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by p. c. pendletox. | Devoted to Literature, Internal Improvement, Commerce, Agriculture, Foreign and Domestic News, Amusemen*, <fcc. jc. r. ha n letter, printer. VOL. I. THE Kansas? xpcdse Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday M anting, at three dollars in advance, rot'R dollars *t the end of the year—two dollars for six months; nnd mailed to country subscribers by the earliest mails, enveloped by good strong w rappers, with legible direc tions. {Kr No subscription received for a less period than six months—and no paper discontinued, until all arrears are paid. Advertisement* will be inserted at. the usual rates of advertising, with a reasonable deduction to yearly ad- Jlelitsous, 3 hrriagt and Obituary Noticet inserted free {Or Any person forwarding a ten dollar bill, (post paid.) shall receive five copies, for one year, to be sent to different persons, as directed. {Or letters, on business, either to the Publisher or Editor, must come post paid to insure attention. A Card. DR E. L. STROHECKER offers his tervirrs as Surgeon and Physician to the inhabitants of Ma con nnd vicinity. He will attend with promptness to anv cal’s from Town or Country, by night or day. Office on Commerce Row, over Levi Ecklev's store. At night, he will be fitcnd at his room, iu the Central Hotel. July H 33tf A CARD. DOCT. WM. J. ANDERSON informs the public that he has located himself in Macon, nnd will at tend strictly to practice of his profession in the city, and country adjoining Macon. His office will bes >und over the Darien Bank, and he will be found at night at Mr. Thomas King's. April 14 25-f DR. L. A. BOND HAS taken an Office on Cotton-Avenue, over the store of Fort, Hamilton Sc Cos. where he can lie found during the day ; and at night, at his residence, Vincville. He will devote his time exclusively to Ins ■profession. June 9 33'f LAW NOTICE. S. M. STRONG AND P. C. PENDLETON HAVING formed a co-partnership in 'lie prncfice of the Law, will attend the several Courts of the Hint Circuit, and those of Twiggs and WHkeiwn, of the Oehmulgee. {CT Office in the west end of Cow les’ brick building, Commerce-Row. March 31 23 NOTICE. POE & NISRET will hereafter attend regularly the settings of the Circuit Court U. S. for the District ■of Georgia. June 16 34 *,* The city papers will copy the above until Fall. NOTICE. BEING about to remove from the State, Mr. CttAS. Collins is mv Agent, fully authorized to repre sent me in anv matter of business. JNO. RUTHERFORD. July 21 39u NOTICE. DURING our absence from the State, Mr. Thomas Harrold will act us Our Attorney. REA Sc. COTTON. July 21 39u DISSOLUTION. THE co-partnership heretofore existing under the firm of Rominsov, Wright &. Cos. is, by mutual consent, dissolved. The unliquidated claims against, •and debts due, the concern wi’i he sc'ded bv .1. H. Morgan. R. P. ROFINSON, IT. L. WRIGHT. J. H. MORGAN. July 7 37tf COPARTNERSHIP. ROBERT WHEELF.R, having associated with him Mr. Calvin G. VV heeler, will continue business in future under the firm <>f R. WHEELER A CO. ■Tune 2 32 f DISSOLUTION. PIT HE Copartnership heretofore existing between flic -I- suliscri 1 c-rs under the firm of JVn.LiAM Cooks. Sc. Cos. in the Citv of New York, and Cooke Sc. Cowles, in Macon,is, by mutual consent,dissolved. The names of the firm will be used in settlenten’ of the business, bv either party. WILLIAM COOKE, j. co truss. Macon, June 9 33 NOTICE. rpilE subscribers having sold their entire stock of A GOODS to Messrs, I ort. Bond Sc Sinclair, feel pleasure in recommending them to their former custo mers mid friends as worthy of their highest confidence, nnd would respectfully solicit for them a continuance of that kind and liberal patronage which has hitherto been so generously extended to mem; and for which they beg leave to tender their most grn’cfnl acknowl edgements. FORT, HAMILTON & CO. July 21 39;f NOTICE. THE subscribers having purchased the entire Stock of Fort, Hamilton Sc Cos., will continue the bus iness at the old stand, under the name and style of FORT, ROND & SINCLAIR, where they will keep a constant supply of all articles belonging to the DRY GOODS business. They hope to realize a continuation of the liberal patronage which has been extended to their predecessors, and to give general satisfaction to all who may favor them with their custom. I. E. FORT, L. A BOND, E. SINCLAIR. July 21 39:f