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art’ waited hi pi ogvoswive coiiim; iralft planet to
plain t, enjoying at every successive change a
more sublime felicity than in the lust.
I .’ stts Hxtibwi*
.1 Tale, with r A Lira I . —ln a small town in
one of tlia New K.rglan.l States there resided
some vents ago, two young men, whose subse
quent fortunes servo forcibly to show the advan
tage of personal applic Uton to study and busi
ness on tile one hand, and the folly of relying on
ancestral honors and extensive patrimonies on
the other. Samuel Ledyard was the only
favorite son of a gentleman, who in point of
riches and honors, stood confessedly at the
head of the aristocracy of that section of the
country. Nature had done much for Sam
uel’s person, though she had not been re
markably generous towaids him in the be
stowment of her mental girts. The lact howe
ver, that he was the darling son of the rich and
Hon. Judge Ledyard, was enough in his estima
tion, not oulv to make up for what nature had
refused to giant him, hut to give him a great su
periority ov. r his less favored neighbors. The
best that the fashion ot this world can give was
abundantly provided to gratify the vanity of Sa
muel. That he was superior to every one else,
none dared openly to deny, as all feared to incur
the haughty frowns of the patrician father; and it
is not astonishing that Samuel should presume
himself to he all which the flatterers of his fami
ly insisted trial he should be.
Within a few rods of the stately mansion
of Judge Ledyard, stood the humble dwel
ling of Peter Le Forest, the house-joiner.—
Peter had a son of the same age of Samuel.
Stephen Le Forest, however, was but a poor
bov ; and what added if possible, still more
to his shame, in the estimation of the Led
vards, he was a oiner—a laboring man.—
Though Samuel and St phen were near
neighbors from their birth, little acquaintance
and less intimacy was allowed to subsist be
tween them. If Samuel in his great condescen- 1
sion ever did speak to Stephen, it was to remind j
him >f his ather’s greatness and the obscurity ■
of'riephen's.andto insulthimby any other means
a; hand.
St -phen bore this becomingly; for the thought
nev r had entered into his head that he could be
equal to the Ledyards.
These boys, for the most of the time from
six to sixteen, went to school, but not togeth
er. A select establishment must be prepared
lor the childen of the Judge, while Stephen,
with his scanty supply of books, under the
tuition of different masters, at the common
schools, had to make the best progress he
could. He applied himself, however, and
made good proficiency. When these youths
were at the a<re of sixteen, and as Samuel was
about to enter college, the Ledyards learned
with surprise and indignation that it was the de
sign of Peter Le Forest to send Stephen also to
college, and at the same aniv-isit where Sam
uel was to acquire his literary honors! Stephen
Le Forest, however,hud as good a right to go to
college as Samuel Ledyard, and the faculty be
ing independent of both, would recieve the for
mt as readily as the latter. The thought that
Stephen was to be classsmate with Ledyard
was revolting to the pride of the Judge and his
aristocratic son, but determining that Samuel
should have no intercourse with Stephen and
trusting that the great wealth of Ledyard
would exalt the former in the good esteem
of the faculty and students over the latter,lie was
sent to Cambridge, and entered the class with
Stephen.
During their four years residence at college
Samuel adhered strictly to his determination to
have no intercourse with poor Stephen Le Fo
rest, the laborer’s son. To his fellew students
he professed to know the thing and knew him
onlv t > despise his poverty and obscurity. The
prodigality of Samuel was proverbial in the col
lege. and more than one instance his violation
of principle and neglect of studies, subjected him
to the reprimand of the President. Stephen
pursued the even tenor of his way, attended to
his studies recited his lessons well, and by his
amiable and unpretending- deportment, acquired
the good will of the better part of the students and
the approbation of others.
He was prudent in his expenditures, and by
keeping school during the vacations earned near
ly enough to pay his college bills. When the
tour years were out aud the class was to be gra
duated, Stephen had the first part ofthe exercises
assigned him while Samuel was hardly noticed.
