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by p. c. Pendleton. | Devoted to Literature, Internal Improvement, Commerce, Agriculture, F and Domestic News, Amusement, &,c. jc. r. iianlditi k, printer. VOL. I. THE soErttsiisiESJ Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday Morning. at three dollars in advance, ffll'R dollars at the end of the year— two dollars for six months; and mailed to country subscribers by the earliest mails, enveloped bv good strong wrappers, with leyible direc tions. No subscription received for a less period than six months —and no paper discontinued, until a,, arrears are paid. • Advertisement* will be inserted at die usual rates es advertising, with a reasonable deduction to yearly ad vertisers. Jt Marriage and Obituary Notices inserted free of charge. Anv person forwarding a ten dollar bill, (pcs' paid,) shall receive five copies, for one year, tfl be sent to dilTereut persons, as directed. Letters, on business, either to the Publisher or Editor, must coine post paid to insure -attention. POETRY. From the Edinburgh Scotsman. TIIE SEA.. Roll on ! roll on! in search of prey, Thou restless foaming sea ! I love to gaze,in pensive mood, On all that speaks of thee. The rugged rocks—the sparkling sand— The cavern dark and lone, Where waters rush with sullen sound The echoing rock among. Roll on ! roll on ! in all thy pride ! Art cannot thee control; Man cannot check thy boundless sway, Nor bid the* thus to roll. But tlisu has power to crush the heart That trusts its all to thee — For widow’s hope and maiden’s love Lie buried in the sea ! Roll on! roll on! thy restless course Above the good and brave — Thou hast no spell to waken thoso Who perish’d on thy wave. But quiet they sleep ’mid coral caves, As in the lofty tomb, , Far, far fre m those who deeply mourn Their sad untimely doom. Roll on ! roll on ! above the mine Os all thy hidden store i Os gold, and pearls, and precious things, Which man can ne’er explore. For in thy deepest caverns lie Those gems of lustre rare — The richest produce of the earth Cannot with them compare ! Roll on ! roll on ! above the wreck Os many hopes and fears ; O'erwhelwing in thy briny wave All joys of after years ! The Ruler of the mighty deep, He will again restore The loved and lo«t. who sleep in thee, When time shall be no more! H. Y. SUNDAY READING THIS MINUTE Is the bearer of joys or pangs to the memo ries of thousands, and the birth of bliss or wo to thousands more. And what is it to me? Am Ia mere spectator? or am 1 subject to Hie possible, nay, sure results of this minute? Does the stream of time cease its rolling while 1 gaze on its surface, and contemplate its .course and termination! No; it flows onward and bears.away, disdainful ol bribe, and with out discrimination, the noble and the mean, htc rich and the poor, beautiful and . the ill-favored, the wise and the fool, the infidel and the saint, and heeds no mandate but His who bade it flow, and flow it shall till time shall be no more. This minute I am in the current, for the stream has no eddies. How rapidly have I passed, in succession, the numerous points on its banks! How soon shall 1 reacti its mouth, and then, O then, tne ocean —ti:e bottomless and shoreless ocean!! Am lof materials and structure to mount its wave and move buoy antly and swiftly on its broad bosom—or shall the grossness of my corrupt nature and habits sink me info its Jeep and dark abyss, not to drown, but to endure the suffocation of end less despair ? Then what, my fellow men, is this minute worth? Is it worth the pleasures you desire while it passes, from the indulgences of appe tite or curiosity? Is it worth the money you paid for the last show, or the sum you extort from vour neighbor? What is it wort.a? ou may barter it for a dram, or a monkey show; but roval grandeur, at the point ol death, once exclaimed, “ A world of wealth for an inch o! time.” ‘ Christian Index A GENUINE REVIVAL Is solemn and even awful. God is in the midst of it, and his presence carries death to levity, presumption, arrogance and proud dis play. It inspires an awe, hke that felt at the foot of Sinai. It creates a trembling through out the whole camp. It is marked by deep, and often long.continued conviction of sin; overwhelming sorrow for the hardness ol tlie