NOTICE. THE subscribers have sold their entire stock of Goods to Fort, Bond Sc Sinclair, with a view of ■closing up the business of the concern with as little de lay as possible. They would therefore earnestly re quest from those indebted to them an earlv settlement; and especially from those whose debts fell due on and after the Ist of January last. Fort, Hamilton a- co. July 21 39tf NOTICE. THE Co-partnerships heretofore existing under the firm of Hamilton, Haves & Cos., and Fort, Ham ilton A, Cos. are this day dissolved. Either member of che laic firms will be authorized to receive any moneys ■due to either concern, and to sign the name of cither ■concern, for the purpose of making or receiving no'i s, ■either ns principal or endorsers, for the purpose of clew ing the business of said concerns. Ry-W. FORT, E. HAMILTON, J. R. HAYES, IRA E. FORT. July 21 e 3Jtf ~ IS-& 2 STIC 2 $7-3. THE subscriber is now prepared to execute all kinds of House, Sign anil Ornamental Painting, at his Shop, Mulberry-street, opposite the Post-Office, and one door below the Central Rail-Road Bank. • Orders, either in the city or country, thankfully recei ved and promptly attended to. DANIEL T. REA. February 10 16 CITY LICENSES. PERRONS wishing any description of Licenses, can obtain the same bv application to me, at the Post- Office. JESSt L OWEN, Clerk CounciL January 27 11 POTASH, just received and for sale by J. H Si W. R. ELLIS,Otton-Avenue. March to ■» POETRY. From the Microcosm. TO L. A. L. I'll think of thee at day’s first dawn, Os rosy tints and golden hue, When waking zephyr's fan the lawn, And softly brush the silver dew. I’ll think of thee when, riding high, The sun in noontide glory burns; When his bright beams illume the sky, • And this dark planet as it turns. I'U think of thee at evening's close, When last the sparkling sun is seen, When nature sinks in sweet reposo, When all is calm —and all ssrene. I’ll think of thee at twilight hour, While pensively and all alone, I muse upon Almighty power, And humbly kneel at God's rich throne - I’ll think of thee when silent night Is spreading out her sable robe. With neither moon nor star to light The solemn darkness of the globe. I’ll think of thee when Luna throws Her gentle beams of borrowed light; When glittering gems with lustre glow. And all is fair, and all is bright. I’ll think of thee, I’ll think of thee, When earth is clad with liv’ry green, When wild birds sing in hnppv glee, And blooming flowerets crown the scene. I'U think of thee when gaudy dies Paint verdant summer’s richest dreft; When gold and purple streak the skies. And all her burnished charms confess. I’ll think of thee when autumn's leaf By hoar nnd chilling frost is cropt; When nature’s charms, alas, how brief! By chilling blasts are blown, and dropt. I’ll think of thcc when winter’s breath Howls wildly through the distant grove; When p : ercing winds sweep o’er the heath, I’U mind thee with a sister’s love. I'll think of thee when hSiows roll, Artd swell the deep from pole to pole; When dashing waves go surging by, And send dark vapors to the sky. I’ll think of thee when thunders roar, And streams of liquid fire shall pour; When angry tempests rudely howl, Like hungry beasts of savage prowl; When youth's no more, and hope is fled; When life's last parting ray is shed, And this warm pulse beats faint and few. Then, brother dear, I’U think of you. H. I rom the New-York American. Epist’e to a Bachelor Building a House. Light up the scene, the airy chambers fill, Complacent smile—one thing is wanted s'ill. Wealth, houses, lands, may be within control, O le little void disquiets all the soul. What are the shady trees, and what the grove. If die dear birds are absent which we love 7 Their jocund sound enlivens all the scene. And gives a livlier beauty to the green. Thus, though thy mansion rise superbly chaste, In just proportions of a classic taste, If there thy bachelor steps design to roam, 'Twill natheless be a house, but not a home. A cage may be a very pretty thing, But what’s a cage if there's no bird to sing 7 Then listen to these strains divinely sent, — The wise should not be deaf to argument. Oh ! how canst them with stoic heart defy The radient smiles that break from woman’s eye 7 Those looks, now fierce, now gentle as the dove. And all the light artillery of love 7 Stand forth thou traitor to the Queen of Hearts, And be alone a Bachelor of Arts. Submit thy soul