who has attained the age of twenty-five years, and been an inhabitant of this State seven years immediately preceding the day of his election, and who shall have resided one year In the county for which he shall have been elected. Sec. 4. And be it further enacted, Teat each member re tarded as duly elected, shall previous to taking bis seat in said Convention, take the following oath, or affirmation, viz : I, A. B. do solemnly swear, that I will not attempt to add to, or take from the constitution or attempt to change or alter any ■other section, clause, or article of the constitution of the Slate of Georgia, other than those touching the representa tion in the General Assembly thereof; and that I have been aalizen of this state for the l.istseven years, so help me God. And any person elected to a seat in said Convention, who shall refuse to take the oath aforesaid, shall not be allowed to take a scat in said Convention. Sec. 5. And be it further enacted, That the members of said Convention shall assemble on the first Monday in May after their election, at Milledgeville, in the Representative Chamberof the State House,for the purpose of entering upon and consummating the great objects of their convention, to wit: a reduction & equalization of the General Assembly; shall have power to prescribe their own rules and firms of busi ness, and determine on thequalifications of their own mem bers; elect necessary officers, and make all orders which they may deem conducive to the furtherance of the object for which such Convention shall assemble. Sec. C. And be it further enacted, That it shall be the du ly of His Excellency the Governor to give publicity to the alterations and amendments made in the Constitution in ref erence to the direction [reduction] of the number of the mem bers composing the General Assembly, and the first .Monday iit October next, after the rising of said Convention, he shall fix on for the ratification, by the people, of such amendments, alterations, or new articles as they may make for the objects of reduction and equalization of the General Assembly only : and if ratified by a majority of the voters who vote on the ques tion of “Ratification” or “No Ratification,” then and in that event, the alterations so by them made and ratified, be binding on the people of this .State and not otherwise. Sec. 7. And he it further enacted. That it shall he a fun damental crude in the formation or amendment of the consti tution, that each county o‘ the Slate now organized or laid out, or which may hereafter be created by law, shall he enti tled toat least one representative in the representative branch of the General Assembly. Sec. 8. And be it further enacted, That so soon as this act shall]have become a law, His Excellency the Governor, be, and he is hereby required to cause it to be published in the Gazettes of this State, once a week until the day fixed on by this act for the election of delegates to said Convention; and that all laws and parts of laws militating agi inst this act, be, and the same are hereby repealed. ASDURY HULL, Speaker of the House of Representatives. THOMAS STOCKS, President of the Senate Assented to, December 24, 1832. WILSON LUMPKIN, Governor. January 15—1 ADMINISTRATORS SALE. A GREEABL E to an order of the honorable Inferior Court! of Harris county, while sitting as a Court of Ordinary, i "ill be sold on the first Tuesday in March next at the Court j House in llurkc county, the following Tracts of Land, hc lunging to the estate of Littleberry Marsh, dee. 800 acres oil land more or less, well improved, adjoining Skinner and oth ers,one other tract containg 17 acres mote or less, ad joining Skinner and others, one tract containing 30 acres, adjoining tb» heirs of Martin, also, one-fourth of an undivided tract, containing9o acres,adjoining Marshall and others; all ofthp above tracts lying in the county of Ilurke. Also will he sold on the first Tuesday in April next at the Court House in Morgan county, lot No. 219 in the 4th district originally Haiti win, n OW Morgan county —on the first Tuesday in May j'ext, will be sold at the Court House in Campbell county, j bjtNo. 169, in the 9th district of originally Payette, now Campbell county. All of the above sold as the property of Littleberry Marsh, deceased, for the benefit of tbe heirs o said Littleberry Marsh. Jerms of sale made known on the day of sale. JOHN MUKPHEY, Adtn’r. ELIZABETH M. MARSH, Admr’x D*c. 14,1832. 