heart; earnest pleadings with a holy and a just God for light and direction; a disposition to retire from observation, and vent tho soul s anguish in tho closet; love for the Bible; nb horrenoc of all lightness of speech and liohu viour; clear apprehensions of the law of God, in its purity, spirituality, compass and ends; great fears of self-deception; thorough search ings of the heart: many, many tears and heart breakings in view of past offences; and many strong fears that the day of mercy may have gone by for ever. W..ere a religions excite ment is not attended by marks like these, both among Christians and sinners, we have no con fidence in it. Some souls may be converted, but move are like’y to be ruined beyond all hope of recovery. Presbyt. KNOWLEDGE OF JKE VT lILD. It is a gioat mistake to suppose, that those men are the most distinguished for an exten sive knowledge of mankind, who have thought the worst of their species. What lias gouer a’lv been called a knowledge < f the world, has ecu an acquaintance with a very small part of t. W ien Sir Robert Walpole declared that every man could he bribed, only make tie temptation largo enough, he undoubtedly spoke f om the views of human nature which he had t (ken. But what was that part of human na ture which came under his view ? The fry of rt court, the most venal of mankind, ready to nibble at any bait which corruption might throw out. Surely, these were not specimens of so ber tradesmen, honest merchants, and, still less of humble Christians. The duke de Roche foucault was not acquainted with human na ture. lie knew Paris exactly; but Paris, thank heaven, is not all the world. Lord Chesterfield knew as little of human nature; in painting mankind, he saw nothing but his own fi ivo’ous heart. Human nature, though de praved. is not such a common sewer of filth as some would make it. Man has his bright and his dark sides ; and an extensive acquaintance with his nature must lead us lo acknowledge both. HUMAN LIFE. Nor should we draw too dark a picture of the miseries of human l.fe. Human life is a . cloud, witn sunshine on its borders ; and if there is much to fear, there is something to hope for. T.iere is no subject which the old Greek writers darken so much, when in a gloomy mood, as the life of man. “ O, life ! unfriendly still to human joy, How do thine arrows every scene annoy ! In youth my passions were by want restrain'd : And passion died in age, w hen wealth was gain’d. Through joys half-finished all our days are run, And closed in disappointment as begun.” But the Heathens s tw not the tomb gilded by the rays of the Sun of Righteousness. The following comes nearer to the gospel. It is remarkable that St. Paul never speaks of Chris tians as dead; they have fallen asleep. So thought the writer of the following lines in Greek. I shall give them in English : “ Why o’er the virtuous dead should mourners weep ? The virtuous never truly die—they sleep.” TRUTH. Truth courts investigation, but error shrinks from scrutiny. Truth fears no evil from the most rigid examination, but error always fears the consequences. Truth is imntutable, and will stand criticism. Truth, like its author, is elenial, and will exist amidst the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds, whilst error will be swept away w th the “refuge of lies.” The more you examine truth, like gold, the brighter it will shine. < Truth is never tarnish ed by inspection, but discovers the more splen dor. Any system which shrinks from scruti ny discovers corruption in its premises, and is unworthy the attention of an intelligent mind. A certain writer has said, with the utmost pro priety. “He that will not reason, is a bigot; lie that cannot reason is a fool ; and lie tiiat dares not reason is a slave.” Evangelical Univerealist. REASON. Reason is one of the greatest gifts with which we are endowed. There are many, nevertheless, in this far-famed land of intellec tual improvement, who deny the use of our reason, in theology. Such are completely trammelled by the shackles of priestly influ ence and intolerant bigotry. If we begin to reason upon the creeds ot men, we are de- | nounced as a heretic. We ask, if our reason \ must ever sit in silence when the subject of re ligion is broached, how shall we ascertain ! which system of religion