to all love’s sweet alarms, Throw off thy rebel panoply of arms. Sec from the bow the dazzling arrow p»r». Cleave the bright air, and c trike thee to the heart. Oh I if thou art not conscious of the steel, Why then—why then thou hast no heart to feel. MISCELLANEOUS. From the Emporium. THE DEATH WARRANT. The mists of the morning still hung heavily on the mountain top, above the village of Red cliflb, hut the roads which led towards it were crowded with the varied population of the sur rounding country from far and near. At Ales, bury the shops were closed, ‘he hammer of the blacksmith laid upon its anvil—not a wagon of any description was to be seen in the street, and even the bar of the tavern was locked, and the key gone with its proprietor towards the cliff, as a token of an important era which was without a parallel in the annals of the place. And save here and tliere a solitary head look, ing through a broken pane, in some closed up house, with an air of sad disappointment, or t!ie cries of a little nurseling was heard, be tokening that in the general flight, it had been left in unskilful hands, or mayhap here and there a solitary, ragged, and ill-natured school boy was seen, or a not less solitary and ill. natured dog, either seeming but half appeased by the privilege of a holiday, granted on condi. tion of staying at home; the wliole village presented a picture of desertion and silence, that had forever been unknown before. But in proportion as you drew near the ponderous cliffs, in the midst of which the little town of Rcdclifie was situated, you mingled again in the thick bustle and motion of the MACON, (Ga.) SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 28, 1838. world, of men, and women, and boys, and horses and dogs, and all living, moving and creeping things, that inhabit the wild districts of Pennsylvania. The village was crowded to overflowing, long before the sun had gained a sufficient altitude to throw its rays upon the deep valley in which it lay. There the bar of the inn was crowded, and the fumes of tobacco and whiskey the jingling of small change, and the perpetual clamor of the throng, was sufficient to rack a brain of common flexibility. In the streets there was the greeting of old and long parted acquaintances; the bartering of horses; the settling of old accounts; the buflbnry of half intoxicated men ; the clatter of women ; the crying and hallooing of children and boys, and the barking and quarrelling of stranger dogs. To look upon the scene, to mingle with the crowd, to listen to the conversation, or to survey the countenances of the assembled multitude, would lead to no satisfactory solution of the cause for which this mass of heteroge neous matter was congregated. Within the walls of the old stone jail, at the foot of the mountain, a different scene had been that morning witnessed. There, chained to a stake, in the miserable dungeon, damp, and scarcely illuminated by one ray of light, now lav the emaciated form of one whose final doom seemed near at hand. A few hours before, his wife and little daughted had travelled a hundred miles to meet him on the tl re hold of the grave—they met, and from t at gloomy vault the song of praise ascended w ith the ascending sun, and the jailor, ns lie listened to the melodious voice of three persons, whom! a looked upon as the most desolate and lost of all in the wide world, blended sweetly together, and chaunting the beautiful hymn, “ It is the Lord ! should 1 distrust Or contradict his will 7" almost doubted the evidence of his senses, and stood fixed in astonishment at the massy door. Could these he the voices of a murderer, and a murderer’s wife and child ? This brief and to be final interview had pass.* ed,however —those unfortunate ones had loudly commended each other to the keeping of their heavenly parent, and parted—he, to face the assembled multitude on the scaffold, and they, as they said, to return by weary journeys, to their sorrowful home ; the convict, worn out with sickness and watching, now slept. His name was Jason Creel, his place of resi dence said to be Virginia. He had been taken up while travelling from the northward to his home, and tried and convicted at the county town some miles distant, for the murder of a follow traveller, who had borne his company from the lakes, who was ascertained to have a large sum of money with him, and who w-as found in the room in which they both