39—tds-p ui -A tlf ’ 3-A Hi -tl -Ad jJ a) » THE SUBSCRIBER having a very large as sortment of fine Dress Coats now on band, w ill sell tbem a very reduced prices. A. C. VAIL. February 12 5. ts l*o*T OFFICE, VlllledKcvlllo, Millkdguvillk, January 27, |8:(2. CIIIANG Kin Mail Arrangement. From and alter ' litis date the Northern Mail is due every <l ;| y al ISP. ||, Close's at W, Southern or Alabama Mail, due every dav at IIJ I* M. Close* at 4 I*. M. THOMAS F. GIIEF.N, I’. M. ms vims ANS3 HT.ITE I'HGHT’S ADVOCATE. PRINTED \\D PUBLISHED BY lAHBADI HE J. SLADE, AT THREE DOLLARS PER ANNIVI. MTERAKr, JOURNAL OF CONVERSATIONS WITH IORO BYRON, BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSIkmv 1- kom this period we saw Lord Byron frequently; he met us in our rides nearly everv .lay, and the rode lo Nervi became our favorite promenade. While ridirm by the sea-shore, he often recurred to the events of his ! life, mingling sarcasms on himself with hitter pleasant ries against others. Ile dined often with us, and some-1 times carnc after dinner, as he complained that lie suffered i from indulging at our repasts, as animal food disa<M-cecd i with him. _ He added, that even the excitement of soci- 1 cty, though agreeable and exhilarating at the time left a nervous irritation, that |>rcventcd sleep or occupation lor many hours afterwards. I once spoke to him,by the desire of his medical adviser - on the necessity oi his accustoming himself to a more mi-’ i tntious regimen; but he declared, that if he did, he j should get fat and stupid, and that it was only bv abstU i nence that lie felt he had the power of exercising his! mmd. lie complained of being sailed for society, bv having so long lived out of it; and sad, that though' nat-] ura Hy of a quick apprehension, he latterly feit himself i dull and stupid. The impression left on my mind is > that Byron never could have been a brilliant person in’ i society, and that lie was not formed for what generally i is understood by that term, he has none of the ‘small] change’ that passes current in the mart of society; his 1 gold is in ingots, and cannot be brought into use for’ tri- j (ling expenditures; he, however, talks a good deal, and! likes to raconfcr. Talking of people who were groat talkers, lie observ ed that almost all clover people were such, and gave sev-1 oral examples: amongst others, he cited Voltaire, flor-! ace Walpole, Johnson, Napoleon Bo;,*parte, and*Mad-j arne dc Stael. ‘But,’ said he, ‘my friend, Lady . I would have talked them all out of the field. She, I sup’ j pose, has heard that all clever people are great talkers I and so has determined on displaying, at least, one attri- i butcofthat genus; but her Ladyship would do well to | recollect that all great talkers are not clever people a truism that no one can doubt who has been often in her society.’ ‘Lady ,’ continued Byron, ‘with beaucovpde rid icule, lias many essentially fine qualities; ve is indepen dent in her principles—though, by the bye, like all In- j dependents, she allows that privilege to few others, be- j ing the veriest tyrant that ever governed Fashion’s fools,! who are compelled to shake their caps and bells as she j wills it. Os all that coterie,’said Byron, ‘Madame del thought so, for these two Ladies were the only ones who | ventured to protect me when all London was crying out against mo on the separation, and they behaved coura geously; indeed Madame de , defended me when few dared to do so, and 1 have always remembered it. Poor dear Lady —! does she still retain her beau tiful cream-colored complexion and raven hair? I used I to long to tell her she spoiled her looks by her exces sive animation; for eyes, tongue, head, and arms were all in movement at once, and were only relieved from their active service by want of respiration- I shall nev er forget when she once complained to me of the fatio-uc of literary occupations; and I, in terror, expected her Ladyship to propose reading to mo an epic poem, trag edy, or at least a novel of her composition, when, lo! she displayed to me a veiy richly-bound Album, half filled with printed extracts cut out of newspapers and maga zines, which she had selected and pasted in the book ; and I (happy at being let off so easily) sincerely agreed ! with