These arrangements were dissatisfactory to the
1 ,edyards but they could not be altered. Stephen
left the stage applauded by the vast crowd of
spectators, while Samuel’s performance enga
ged no expressions from audience but those of
iisgust.
After leaving college, both Samuel and Ste
phen were placed in a studious situation to pre
par- fertile bar. In due time Stephen was ad
mitted to practice, and opened an office in the
village of his nativity. Samuel's father dying
about this time he abandoned his legal studies
presuming that business would he unnecessary
to him—sogreat was the inheritance left him by
his father. For -ome years he made it his only
businesss to dash about in stalely pride, expen
ding what he regarded as the inoxhaustable rich
es, left him by his father. Time however pro
ved his mistake. Before prodigality anddispu
t-uion, “riches took to themselves wings and
flew away.” The gambling table made fatal
inroads upon his property. He saw Stephen
il iiiiishing in his profession and despised him
—for though in the course of a few years
Stephen had accumulated more property than
Uamuei had remaining, still it was a circum
-tan-.e sufficiently damning in his view of the
firmer and sufficiently honorable in bis view of
himself, that Stephen was the son of Le Forest
the -arponter, and he was the so i of Ledyard,
the judge.
In ten years Samuel had not a cent’ remain
i jo. II itrussed by creditors, and having too
much pi',.'**! to stand in his bumili itiori before
Steohen, now’ a man of wealth and influence,
he ! fft nis native village and entered some petty
officer o i board of a ."hip the navy. Here
Jijs (jabits were Ml h as < “'gsod him to I e cash- (
iered, and he was dismissed from the service in
disgrace.
In the mean time by industry and perseve
rance, the joiner’s son rose to eminence in his
profession. Before Ledyard entereil the Navy,
Ie Forest stood at the head of the bar in the
country about the time ofSamuel’s leaving the
service in disgrace', Stephen was appointed to
the same honorable office which the senior Led
vard had formerly held. Since that time Sam
uel Ledyard has been sentenced to the State
Penitentiary for his crimes where he remained
a miserable object of pity when 1 last heard from
him. These are tiicts substantially from real
life. The names only are ficticious. They
seem to show how that the wheel of fortune in
a free country will carry the meritorious upwards
while it precipitates the profligate into the ruins
; below. We have not thought to adorn the tale
by any fanciful enibehshments. The desire not
to tell a long storv has compelled us to leave
but studied descriptions.
We were present at the trial of Ledyard.
Le Forest was the presiding Judge on the bench
—and when his duty called him to pronounce
upon the unhappy criminal, we saw the tear
steal down the manly cheek of the judge, and ;
his voice faltered as he gave utterance to the
dread language of the law. For ourselves, we
could not so well command our passions. We
| thought of the past, and looked on the present,
| .and wept. How could we help it? Oh that
youth in every circumstance would learn that
“pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty
spirit before a fall,while he that humblethhiniseif
shall be exalted.”— Eastern Taper.
From thr .Vfir- York’ Constellation.
ESQUIRING.
Stuck round w ith titles." — Pope.
Sir, —Going a few days since to the post of
fice in our town to get my newspaper, I was
informed that there was alse a letter for me; and
handed me one which, on reading the super
scription, l perceived was directed to Andrew
| Hawbunck, Esq.
“This can’t be for me,” said I—“It is direct
reeled to one Sqttire Hawbunck.” So I hand
ed it back, and was going away, when the post
master called me back, and insisted upon my j
taking the letter and paying the postage, which
was one-oad-.sixpence.
“Would you have me to take another man’s
letter?” said I. “You can see well as I it’s not
for me. My name is plain Andrew Hawbunck.;
I never was Squired in my life, and never de
sire to be. They did once talk of making me
a Justice of Peace, but I was off—l would’nt
accept but Mr. Postmaster, that letter must be
for some other man; and I have no idea of bur
ning my fingers by breaking open another man’s
letter.”