is correct? The Mahometan, the Hindoo, the Pagan, tho Jew, the worshipers of Juggernaut, and the Grand Lama, arid the Christian, all present their the ories to our regard. Now, if we have not the privilege to weigh all these scales of reason, j how shall we know which is the true religion l Reason we have, thank God! Let the bigot rage; let the fanatic worship at tlie shrine of enthusiasm, yet, so long as reason sits upon the throne of man’s intellect, we have no fears. But let this he dethroned, and what will not ignorance and enthusiasm do? We say to nil, exercise your reason, and you will discover a rational religion. Evangelical Univerealist. Friendship.— Plato says, “I had ratio - Invc o e good friend than all the delights and treasures of Darius;” and Cicero says, “ that neither water, fire, nor tho air we breathe, is more necessarv to us than friendship,” The writings of Tally are full of expressions to the same purpose'. Xenophon pronounced of its perfection—“ that it was abovo the reach of the highest human endowment.” Bius said, “that man had secured the greatest goo I of life who had chosen a worthy friend.” Zeno being asked “wlmt is a friend?” answered, “he is uuotlior I.” MACON, (Ga.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 7, 1838. MIS CEla L A EOU S. From Bentley's MLccilany f. r May. THE MISFORTUNES AND CONSOLATIONS OF , KKGRINE TWESZLE. Mvfiiend Tweezlo has, through life, bu u the most unfortuna'e, i.n I yet the most for: - nate of men. Every species of calamity hs; befallen him, and yet he has never once be. i unhappy. M Bfortune aid lie h ive ever here t at war; she darting her missiles at him, and tie throwing them back at her, or raising up b i t ons, tie!find which he has ensconced him self, and laughed" the malicious jade to scorn. Lucky has it been for him that he has been made of such “ impenetrable stuff;” lucky for him that he has had a thick head and a tough hide; and that, like the tortoise, which, encased in its hard shell, less the ponderous wagon wheel pass over it without flinching, he lias, also been able to let the heavy car of Fate drive right over his back, without having a •single bone broken by the pressure. Some men, when under the lash of misfortune, sud denly imagine that they ought to be religious, and lake to praying rno.-,t vehemently while the danger lasts; others-again are optimists, and, when tic shoe pinches them, console themselves by quoting the hackneyed line of the poet, “whatever is, is right; ’ while others —poor weak-minded creatures—fly to the bottle for solace, and make beasts of them selves. because Fate lias proved unkind.— Tweezle, however,condemns all these methods, and consoles himself in a manner peculiarly his own. Wheuever any scowling, ill-favored fiend, of the many that follow in the train of misfortune, stares him in the face, my friend Tweezle sits himself calmly down and looks at him. He quietly takes the measure of his deformity, and, if the fiend have, by chance, any good parts about him, l.e treasures them in his remembrance. Then he shuts his eyes and gi\es loose rein to his imagination; w hich, finding it sols at liberty to disport, speedily de picts the monster as ten times more hidcons than he. really is. At this creation of his fancy Tweezle shudders, his h fir stands on end, and he thinks himself indeed an unfortunate man, to be in the presence cf a misfortune so great and so menacing. This, however, only lasts for a moment, and Tweezle opens his eyes again. The monster is still there. “ Ha! ha!” says Teazle, pretending to he agreeably sur prised, “is that you? Lord love yon, I thought you were a great deal uglier; really, 3ou are not half so bad as you might have been. Your face is really pleasant, and your behaviour ac tually (ourteous, in comparison with the one I took you for. What a lucky fellow I am, that Fate has sent me, in vour person, a mis fortune that I can put up with. Ha! mv good fellow! there h comfort in store yet!” and Tweezle, rhapsodizing in this strain, actually rejoices that a little misfortune has come upon him. because a greater might, with as much justice, have befallen him. Tweezle and I were schoolfellows, and ore trait of his early character will exemplify his peculiar philosophy. Peregrine, being so easy and good Matured, shared the