her that literature was very tiresome. I under-1 stand that she lias now advanced with the ‘March of In-! tellect,’ and got an Album filled with MS. poetry, to | which all of us, of the craft, have contributed. I was j the first; Moore wrote something, which was, like all j that he writes, very sparkling and terse; but lie got dis-! satisfied with the faint praise it met with from the bus- j band, before Miladi saw the verses, and destroyed the effusion; 1 know not if lie ever has supplied their place. I Can you fancy Moore paying attention to the opinion oft Milor, on porsy? Had it been on racing or horse flesh 1 lie might have been right; but Pegasus is, perhaps, the j only horse of whose paces Lord , could not be a j ! judge.’ Talking of fashionable life in London, Lord Byron ! said that there was nothing so vapid and eunpyeuz. ‘The ! English,’ said be, ‘were intended by nature to be good, i sober-minded people, and those who live in the country arc really admirable. I saw a good deal of English country life, and it is the only favorable impression that remains of our mode of living; but of London, and ex elusive society, ' retain a fearful recollection. Dissipa tion lias need of wit, talent, and gaiety, to prevent refiec. lion, and make the eternal round of frivolous amuse ments pass; and of these,’ continued Byron, ‘there was a terrible lack in the society in which I mixed. The minds lof the English are formed of sterner stuff You tnav make an English woman (indeed Nature docs this) the i best daughter, wife, and mother in the world ; nay, you tnav make her a heroine; but nothing can make her a \ genuine woman of fashion! And yet this latter role is the J one which, par preference, she always wishes to act. j Thorough-bred English gentlewomen,’ said Bvron, ‘are the most distinguished and la.ly-like creatures imagina- j ble. Natural, mild, and dignified, they are formed to be j placed at the beads of our pati ician establishments; but j when they quit-their congenial spheres to enact the leaders of fashion, lesdamesa la mode, they bungle sad ly. Their gaiety degenerates into levity—their hau teur into incivility—their fashionable ease and noncha lance into lirusquerie—and their attempts at assuming! less usages <lu monde into a |>ositive outrage on all the bienseanccs. in short, they offer a coarse caricature of the airv flightiness and capricious, but amusing, legc rctc of the French, withoutiinv of their redeeming espie ; glcrie and politease. And all this because they will per | form parts in the comedy of life for which nature has not formed them, neglecting their own dignified cliarac ■ ters.’ ‘Madame de Stael,’ continued I-nrd Boron, ‘was forci bly struck by the factitious tone of the best society in London, ami wished very much to have an opportunity of judging of that of the second class. She, however, had not this opportunity, which I regret, as 1 think it would have justified her expectations. In England, the raw material is generally good; it is the over-dressing that injures it; and as the class she wished to study are well educated, and have all tho refinement of civiliza tion without its corruption, she would have carried away a favorable inipiession. Lord Grey and his family were the personification of her beau ideal of perfection, as i must say they are of mine,’continued Byron, ‘and might j serve as the finest specimen* of the pure English patri cian breed,of which so few remain. His iincompromis , ing and unconiprotiiisc.) dignity, founded on self-respect, arid accompanied by that certain proof of superiority— simplicity of manner ami frc< d<*tn from u licet at ion, with “Ws srvxa dzspaik of m thinu— Turrit MUR aim snd, we HUU sail C9MB in auspices."— 1 i< i. ,■ *. MILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA, MARCH 6, 1833. ; her mild and matron graces, her whole life offering a model to wives and mothers—really they are people to be proud of, and a few such would reconcile one to one’s : species.’ ! One of our first rides with Lord Byron was to Nervi, j a t illage on the sea-roast, most romantically situated, and each turn of the road presenting various and beauli | ful prospects. They were all familiar to him, and he fail' and not to point them out, but in very sober terms, nei- j I or allowing anything like enthusiasm in his expressions, \ | though many of the views might have ereited it. His appearance on horseback was not advantageous, i | and beseemed aware of it, for lie made many excuses for his dress and equestrian appointments, ilis horse ■ was literally covered with various trappings, in the way ofeavesons, martingales, and Heaven knows how many j other (to me) unknown inventions. The saddle was a; la Hussarde with holsters, in which he always carried i ; |>isto!s. Ilis dross consisted of a nankeen jacket ami trowsers, which appeared to have shrunk from washing;! the jacket embroidered in the same color, and with three rows of buttons; the waist very short, the hack very nar rew, and the sleeves set in as they used to be ten or lif- j teen years before; a black stock, very narrow, a dark blue velvet cap with a shade, and a very rich gold band and large gold tassel at the crown; nankeen gaiters, and a pair ol blue spectacles, completed his costume, which i was anything but becoming. This was his general 1 dress of a morning for riding, but 1 have seen it chaug-! ed for a green tartan plaid jacket, lie did not ride well,! winch surprised us, as, from tho frequent allusions to horsemanship in liis works, we expected to find him al most a Nimrod. It was evident that lie had jiretensions j on this point, though he certainly was what 1 should cui! a timid rider. When his horse made a false step which I was not unfrequeut, he seemed discomposed; ami when j we came to any bad part of the road, lie immediately ■ checked his course and walked his liotse very slowly, ■ though there really was nothing to make even a ladv ■ nervous. Finding that l could perfectly manage (or ! what lie called bully) a very highly-dressed horse that t daily rode, he became extremely anxious to buy it ; asked me a thousand questions as to how I had acquired such a perfect ronimaiid of it, &c. &c., and entreated, as the greatest favor, that 1 would resign it to him as a charger to take to Greece, declaring lie never would j part with it, Ate. As I was bv no means a bold rider, wc were rather amused at observing Lord Byron’s opin ion of my courage; and a3 he seetne I so anxious for the horse, 1 agreed to let him have it when he was to em bark. From this time he paid particular attention to the movements of |>oor Mameluke (the name of the ! horse ) =>"<l said he should now fee! confidence in action with so steady a charger. During our ride the conversation turned on our tnu-j tual friends and acquaintances in England. Talk;. 9s of j two of them, for one of whom he professed a great rc-. gard, he declared laughingly that they had saved him j from stiiside. Seeing me look grave, he added, 'lt is a ; fact, I assure you, 1 should positively have destroyed myself, hut I guessed that , or , would ] write my life, and with this fear before my eyes, I have lived oil. I know so well the sort of tilings they would write of me—the excuses, lame as myself, that they ! would offer for my delinquenccs, while they were un- j necessarily exposing them, and all this done with the ’ avowed intention of justifying, what, God help me! can-1 not be justified, iny unpoetical reputation, with which | tile world can have nothing to do! One of my friends | would dip his pen in clarified honey, and the other in ! vinegar, to describe my manifold transgressions, and as! I lived on, and do not wish my poor fame to be either j preserved or pickled, i have written my .Memoirs, where facts will speak for themselves, without the editorial ’ candor of excuses, sucli as ‘we cannot cxcq- e tins un happy error, or defend that impropriety;’—the mode,’ continued Byron, ‘in which frleqds exalt their oun pru dence and virtue, by exhibiting the want of those quali ! ties in the dear departed, and by marking their disap- j proval of his errors. I have written my Memoirs,’said Bvron, ‘to save the necessity oftheir being written by a friend or friends, and have only to hope they will not add I ! notes.’ I remarked with a smile, that at all events ho antici i pated his friends by saying before hand as many illua \ tured things of them as they could possibly write ofliim. lie laughed, and said, ‘Depend on it we are equal. Po ! ets, (and I may, 1 suppose, without presumption, count I myself among that favored race, as it lias please 1 tiie j Fates to make me one,) have no friends. On the old j princi|>le, that ‘union gives force,’ we sometimes agree :to have a violent friendship for each other. We detli ! cate, wc bepraise, we write pretty letters, but we do | not deceive each other. 