“But there’s no other man of your name in
town,” said he. therefore it must he you; so
you need’nt be under no apprehensions about
breaking open another man’s letter. At all
events I’ll stand in the gap and save you from:
all harm.”
In a word he urged me so much that I paid J
for the letter, and broke the. seal. I found it j
was in reality for me, and that it was from a
printer, urging me to nay for a newspaper which
I had paid for six moiitlis bcfoicj l-it tlic mo
ney, I suppose, owing to some limit in the post
office, never got as far as New York. This is
certainly a groat vexation, to be dunned for mo
ney I had already- paid but nothing to that of
being called Esquire.
I showed the letter to my wife, and would
you think it! she was in raptures at the new ti
tle 1 had got, declaring that she would w illingiy
pay for the newspaper over again, for the sake
of having me called Esquire. She thought I
deserved it as well as my neighbors.
I threw the letter into the fire and called her
an old fool, for being pleased with a silly, emp
ty, unmeaning title, “Ifit meant anything.” said
I, “it would’nt be stuck on to every body’s
name; and if it does’nt mean any thing, why
then tisn’t worth having.”
In England, I understand the title of Esquire
is given to every man that has a landed income
of2oo pounds a year; and in this country I can
recollect when it was only attached to lawyers
and justices of peace. It had some meaning,
then. But now its given to Tom, Dick, and
Harry, and there is no meaning to it. Every
whippersnapper is called Esquire. Theres
Tom Jones, the tinker, Esq. Peter Grievous
the grave-digger, Esq. Daniel Huggins, the
ditcher, Esq. Simon Snapdragon, the horse
doctor, Esq. Patrick Mulligen, the pedlar,
Esq. And John Scraper the scavenger, Esq.
In short there is no end to Esq’s now-a-days.
Every body is Esq. if you may judge from the
superscriptions of letters. There cannot be
less than two or three milli ns of Esq’s in the
United States.—What are the British titles,
compared with all these ? To be sure, your
Dukes your Marquises, your Earls, your Vis
counts, your Barons, your Dons, and other high
titles in Europe, sound more loftily than the
humble title of Esq. and confer more honor on
the possesor.—But then all this difference is
more than made up in the everlasting number
of Esq's we have in this plain, simple republican
country.
Now, for my part, I am nothing more or less
than a plain farmer, and I hope an honest one.
I make it a rule never to say what I do not
mean, and I wish others to do the same by me.
It is the only correct grammer as I take it. I
do not desire to be Esquired, noi addressed by
any title that does not belong to me. It is dis
honest, and a great impropriety of speech.
There is my neighbor Jenkins, we always
call him Lieutenant Jenkins. It’s a name he’s
gone by these fifty years; and it’s all right j
enough for he was a lieutenant in the old Revo- 1
lutionarj army. And then again there’s my j
neighbor Winrow, we always call him Corporal;
and it’s all perfectly right, for he likewise fought
the British in the Revolution, and did some
where earn the title of corporal, which was con
ferred on the spot. And so of a great many
others ofthe heroes of those times that tried
men’s souls. They came honestly by their ti
tles.
But this tacking Esq. to every body’s name
Idr think is most rcdiculotts and ccnlcmnpti
ble. I would sooner be a ptippy and have a tin
kettlo tied to mv tail than to have it tacked to
every two-legged puppy in tho country.
In fine, I have written to the editor that tack
ed Em;, to my names to have my paper stopped.
I will not encourage a man who attempts (as
we say in our country,) to “rub me down w ith
soft soap;” and l will have this a warning to all
editors, not to do the like again.
Now Sir, please send me your paper; hut re
collect, if you ever presume to Esq. tne that mo
ment I stop your paper.—With this rod in pick
le, I subscribe myself,
Your friend and well wisher,
ANDREW HAWBUNCK.