fate of all easy folks, and was always put upon, and became, in fact, the scape-goat of the whole school. If any riotous urchin had committed a fault— broken a window, knocked down a pie-woman, or drawn a caricature of our pedagogue upon the. wall—Peregrine was pointed out as the de linquent. Straightway the awful ferula was put into requisition, and Tweezle and its thongs became more intimately acquainted than was at all agreeable to the former. Tweezle was at this time but seven years old; but his ruling maxim had even then penetrated into his brain, and become the guide of his conduct and his consolation in distress. Onr peda gogue, Mr. Thu mp’emwell, had a wife, who had a very inordinate notion of her own excel lence, both mental and corporeal, and a very supreme contempt for her husband in both respects. Thump’emwell, if rumor spoke truly, now and then experienced from this af fectionate partner a few proofs of her supe riority, which she manifested by imprinting upon his cheeks the marks of her delicate fin gers, and by letting fall upon his e\"es the full weight of her dainty fist. One unlucky morn ing, some satirical rogue—ill-natured, as sati rists alwa} - s are—drew with dialk upon the wall a very tolerable representation of one of the striking scenes above alluded to, which had, 011 tlie previous evening, agreeably re lieved the dull monotony of the scltoohnnster’s life. When Thump’emwell came down in the morning, his eyes rested immediately upon this sketch of his connubial felicity. He gazed upon it for a minute in awful silence; and then his eyes sparkled with fury, and his face grew so red, and tlie veins of his forehead so swollen, that wc thought be would have suffo cated. Clenching his band, and striking it against his desk, upsetting, at the same time, an inkstand all over his nankeen and nether garments, lie. with a still small voice, ordered us all to stand up. Tire dread summons was o'>e)'ed, and we stood in a line across the room. Thuntp’cmwell was always in a tremendous fury whenever he spoke low and blandly, and we accordingly prepared ourselves for an ex plosion. “ Now, ni v dear children,” said Tliump’ein w ell, “ you know - 1 love you sincerely,” and the hypocritical wretch seized hold of the ferula as lie spoke: “and I sliould die with grief, if one of you should ever came to the gallows. Now - , tlio littie atrocious vagabond w! o made that drawing is sure to be Imaged; nothing can save him from it, unless I find him out un<i flog him, and confine him for three day? upoo bread and w#«jr» You bee* j tiierefore, my dear children,” "continued he, j st.ll in tite same bland voice, “that my affec i tij:i compels me to punish the offender.— | Therefore, I ask you who did ii?” No reply. “ Tell me, or I will flog every soul of you, | from tlie biggest to the least. Who was the a rocious little reptile tiiat had tlie uudu> i y to: do it.” Still there was no reply; and Thump’em well lif ed his rod, and brandisl ed it in air, passing the fingers of his left lmud lovingly ■ through the thongs as it deseeuded. Siill a general silence prevailed; every one looked innocent, and the real culprit certainly ! t ;e mo it innocent of all. Again the question was asked, and all eyes were directed towards poor Tweezle, who, though guiltless as the babe unborn, stood trembling at the bottom of tlie file, llis coun ! lenance was paler his eyes were downcast, and his knees knocked together. As the fierce look of the pedagogue was turned to wards him, niy poor friend thought that he might as well have been guilty, since he was sure to bear the punishment. “It was you, was it, you incorrigible ras cal?”.said Thump’emwell, seizing the unlucky Peregrine by the nape of the neck. Now go, sir, and rub it off.” Tweezle did as he was desired. “Now, my dear little boy,” said Thump ’emwell, “ come here.” Tweezle knew it would be of no use to re sist, and so he went. In a minute afterwards, the instrument of torture ascended and descended in rapid suc cession, and the screams of the unhappy suf ferer resounded through the apartment. “FU teach you, you imp, to make sport of your superiors,” sai 1 Thump’ornwell, after lie had flogged him till his arm was tired. “And now,” added he, “come with me!” Tweezle, still bellowing, as if he had the lungs often urchins, was