1 1 shoit, we resemble you j fair ladies, when some half dozen of the fairest of your I jiiofess to love each other mightily, correspond so sweet | ly, call each other by such pretty epithets, and laugh in | your hearts at those who are taken in by such appoaran i ces.’ I endeavored to defend my sex, but he adhered to his opinion. I ought to add that during this conver sation he was very gay, and that though his words may appear severe, there was no severity in his manner. The natural flippancy of Lord Byron took , off all appearance of premeditation or bitterness ! from Ilis remarks, even when they were acrimonious, j and the impression conveyed to, and left on my mind i was, that for the most part they were uttered more in | jest than in earnest. They were, iiowcv, r, sufficiently j severe to make me feci that there was no safety with i hitn, and that in five minutes after one’s quitting him on terms of friendship, he could not resist the temptation 1 of showing one up, either in conversation or by letter, though in half an hour after lie would put himself to personal inconvenience to render a kindness to the per son so shown tip. I remarked that in talking of literary productions, lie seemed much more susceptible to their defects, than alive to their beauties. Asa proof, he never failed to remember some quotation that told against the unhappy author, which ho recited with emphasis, or a mock-hero ic air, that made it very ludicrous. ’Flic pathetic he al-1 ways burlesqued in reciting; hut this 1 am sure • rocced-1 ed from an affectation of not sympathizing with the gen eral taste. A/tril —. Lord Byron dined with usto-day. During! dinner lie was as usual gay, spoke in tennsof the warm- 1 est commendation of Sir Walter Scott, not only as an : author, but as a man, and dwelt with apparent delight i on his novels, declaring that lie had rend and re-read j them over and over again, and always with increased , pleasure. Ho said that he quite equalled, nav, in lii | opinion, surpassed Curyantcs. In talking of Fir Walt er’s private character, goodness of heail, Ac., laird n_V rtm became more nnimsli and than I bail ever act 11 bun; bis I color changed from its general pallid tint to an ore live-1 I ly line, and hi* eyr» became humid; never Imi he ap peared to such adiantag.', and it might easil; be tc r o that every expression he uttered proceeded from his heart. Poor Byron!—for poor lie is even with all liisgc* j "' us > rank, and wealth—had he lived more with men like Scott, whose openness of character and steady prin ciple had convinced him that they wt re in earnest in their goodness, and not making believe, (as he always suspects good people to lie,) his life might be different and happier! Byron is so acute an observer that noth ! '“S canapes him; all the shades of selfishness and vani ty are exposed lo his searching glance, and the misfor -1 tune is, (and a serious one it is to him,) that when he | ■ fint-L these, and alas!they are to he found on every side,] they disgust and prevent his giving credit to the many good qualities that often accompany them, lie declares ] tic can sooner pardon crimes, because they proceed from tile passions, than these minor vices, that spring from egotism and sr If-conceit. We had a long argument this ' evening on the subject, which ended, like most argu-! ments, by leaving both of the same opinion as w hen it ] commenced. 1 endeavored to prove that crimes were - not only injurious to the perpi trators, hut often minne to the innocent, and productive of misery to friends and ] relations, whereas selfishness and vanity carried with them t!i ir ow n punishment, tlie firr.t depriving tlic per son of ail sympathy, and the second exposing him to rid- 1 icule, which to the,vain is a heavy punishment, hut that their effects were no! destructive to society as are crimes.! He laughed when 1 told him that having heard him so ! often declaim against vanity, and detect it so often in his ! friends, 1 began to suspect he knew the malady by liav-' ing had it himself, and that I had observed through life,! that those persons who had the most vanity were the i most severe against that failing in their friends. lie] wished to impress upon tnc that