Jacob’s first offence. —Having occasion one
day last summer to look into Judge King’s
Court, to find a lawyer who, we learned, had,
like ourselves, made at that moment his first
appearance in that place for several years, we
found the court occupied with sentencing cer
tain criminals, against whom the jury of peers
had pronounced the verdict of guilty. One af
ter another, his honor despatched the motley
group of black, white and grey, who were con
gregated in the prisoners’ box some were to
serve the public two years, some for one year,
and others for a few months, according to the
legal distinction of their various misdoings; and
each heard in silence his sentence, and looked
all submission, as if he felt that if all was known,
the punishment WGuld have been doubled. This
silence, we have remarked, is the attribute of
the prisoners’ oox. The bold and reckless are
silent because they would brave all consequen
ces; the timid speak not, because they are tim
id. When the whole array of culprits in the
box had been disposed of, we looked for a move
ment of the people towards the door; but instead
of that, attention was directed to an individual
sitting on a bench at the right of the prisoners’
box. Changing our position, we had a full
view of him, and we will now attempt a sketch
of his person.
The man was about 75 years of age, and
bore those marks upon his visage which deno
ted that labor and exposure had aided time in
his work. As he sat, his body leaned forward
to an angle of about 45 degrees: his right hand
was resisting on a staff, and in his left, hut ly
ing on a bench, was a bag. His dress was of
the most ordinary kind, his beard had not that
length which adds dignity to age, nor was it suf
ficiently short to denote any recent attention to
personal comforts; a few stray white hairs were
hanging straight down from under a coarse cap,!
with which his head was covered. Recent con- j
fincment had given more than a common pale- ;
ness to his visage, and unusual dimness to his
eye.
“Jacob,” said the Judge, in a tone in which
feeling for the age and wants of the prisoner
had evidently obtained the mastery over the
sterness of justice—“ Jacob, you have been
found guilty of stealing a quantity of poultry.”
Jacob turned his dim eye towards the Judge,
and slowly shook his head, while his fingers
played nervously upon his bag and cane.
“ The jury has pronounced you guilty,” again
said the Judge, in a tone which conveyed a
doubt whether the poor old man understood the ,
natuvn \f k’,< oitnatien
“I heard them,” said Jacob, “though I never
intended to steal from any man, whatever my
wants may have been, and they have been ma
ny and pressing—l never intended to take what
was not my own. I have lived 75 years in the
same neighborhood,—and—and” Jacob had ev
idently lost the thread of his remarks, he look
ed about as if to catch some hint by which to
he enabled to proceed,but he was unsuccessful;
he. shook his head again, and cast his eyes upon
the floor.
“The court,” said the Judge, in a tone of
kindness, “have considered the circumstances of
your case and pronounced the following sen
tence.”—
“Sentence—sentence,” said Jacob rapidly,
as he again gazed on the Judge; “sentence—l
have labored for a family, I have fought for the
country, I have paid taxes for the state, and I
am now J> be sentenced. IVho is he that can
say thut Jacob ever wronged him in 75
years? I appeal,” continued he, in a low, trem
bling voice, “ I appeal to Frederick G and
William , who were boys and men with me,
whether I have been charged with a crime—let
them speak for me.”
“They are both dead,” said the officer.
“Dead?” said the old man,
“Yes.”
“So they are—l had forgotton—they have
been dead these ten years. But no man dead
or alive, ever heard me accused of wrong doing
till this charge was made; and what had I to do
with the fowls?—l could have lived without
them, or at least I could have died without them
—I needed not to steal them. Steal! I did not
steal them.”
Again Jacob seemed to forget his subject;
he talked on incoherently, until he seemed wea
ry, when the Judge again prepared to pronounce
the sentence.
“ I would call some of my relations,” said
Jacob* “ but that I now remember that they are
dead also—they are all dead.”
When he was again silent, the Judge said to
the officer “take the old man to the prison and
let him wail there thirty days, (the shortost time
allowed by law for hi* offence) and let there be
endorsed on the committal, an order for him to
be admitted to the Alms House as soon as the
30 days are passed.”