slept, at a country Inn, near Redcliffe, with his throat cut. Creel always had protested his innocence, declaring that the deed was perpetrated by someone while he w-as asleep, out the circum stances were against him, and though the money was not found on him, he was sentenced to he hung, and had been removed to the old stone jail at Redcliff* for security, the county prison being deemed unsafe. This was the day the execution was to take place—the scaffold w-as already erected—the crowd press ed round the building, and frequent cries of “ bring out the murderer,” were heard. The sun at last told the hour of eleven, rend there could he no more delay—the convict’s cell was entered by the officers in attendance, who aroused him with the information that all was ready from without, and bid him hasten to his execution—they laid hands upon him and pinioned him tight, while he looked up toward heaven in astonishment, as one new horn, and only- said, “ the dream, the dream.” “And what of the dream, Mr. Jason?” said the sheriff*. “ You would do me a great kind ness if you would dream yourself and me out of this cursed scrape.” “ I dreamed,” replied the convict, “ that while you read the death warrant to me on the scaffold, a man came through the crowd, and stood before us in a grey dress, with a white hat and large whiskers, and that a bird fluttered over him, and sung distinctly—This is Lewis, the murderer of the traveller.” The officers and jailor held a short consulta tion, which ended in a determination to look sharp after the nran in grey, with the white hat—accompanied with many hints of the re signation of the prisoner, and the possibility of his innocence being asserted by a supernatural agency—the prison doors were cleared, and Creel, pale and feeble, with a hymn book in his hand, and a mein of nil meekness and humility was seen tottering from the prison to the scaffold. Me had no sooner ascended it, than his eves began to wonder over the vast con course of people around him with a scrutiny that seemed like faith in dreams—nnd while the sheriff* read the' warrant the convict’s anxiety appeared to increase—he looked nnd looked again, then raised his hands and eyes a moment towards the clear sky, as if breathing a last ejaculation, when lo! as he resumed Iris first position, the very person he described, stood within six feet of the bidder! the prisoner’s eye caught the sight, nnd flashed with fire while he called out, “there is Lewis, tlie murderer of the traveller” and the jailor at the same moment, seized the stranger by the collar. At first he attempted to escape, but being secured, and taken before the Magistrates, he confessed the deed, detailed all tire particulars, delivered up part of the money, informed where anotlier part was hidden, and was fully com mitted for trial—while Creel was turned loose, and hastened like a nwui out of his senses, front the scaffold. Three days had clapocd—Creel had vanished immediately uf.er his liberation, when the pre tended Lewis astonished and confounded the magistrates by declaring Creel to be her hus band—that site had assumed the disguise, and performed the whole part by his direction ; that he had given her the money which he had till then succe>sfully concealed übout his per son ; and that the whole, from the prison to the scaffold scene, was a contrivance to effect his escajte, wnich having effected, she was regardless of consequences. Nothing could be done with her; she was set at liberty and neitlier her nor the husband was heard of again. From the London New Monthly. boy’s jeers. The phrase “ bored to death,” is more than a mere ntanner of speaking,* for it invokes a possibility ; to be “ bored to death,” is abso lutely literal. Here is a case in proof: Some years ago, an old man appeared at the Mansion-House, with a boy of 12 or 14 years of age, in charge of a constable. The boy was placed at the bar, and tie old man was desired to state bis complaint. The lat ter trembling from lit-ad to foot, shaking his clenched hands, stared wildly around him ; j and then turning towards the Lord Mayor, he thus addressed him: “ Please your majesty ” “ Your lordship,” said the Clerk, correct ing him. “ Yes. your lordship.” “ Not to me sir,” said tlie Clerk, sharply ; “ address yourself to my lord Mayor.” “ Now, my good man, what is your charge against that boy?” enquired the lord Mayor. ** My lord, my lord,” rep led the old man, in a tone of