lie was not vain, and I gave various proofs to establish this; hut being consider-! ed more un lioimuc de societe than a poet, and other I little examples, when he laughingly pleaded guilty,and promised to be 11. ore merciful towards his friends. \\ c s.it on t:ie balcony after tea; it commands a fine j view, and we had one of those moonlight nights that arc seen only in this country. Every object' was tinged j with its silvery lu. •» . In front were crowded an un-! countable number of ships from every country, with] their various flags waving in the breeze which boro to us the sounds of the various languages of the crew s, in ! the distance we enjoyed a more expanding view of the sen, which reminded Bvron of his friend Moore’s de scription, which he quoted: 'The sea is like asilv’ry lake.’ The fanalc casting its golden blaze into this silvery lake, and throwingn red lurid reflection on the sails of! the vessels that passed near it; the fishermen, with their I small boats, each having a fire held in a sort of grate! fastened at the end of the boat, which horns brilliantly, I and by which they not only sec the fish that approach, Lut attrack them; their scarlet caps, w hich all (he Genoese sailors and fishermen wear, adding much to their pictu- i resquo appearance, all formed a picture that description ! falls lat 3.fiurt of; when to thisjare joined the bland odors ] of the richest &. raitC* flowers, with which the balconies are filled, one feels tiiat such nights arc never tube for- j gotten, and while the senses dwell on each, and all, a j delicious melancholy steals over the mind, as it reflects - that, the destinies of each conducting to fat distant re- j gions, a time will arrive when all now before tho eye j will appear hut as a dream. i his was felt hy all the party, and after a silence of | many minutes, it was broker, by Byron, who remarked, j ‘What an evening, and what a view! Should we ever! meet in the dense atmosphere Os London, shall wc net! recall this evening, and the scenery now before us: but ' 110! most nr-i-fly there, wc should not feel as wc do here; we should fall into tbe same heartless, loveless “piithy that distinguish one half of our dear compatriots, I ! or the bustling, imp. rtinent importance to be consider- ! [ ed supreme boil ton that marks the other.’ Byron spoke with bitterness, but it was the bitterness' of a fine nature soured by having been touched too I closely by those who had lost their better feelings through j a contact with the world. After a few minutes silence,! lie said, ‘Look at that forest of masts now before 11! ! from what remote parts of the world do they conic! OYI how many waves have they not passed, amt how many ! tempests have tbev not been, and may again be exposed i to! how m;.ny hearts arid tender thoughts follow them! ; mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts, v ho perhaps at this hour are offering up prayers for their safety.’ While lie was yet speaking sounds of vocal music ; j arose-; hymns and barcaroles were sung in turns by the] ■ different crews, and when they had ceased, ‘God save the King’ was sung by the cri ws of some English mer chantmen lying close to the pier. This was a surprise , to us all, and its effects on our feelings was magnetic. Bvron was no less touched than the rest; each felt at the j moment that tie of country that unites all when they ! meet on a far distant shore. When t: e song ceased, ! Byron, with a melancholy smile, observed, ‘Why, posi tively, we arc all quite sentimental tin's evening, and I, , I who have sworn against sentimentality, find the old leaven still in my nature, and quite ready to make afoot of me. Tell it not in Gath,’ that is to say, breathe it I not in London, or to English cars polite, or never again shall I he able to enact the stoic philosopher. Come, come, this will never do, we must forswear moonlight,, fine views, and above all, hearing a national air sung.! Little docs his jrraeidus Majesty Big Ben, as Moore calls' him, imagine what loyal subjects he lias at Genoa, and least of all that 1 ain among their number.’ Byron attempted to be gay, but the effort was not; successful, and lie wtshi and us good night with a trepiila-j tion of manner that marked his feelings. And this is the! man that l have heard considered unfeeling ! llow of ; ten are our best qualities turned against us, and made the instruments fir wounding us in the mo3t vulnerable part, until, ashamed of betraying our susceptibility, we affect an insensibility we are far from possessing, and, while we deceive others, nourish in secret the feelings that jtrey only on our own hearts! It is difficult to judge when I/jrd Byron is serious or; not. lie has a lialiit of mystifying, that might impose upon many : but that can he detected hy examining iiisj 1 physiognomy ; for a sort of mock gravity, now and then j i broken by a malicious smile, betrays when he is speaking ; for effect, and not giving utterance to his real senti ments. If he sees that he is detected, he appears angry for a moment, ami then laughingly admits, that it a iniisca him to hoax people, as he calls it, and that when j each person, at some future day will give their different statements of him, they will be so contradictory, that a!! ; w ill be doubted, —an idea that gratifies him j ly ! The nobility of his nature is extraordinary, mid ; ! makes him inconsistent in his actions, ns well as in his ! conversation. Ho introduced the subject of La Contessa I Guiccioli and her family, which we, of course, would not 1 linvo touched on. lie stated that they lived beneath his I roof because his rank as a British IVer afforded lior fu- I I her and brother protection, they having been banished i from Ravenna, their native place, on account oftheir 1 politics. He spoke in high t mis of the founts L ambs, M JIIFFTRSON JONES, EDITOR. tailier and son; lie said that ho had given the family a w ing of his house, hut that their establishment.- were to tally separate, their repasts never taken together, and that such was their sctupiilous d< lic.-icv, that tliev never would accept a pecuniary obligation from him in all the difficulties entailed on them by their e xile. He repre. j sented La Cor.tessa Guiccioli as a most amiable and la tly-like person, perfectly disinterested and noble-uund ed, devotedly attached to him, and possessing so man? high arid estimable qualities, as to offer an excuse lor any man’s attachment to her. He said that he had been passsionatcly in love with her, and that she bad sacrifi ced every tiling for him; that the whole of her conduct towards him had been admirable, and that not only did he feci the strongest personal attachment to her, Imt the highest sentiments of esteem. lie dwelt with evident complacency on her noble birth and distinguished con nexions,—advantages to which he attaches great impor tance. 1 never mot any one with so decided a taste for aristocracy as Lord Byron, and this is shown in a thou sand different ways. He says the Countessa is well-educated, rcrnaikahjy fond of, and well read in, the poetry of Imr own country, and a tolerable proficient in that of France and England. 111 his praises cl Madame Guiccioli, it is quite evident that he is sincere, and 1 am persuaded this is his lust at tacliineut- He told me that she bad used every effort lo get him to discontinue ‘i)od Juan,’ or at least to pte serve the future Cantos from all impure passages. In short, lie .has said all that was possible to impress me with a favorable opinion of this lady, and has convinced me that lie entertains a very high one of her himself. Byron is a strange melange cf good and evil, the pre dominancy of either depending w holly on the humor he may happen to be in. Ilis is a character that nature to tally unfitted tor domestic habits, or for rendering a wo mari.of refinement or susceptibility happy, ' lie confes ses lo me that he is not happy, hut admits that it is his own fault, as the C-ontcssa Guiccioli, the only object of his love, lias all the qualities to render a reasonable be ing happy. I observed, apropos to some observation he had made, that I feared La Contessa Guiccioli had little reason to be satisfied with her lot. lie answered, ‘Por haps von arc right; yet she must know (hat 1 am sin cerely attached to her; hut the truth is, my habits are not those requisite to form the happiness of any woman; I am worn out in feelings, for, though only thirty-six, I feel sixty in mind, ami am less capable than ever of those nameless attentions that all women, but above all, Italian women, require. I like solitude, which has be- come absolutely necessary to me, am fond of shutting ] myself up for hours, and when with the person 1 like, am often