Jacob rose when the officer approached him,
but it was evident that he had paid hut little at
tention to the sentence. He took up his bag,
and as he was moving out of the court room, he
muttered, “sentence—l did not steal.” He
raised his eyes to the crowd that were gazing
upon him —a slight hectic flush passed over his
visage—he repeated, “ but they are all dead,”
and then began his journey to the prison.
For more than 70 years, it seemed, that Ja
cob had mingled with society, man a>y! hoy; ha
had been known as honest; no temptation had
caused him to swerve from the track of duty,
and he had grown and grew old, with none to
gam say his credit. Childhood’s sunny years,
the long eternity of boyhood, youth’s gay sallies,
and mans sober occupations, had all come and
gone, and Jacob had passed through all un
scathed by serious censure, unmarked by pre
mediated guilt—and on the very threshold of
his coffin, slipping as it were into his grave,
with almost four score years upon him, in an
unguarded hour, he made shipwreck ot his
whole voyage, and, in sight ot port, sunk into
infamy.
Do parents, do gurdians see nothing in Ja
cob’s late his only error, upon which to build a
caution for their offspring and their charge? We
all, it is hoped, hedge about our children with
constant precept and wholesome example, and
fix their influence by earnest prayer. And we
should make them act from principle. We
should make honesty not a policy, not a calcu
lation, but a first movement, the instinctive feel
ing and prompting, ofthe mind; and this must
come from care —long continued watchings— I
habitual watchings. This year or this lustra ;
may pass in safety, temptations may assail in ;
vain, and we may look back on half a century !
of unsullied life, and thank God that we are
not as other men; but when the pride of a good j
standing fails us, when our outwards relations
are less fair, when the strong incentives to good j
from our various connexions cease, all must j
then depend upon a fixed, a safe and sure prin- j
ciples of right. We are not always safe; even
the “attendant spirit” of good which each
of us hath to watch over and guard us, seems
sometimes to have closed the eye, or to have
lifted it towards a higher power—it is not on us,
and we fail.— \U. S. Gas.
J 1 Quaker’s letter to liis Watchmaker. —l
herewith send thee my pocket clock which
greatly standeth in need of thy friendly correc
tion ; the last time he was at thy friendly school
he was no ways reformed, nor even in the least
benefited thereby ; for I percieve by the index
of his mind, that he is a liar and the truth is not
in him; that his motions are wavering and irre
gular, that his pulse is sometimes quick betok
eneth not an even temper ; at other times, he
waxeth sluggish, notwithstanding I frequently
urge him ; when he should be on his duty, as
thou knowesthis name denoteth,l find him slum
bering and sleeping—or, as the vanity of human
reason phrases it, I catch him napping. Hence
I am induced to believe he is not right in the in
ward man.—Examine him thcrelore, and prove
aim, I beseech thee, thoroughly, that thou may
est, by being well acquainted with his inward
frame and disposition, draw him from the error
of his ways; and show him the path wherein
he should go. It grieves me to think,and when
I ponder thereon, I am verily of opinion that his
body is foul, and the whole mass is corrrupted.
Cleanse him, therefore, with thy charming phy
sic, from all pollutoin, that he may vibrate, and
circulate according to truth. I will place him
a few days under thy care, and pay for his board
as thou requirest it. I entreat thee, friend John,
to demean thyself on this occasion with a right
judgement according to the gift which is in thee,
and prove thyself a workman that need not be
ashamed. And when thou layesttho correcting
hand on him, let it bo without passion, lest thou
drive him to destruction.—Do thou regulate his
, motion for time to come, by the motion of the
light that ruleth the day, and when thou findest
him converted from the error of his ways, and
more comformable to the above mentioned rules,
do thou send him home, with a just bill of char
ges, drawn out by the spirit of moderation, and
the root of evil shall be sent unto thee.
THE WESTERN HERALD
AURARIA, GEORGIA, JUNE 18, 1833.
[CJ” We are authorized to anounce the name of Maj.
JOEL CRAWFORD, ofHancock county, for Governor,
at the ensuing Election.