mingled rage and grief, “ I’m go ing mad.” “ I’m sorry for you,” said his worslup, “ hut if that is all, this is not the place you ought to come to. What have you to say against that boy?” “ That’s it my lord ; I’m going mad ; he's driving me mad, my lord; he’s driving me mad.” “ Driving you mad ! what is it he does to you ?” “ My lord, my lord,” cried tlie old man, “ lie calls me Tiddydoll, he calls me Tiddy. doll." This w-as putting the gravity even of a lord Mayor to a severe test ; but though all else who were present, and had no character for such a quality to maintain, laughed heartily, his lordship kept his countenance in a manner befitting his exalted station. “If this is all you have to say against the lad,” said tlie lord Mayor, “ it is a very foolish piece of business, and you must go away.” “ Foolish, my lord ! what, when he calls ■ me Tiddydoll? O, my lord, you can’t feel for me, if jou have never been called Tiddy doll. He has called me Tiddydoll, every day ; many times a day ; now going on for four months, and I can’t hear it any longer.” “ He is on impudent fellow ; but all I can do for you is, to advise you to keep out of his way.” “ I can’t, my lord. I can’t ; I w mid if I could, my lord ; but lie lives in our alley, ind I can't keep out of his way.” ‘•T on tie next time he annoys you bv calling you Tiddydi l. gve him a good thrash ing, and see what idle -t that will have.” ‘ It’s of no use, my lord ; I have th/ashed him, but he only calls me Tiddydoll tlie more for it.” “ Now, really, my good man, you must go away. I cannot waste more time upon such a frivolous affair. Remove him,” said the lord Mayor to ore of the officers in attendance. “ One moment,” cried the old man, “ only one moment. I want law, all I want is law, my lord.” “ Pooh, pooh 1 nonsense! the law can do nothing to help you,” and the Older to re move him wa; repeated. The poor old man, staring incredulously at the lord Mayor, said in a tone of astonishment —“ What! I’m being called Tiddydoll till it is driving me mad, and the law can do nothing to help me! Can’t it!” (and he added im ploringly,) arc you sure it can’t, my lord ?” An officer was leading him out of tlie room, when the poor old fellow, bursting into tears and clasping his forehead with his hands, cried in a tone of agony—“ Then, God must help me, or I must go to bedlam. If I’m called Tiddydoll any more I shall go mad, I shall go mad.” The lord M yor, after rebuking the const!, ble for taking so ridicu'ous a charge, gravely told the lad, that if ever again he called the old man Tiddydoll, or worried him in any other manner, lie should surely be hanged, or transported for life, at the least. Tne boy, fulling upon his knees nnd blubbering lustily, assured his admonishcr, that he “never would worry old Tiddydoll again.” * I might fbv /aeon de porter, hut I will not; because the.iii-e of *!i[i-*.p French, either in speaking or writ ing—nnd one Ims, now and then me- with it, even in a tx*ok—is a bore. Society onght to r* jeCt it. To be on ly loiera’cd upon occasion, a very atrong case ought to lie made out tor its defence. j The Javanese have atn dit on, that tl eir I first idea of Music arose from the circumstance of someone of their ancestors having heard the air moke a melodious sound, as it passed through a bamboo tube, which hung accident ally on a tree, and was induced to imitate it. Thus they fable that Music came from Hea vcn* . Love-sick TOETRY. I ring* her prniee in poetry—for her -rt mom and ret, I criee whole pint* of bitter tears, end wijve them with my si*cv« I CORN BREAD. The following true and sensible remarks are from a work on housewifery recently publislietl. We freely give our own evidence to the excellence of Corn Dodger, for wc have di gested about as much of the article as any man of three and twenty. Os all things in the eating line, for breakfast, give us about a quar ter section of dodger, a lew slices of our great staple, and about a quart of coffee, and then stand a respectable distance off, and witness the legerdemain we make use of to clear the platter in a great deal less than no time. Cincinnatiar. ‘lndian corn is one of the most wholesome articles for human sustenance in the. known world ; and it may justly be doubted whether the exclusive use of any other article, excep t wheat, would be so well adopted to develop*: our whole nature —physical and moral—as this substance. It forms a large proportion ol