dragged by Thump ’emwell to a little dark, dusty room, used as a prison for juvenile delinquents, and there lock ed up. We all of us heard him roaring for about five minutes, when tlie noise gradually subsided, and he was as quiet as if he had dropped asleep. Feeling acutely for his suf ferings, and indignant that he should have un dergone such severe punishment for an oflence of which he was guiltless, I seized an opportu nity to steal away to condole with him upon his wrongs. Tapping gently at the door of his prison, I announced myself, and straight way began to console him under the pressure ofifis evil fortune. “ Oh, I am quite comfortable!” said Tweezle, stopping me short in the midst of my - lamentations. “What!” said I, surprised, “after such a beating, as that infernal Thump’emwell gave you?” “ Yes,” said Tweezle. “ And three whole dn3 - s to be locked up here, and condemned to bread and water. Comfortable, did you say?” “Yes, quite comfortable,” said Tweezle; “ one thing only troubles me.” “ And what is that?” “That I was not guilty. However, I intend to become so as soon as I get out, and there’s comfort in that.” “Well done, Tweezle! I admire 30U for that! But is it not cruel, nevertheless, tiiat you should be confined here for three da3s? Is it not disgraceful!” “It is rather,” replied Tweezle; “ but I do not mind it. Three da3"s will pass sooner than a week. It might have been worse!” And with this small grain of comfort —that his punishment might have been more severe —lie passed the term of his imprisonment in cheerfulness. Happy Tweezle! This was one of the troubles of his early life; and in manhood he has not been more fortu nate. 111-luck has always followed him. He has been in love, and been jilted; he has pla3 r ed, and been plucked; he lias confided, and been deceived; but still, the more that Fortune has frowned, the more stubborn has he boon in defiance of her, and the more eager to con so!e himself, even in F'ate’s darkest day, by re flecting “ that it might have been worse.” Another adventure in which he was con cerned will show his turn of mind. Tlie Hon. Major Fitzfiggins, a gentleman who rejoiced in a great stock of assurance, a tolerably hand some person, and a very accommodating con science, took it into his head to jure some very marked attentions to Miss Julictia Blossom, a young lady to w horn Tweezle was engaged. These gallantries of the major towards the fair Julietta were, of course, not very pleasing to my friend IVregriue;- and it may be inferred that no great portion of goodwill subsisted be tween him and the major. Peregrine, being an easy, good-natured man, would never have insulted Major Fitzfiggins; but tlie latter, being an overbearing puppy, thought fit to ap ply an epitiiet towards Mr. Peregrine Tweezle, which,as a gentleman. Mr. Peregrine Tweezle could not do otherwise than resent. I was, in consequence, commissioned to 'rear an invi tation to the Hon. MajorTitzfiggins to taken walk to Gimlk-Fnrm on the following morning, where lie would find a cc tail person who would be most hippy to cxcamigo the polite ness of a shot with him. Major Fitzfiggins was too much of a gentlemen 10 reject so cour t reus an offer, and next .norning, accordingly, the mining took place. “Sud rascal, tiiat Fitzfiggins!” said Twee. z!c to me, as wo arrived u[»oii tlie ground. “ And a good shot!” said 1, like a Job’s comforter as I was. “I'm glad of it!” said Tweezlo, I w as about to a*.k iwu w hy, when the Hon. ; Major Fitzfiggins arrived on the field, accom i pauied by Ins second. The customary cold I and formal civilities passed between the belli, j gorems; the ground was measured by the sc -1 c unis, and the principals took their places, i’ .ere was an awful pause. Each man fired, aid each man fell! My friend Teazle was s vorely wounded in the right arm. I knelt down, and began to bondage tip his wound as well as I was ablex when the second of Fitzfiggins came up to me. Alarm and anx iety were imprinted on his couutenar.ee. ft For God’s sake!” said he, in a hurried lone. “ gentlemen, lose no time—fl}—fly * Mu. | jor Fitzfiggins is, I fear, mortally wounded.” “ Good God!” said I, “ I hope not.” “I fear so,” answered the second, shaking his head dolefully, as he turned to render that j assistance which his friend so imperatively needed. To my unsophisticated mind the as ucct of affairs was disagreeable enough.