—:&Z2gZ:—
Our County Site. —Some difficulty arose a few days
since, between the Justices of the Inferior Court, and the
individual, from whom they purchased the lot on which
the county town is about to be located. There seemed
to be a misunderstanding in relation to the contract be
tween them, and it Was rumored for a while that the sel
ler had wholly refused to make titles, which report we
have no doubt has been busily circulated.
There has been an amicable adjustment of the difficul
ty. The court |has a good and sufficient title to the
lot and the sale will take place as advertised. There is
yet as might be expected some dissatisfaction on the part
of the people in relation to the selection made by the court,
though we hope they will so far t be removedjas to prevent
any injury that otherwise might be done the county,
by keeping the people in longer suspense upon the sub
ject.
-••aeae:-
Tht proposed amendment of the Constitution. —Suchis the
importance of correct action upon the part of the people in
this matter,that we will take the liberty of suggesting the
propriety of a county meeting, upon the subject at some
convenient time, confidently believing that if the people
can be correctly informed upon this subject, that they will
do justice to themselves, and honor to their country, by a
firm and manly rejection of the proposition so well calcu
lated to stir up strife, discord, and discontent, sq unpleasant
to them and so dangerous to the country.
—■2&&.’■-
Union. There is something in the attractive power of
names, that sometimes so closely rivets an erroneous n _ j
ciple upon the community, particularly the -
unsuspecting, that we frequently find majority, dispos
ed to follow the sound of an en-Unting name, and biding ;
defiance to principle, no blatter however important it may j
be to sustain them. And it is f requont , y the caße in
country, that w e see men whoare ambitious parasites of
power, in order to effect the purposes of their selfish de
signs, endeavoring to manufacture names for their own
“Sgrandisement, and ingenously, and sometimes grossly,
misapplying them to particular individuals, places or par
ties, to enable them, under the influence of misapplica
tion or misrepresentation to effect their object; no matter
how dangerous, or how base the purposes intended to be
effected.
I Such we find to be Uie case in Georgia at present ,
; the nemo of Union. If it was the object of those ‘
l endeavoring to march into power, under the j
Union, to act up to what we understand to be t|,
signification of the word, wo would endeavor, even 1
small sacrifice, to initiate into their band, and
them in the support of an object, which we would
ceive so desirable. We understand that union J
concord, conjunction, or in plainer English, to join
common cause, and to act in perfect harmony i n „ M
thing, to promote the interest, welfare and .uture p tos J f
ity of all whoare joined together, whether the joinders, 3
sists of individuals, counties, or communities. The
of the several States which creates this confederacy, ~
formed for the purpose of protection from invasions
out, and insurrections within. And hence it is,
the name is powerful, and well calculated to carry jn
that sortof influence and strength, which may in (l ,
prove dangerous to the government; should the name i,
so grossly misapplied, as it is now attempted to be byj, ?
late Clark prrty in Georgia. It will be noticed by all
have given any attention to the passed political events J
this state, that this disappointed, ambitious party,
lately seized upon the recent unfortunate difficulty Sy
tween South Carolina, and the General
fit occasion for triumph on their part m the state, to
and fix upon their opponents, those principles, whiclrliti?
long since been rejected by alarge majority of the
and to effect which, they have laid hold of the nams J
union, and misapplied its meaning from that of a imtw ( *
the part of the states, in one common cause, in order 0
enable them to repel invasions or suppress insurrection,;
and are now useing it as a scourge upon the
for the purpose of bringing them in subjection to suppu” |
their favorite men for office, and thereby get anothfi
sweep at the Treasury, which always seem to be m® ■
desirable to them, than any principle now is, or ever It 3!