the food of many individuals, and even of some whole tribes of men ; and there is nothing against tlie belief, that if used in a prope: manner, it would impart full vigorof body ar.d mind, and an unusual degree of health ar.d longevity. ‘1 have recently received a letter from a respectable traveller in Europe, which con tains the fallowing statements, concerning the use of this article in the valley of the Tesin, or Tessin, in the north of Italy : ‘ln this valley,(the Tessin,) a considerable quantity of Indian corn is raised, as vve saw when we passed through it. It is said that some of the laboring classes live mostly on bread made from this corn. They live long, and are seldom troubled with disease; and labor with them is mere play. The person who related this to me, said that he saw a company of these people, last year, at work on anew road, in a canton of Neufchatel, in Switzerland. They ate nothing but this bread, and that, too. in small quanties. They were always cheerful and lively, and seemed like children at play; while some of their fellow laborers—Bernese and otliers—who ate more and different kinds of food, were not so cheer ful ; and labor seemed to be a task to them. • But we need not go to Italy or Switzerland to test the virtues of Indian corn. The Mexi can Indians, as well as many tribes of native Americans, together with many of the whites in some pnrts of America, feecTlargcly on th s article, with the happiest results. Perhaps it *;< too much to say, that where mere gust .tor, pleasure concerned, tliere is no single article in the whole range of human diet which, through a long course of years, would proouu to us so much enjoyment as the various pit parations of Indian corn—so rich, uncloyinr and delicious is it at all times, in all seasons, and in all climate*.’ The mere philosopher is a character which is commonly but little acceptable in the wo Id a. being supposed to contribute nothing either to the advantage or pleasure of society ; white he lives remote from communication with man kind, and is wrapped up in principles and no tions equally remote from their comprehen sion. On ti e other hand, the mere ignorant is still more despised ; nor is anything deem ed a surer sign of an illiberal genius in an op* and nation sphere die sciences flourish, than -to lie entirely destitute of alt relish for those Uo v entertainments. The mo3t perfect charm. issuppo ed to he between those extremes; at taining an equal ability and taste for hock., company, and business, preserving in conver sation, that discernment and delicacy which arise-from polite letters; and in business, that probity and accuracy which arc the natural result of a just philosophy. In order to diffuse and cultivate so accomplished a character, nothing can be more useful than compositions of the easy style and manner which draw not too much from life, require no deep npplica cation or retreat to be comprehended, ar.d send back the student among mankind full of noble sentiments and wise precepts, applicable to every exigence of human life. By means of such compositions, virtue becomes amiable, science agreeable, company instructive, and retirement entertaining. HOW TO MAKE A TOUB. Take your carriage—stuff it well—add four horses, or, if not to be had, a pair may do. Select two or three agreeable friends—sti them up, and put them nil into a good humoii; Throw in a light wardrobe, a large sketch book, and a heavy purse. Keep your purse, open at both ends—oil your wheels—put them in rapid motion, and add as many accident; and adventures as can be got. Boil up the whole with plenty of enthusiasm—pour it out to cool in three large volumes—let the scum run off till it be reduced to one—slit it up into chapters, and then put in into the press. A TAVERN INCIDENT. What are you about you black rascal! Twice have you roused me from my sour and sleep to tell me that breakfast is ready, oi .1 now you’ve awoke me by attempting to pui. off the bed clothes! What tlie devil do you mean ? ‘ Why, massa, if you is’nt gain to get up. 1 must hab de sheet any how,’case dey’r for the table clof ?’ SINGING BY THE LtJM T. A clergyman some time since arose in hi i pulpit, nnd gave out the psalm thus,‘Brethren, i let us sing tlie thousand and oneth psalm.’ ! A parishioner exclaimed, * there beeu’t so i manv in the book.’ ‘ Then sing as many fa there be,’ cxc laimcd the clergyman, taking h.s ! seat very complai?antly. NO. 40.