— Tweezle saw that I thought so; and, looking earnestly in my face, whispered, in a tone — “ It might have been worse." a How?” replied I, mechanically, for I was thinking whither we should proceed till the disagreeable business had blown over. “ I might have missed him!” said Tweezle, and he fainted from loss of blood. 1 I carried him in my arms to a hackney i coach that was in waiting, and we drove i.wav rapidly. 1 hree weeks afterwards we heard ! that Major Fitzfiggins was slowly recovering i from liis wound, and that no further fears were | entertained for his safety. Not so, however, with poor Tweezle. His wound had proved exceedingly difficult of cure, and at the end of a month lie lay in a very precarious state. To add to this vexation, news also reached us that the heart of the interesting and romantic Miss Jnhe'ta Blossom had been touched by the dan gers which the gallant major had undergone for her sake. Rumor added—and rumor, for once, told the whole truth—that the gentle fair one had, after a short siege, yielded her heart, and fixed a da3 - when she would yield her hand to the captivating soldier. Tuisncws, I thought, would prove too much even for the comforta ble ph.losophy of my friend, and I hesitated about communicating it to him. By some means, however, it came to his knowledge. “ What’s 3'our opinion of my wound, sir?” said he to me one day, after I had returned from a solitary saunter tbrough Bologne. ‘‘Bid enough,” said I: “but you will ra ; cover i.i three or four months.” “1 < oubt it,” replied Tweezle, “but still it might have been worse!” “ D he had killed you outright?” said I, guessing ln'3 meaning. “ Precisely so,” replied Tweezle, smiling, and looking quite happy to think he had escaped with hie, and had only received a wound \v hich would confine him for six months to his bed. “And what do 3 r ou think of womankind in general, said 1 weezle again, “and of Miss Julietta Blossom in particular?” “They arc false in general,” said I, “and Miss Julietta Blossom is false in particular.” “All!” said Tweezle, chuckling, “1 am a happy man!” “ I wish 3'ou a long continuance of 3 r our happiness,” replied I. Tweezle looked serious for a moment, and then heaved a deep sigh. “I have lost lie:!” said he. “ Miss Blossom?” inquired I. ‘•lies; and a sweet creature she was! —rich., beautiful, and well born! and I—l’ve lost her!” Tweezle made an effort to look sad. “ But it m : ght have been worse/" he added, bi h ei ing up. For mv part, I was glad to see him so cheerlul: but I could not well see what rea sons lie had for being so, and I therefore ask ed him. “ I might have married her!” said Tweezle. Ilappy, happy Peregrine! NEGRO GALLANTRY. •’ « Th' buck negroes of the North an. coming on pretty fair in pa3’i ,, g their addresses to the " 'hie lad.es. A person who was present at the burning of the Abolition Hall in Philadel puia. tells of a dark Lothario who spruced up to a beautiful white young lady, apparently 6f the first respeotabiht3’, who happened to be un attended—and, making his most condescend^ ing kind of a bow,-he addressed her thus : “ Hiss Sarah, me hab de generous honor to ac company you to dc home ob your fathers, and purtect yon from de fierce rocity ob de childrin oh dc debil lar a beheber in dc union ob co lors, and shall always go for de noxious prin ciple ob malgation. Your arm, Miss ; Ibe descended from de ben - first families ob de St. Baboons in Florida.’’ True to her princi ples, Miss Fa rah resolutely took his arm, held on to it “like grim death to a dead negro,” ! and stalked off together from the crowd, as ! much pleased to nil appearance with each oth er, as old mother Eve and the Ourang Outang ucre * Picayune. (b 7“ It is seldom wc come across poetic gems —they are so very scarce in these dull times —but when we do, they shall !*e preserved. The following is among the brightest: “ I love all Nature! Say not then Aught beautiful I spun I love to fee bright woman's eye, And—TJLLLOW CANDLES BURN !'* A SLENDER REPAST. 1 “ Have you dined ?” said a joker,one day lohis friend, “ I have, on my li« nor,” tho other replied ; j “ If you've Jined ‘on y.nr honor, the y«lrr rcpbe.l, “ I fear that your table wus poorly supplied “’ NO. 37.