split them from their opponents. Wc would like to as 3
them, after assuming to themselves a name (no matte 3
how arrogant in that assumption) act np to the sew
understanding and lileral meaning of that name. Botitl I
so with these people, are they for a general union of tj, 1
people ofthe states. Iftheyare, and wilt go right, Keti i
unite with them. Are thev for a union of the several state i
allow us our reserved rights, and we go with them. But; T
as we believe, all these great union meetings, and 100, :
union speeches, about which there is so much said byfo M
self-styled union party in Georgia, are only intended toe ;
feet the aggrandizement of a few would be great men fr*
the state, who have been rejected for want ofcorrect piio i
ciples and merit, to entitle them to a share of the “ lovell
and fishes;” we will not be gulled into their support, tv -!
themselves what they will, and if we had to give thenu |
name, and disposed to <fo them justice, would never tiiiii 1
of union, as it is by no means appropriate to them, furtke 3
than the toiion of their party influence extends, which! f
not beyond the limits of the state. From the firm and W -t
manner in which they acted in 1825, resorting to allma i
surcs against the best interests of the wast- Vi
tempting, and effectually did stand up, against John k
Adams at their back, in support of her rights in establish
ing, and making valid a treaty with the Creek Indians
for their claim to lands within our state, we shoui
judge that almost any name would be more appropriates >
them than union. Wo, must confess that we are very pat ‘?
tial to the name of union, and we shall give it up rclut
tantly, when compelied to yield it to any who are unft- |
serving of its honors; hut if it is to be made Ihe politrin
1 hobby for men to ride into office on, (as we have none’ ri
1 that sort of ambition to gratify ourselves) they mat:
if they will style themselves the Union party ii |
Georgia; but we know not why or wherefore it should k,l
on the present occasion.
From the Augusta Chronicle.
ii OUTBID,
The “Superintendent of a Mighty Workshop
would give employment to a few efficient opei-.
ators. “I have a great ninny things to do, anc
finding it necessary to take one at a time, I so
lect the most important one first, and when tk
is disposed of I take up the next,” &c. Hav
ing to labor so much personally, “ my health i
bad, but my spirits and confidence are firm arj
unshaken.” “My auxiliaries are few and fee
ble” “and purely and exclusively selfish.” “IS
have not a solitary competent and regular advi
ser.” To be sure, I have a great many wbt
i obtrude their advice upon roe; but they are tot
i feeble and incompetent far me to listen to, when
as you see, I have taken upon myself, to tel!
the President; and Mr. Cass, the Secretary and ,
War, if they want any thing done with tit
Cherokees, in the shape of a communication, tc 4
let me give the red brethren a talk; for I can
do better than the “great Father” himself
So I think it ridiculous for such strikers as
are about Milledgeville, to be telling me what
to do.
Liberal wages will be given to such as are noi
“purely selfish,” and altogether incompetent,
and feeble-, and who will go the “whole hog”
for my aggrandizement, right or wrong,, and
come prepared to watch the breeze, and fol
low it, no matter whether it sets for Union, Nul
lification, Consolidation, or State Rights.
For further particulars please not to enquire
of the Editor of the Chronicle, whose paper 1
no longer “read with increased interest,” but at
the “Mighty Workshop.”
P. S—“l shall not ape Troup.”
FOH THE WESTERN HERALD.
ii (DiitEtiDv
•TO THE “ SUPERIN'S ENDANT OF i
THE MIGHTY WORKSHOP.”
I see a card of yours the Chronicle of the
Bth inst., in which you give notice, that von
wish to employ a few efficient operators. lam
wanting business, and am, or in other words,
may be made just whatever you would please
*.') have me, and if the great father should con
sent for you to give the red children a talk, I
am here among them, and can do the talking
for you. In taking upon myself the many ne
cessary privations, such as want of firmness and
decision, with a total disregard for truth, and
the enjoyment ot my own opinions until the tide
of public sentiment is ascertained, in order to
make you a faithful servant, which I shall
deavour to do under every and all circumstance.,
to insure liberal wages, which will be as desira
ble to me, as popularity now is, or ever was to
you, even in your most wheel-about and time
serving days. lam not selfish, incompetent,
or feeble. I will jjo the whole hog and a quar
ter of beef, out here for, your aggrandizement