distrait and gloomy. There is something lam I convinced (contimu and Byron) in the poetical tempera ment that precludes happiness, not only to the person who has it, but to those connected with him. Do not I accuse Inc of vanity because I say this, as my belie f is, that the worst poet may share this misfortune in com -1 mon with the best. The way in which I account for it 13, that our imaginations being warmer than our hearts ; and much more given lo w ander, the latter have not the j power to control the former; hence, soon after our pas sie::s sre griVficd, imagination again takes u ing, and | finding the insufficiency of actual indulgence beyond j the moment, abandons itself to all its wayward fan cies, arid doling this abandonment, becomes cold and 1 insensible to the demands of alii ction. This is our misfortune but not our fault, and dearly do we expiate it; by it wo are rendered incapable of sympathy, ami ; cnr.'.ict lighten, by sharing, the pain we inflict. Thus I wc witness, without the po\v< r of .alleviating, the an lie jty and dissatisfaction our conduct occasions. Wc are ! not so totally unfeeling, as not to be grieved at the un happiness we cause, hut this same power of imagination, transports our thoughts to other scenes, and we are al | ways so much more occupied hy the ideal than the pres- I mt, that we forget all that is actual. It is as thoughthe 1 creatures of another sphere, not subject to the lot of 1 mortality, formed a ficticious alliance (as all alliances must lie that are not in all respects equal) w illi the crca -1 tures of this earth, and, being exempt from its suffer i ings, turned their thoughts lo brighter regions, leaving the partners of their earthly existence to suffer alone. | But, let the object of affection bo snatched away by death, and how is all the pain ever inflicted nll them j avenged! The same imagination that led us to slight, ; or overlook their sufferings, now that they arc for ever ! lost to us, magnifies their estimable qualities, and in ! creases ten-fold the affection ve ever set for them— ‘Oh! what are thousand living lives, To that which cannot quit the dead?’ 1 low did I feel this when Allegro, my daughter, died! While she lived, her existance never seemed necessary to my happuicss ; but no sooner did 1 lose her, than it appeared tome as if I could not live w ithout her. Even now the recollection is most hitter, hut how much moic severely would the death of Teresa ; filict me with the dreadful consciousness, that while 1 had been soaring into the fields of romance and fancy, I had left her to weep over my coldness or infidelities of imagination. It 1 is adreaeful proof of the weakness of our natures, that wc cannot control ourselves sufficiently to form the hap piness of those w c love, or jo btar their loss without , agony.’ The whole of this conversation made a deep iinp r es* , sion on my mind, and the countenance of the speaker, full of earnestness and feeling, impressed it still more strongly on my memory. Byron is right; a brilliant im -1 agination is rarely, if ever, accompanied hy a warm heart; but on this latter depends the happiness of life, the other renders us dissatisfied with its ordinary enjoy, in’nts. A German gentleman having made a purchase of a thousand bags of collce, directed the Irish porter of the mercantile house to which it was consigned, to mark the coflee with the initials of his paternal name (D.) The pronunciation, however, was unfor tunate for the supercargo; “mark him,” said he, mid a Tec.” “Yes, your honor, replied Pat, and imme diately stamped every bag of the precious ] induct of the south with the letter T. The irritated Ger man lost all his wonted good humour at seeing the blunder, and as the lookers on were convulsed with laughter, the following dialogue took place:— D.—“.Mr Padriok! did I not dolt you for mark him mid a Tec?” Paddy.—“Pluzcyour honor, and is’nt that a Tae?” D.— “No! Mr. l’adriek, I dolt you to mark him 1 mid a Toe?” Paddy.—“By my soul, sir and there’s not never a mothers son upon this spot here, barring it be Mr. <FFlanagan, and he's gone home to Ireland, that can make a better Tae with a hair brush, than yon ones, and bad luck to yourself and all your kin folks, ■ take that." So saying, the indignant son of F.rin walked off, swearing that lie could mark colice bag* ur n ”1 as any thundering rhitrhman.