Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

BY p. c. PENDLETON, jj Devoted to Literature, Internal Improvement, Commerce, Agriculture, Foreign Domestic News, Amusement, &c. |c. r. iianleiter, printer. VOL. I. THE S@ tUftSin IBS? IP®®?? Is published in the city of Macon every Saturday Morning, at three dollars in advance, four dollars at the end of the year— two dollars for six months; and mailed to country subscribers by the earliest mails’ enveloped by good strong wrappers, with legible direc. t ions. Sir No subscription received for a less period than six months —and no paper discontinued, until all arrears are paid. Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates of advertising, with a reasonable deduction to yearly ad* Any person forwarding a ten dollar bill, (post paid,) shall receive four copies, for one year, to be sent to diflereut persons, as directed. Letters, on business, either to the Publisher or Editor, must come post paid to insure attention. 1* O E T It Y . From the United States Gazette. DEAD FLOWERS. BY CATHARINE H. WATERMAN. They lie within my hand Drooping, and pale, the summer's sweetest flowera. Garlands whose beauty deck’d the sunny bowers. A fair, and dying band. This was a blushing rose, The queen of beauty, whose bright crimson breast. Offer'd the Bee a balmy couch of rest, At summer's sunset close. This was the Lilly, pale Asa young corpse whose bosom's gentle flow Hath lost its life stream—and the gathered snow, Lies lowly in the vale. They wreathed around a brow That flash’d white brightness on the lily's leaf. Above a cheek which paled the rose with grief, Faded, aad dying now. The eye* which shone beneath Th-i coronal of ordour breathing flowers. Looks not upon thee in the festal hours, Thou poor neglected wreath. But richer blossoms meet Sound the pure beauty of the forchesd tair. Binding the shining glories of the hair, W inch their young tendrils greet. And thou art left to mourn In thy sad loneliness, like to a heart. On which neglect hsa fixed its poison’d dart, With many san owa w orn- Thy sweet and balmy breath, I« »a old feelings which fsnd memories wreathe Round that crush'd fault, o’er its hush'd hopes to breath* A fragrance after death. Thou an familiar things To my sad eyes, anti to my heap of woes, Thou faded lily, and thou wither’d rose, But old remembrance brings. With things of by-past horns I'll cherish th*e, pale melancholy leaves, Tko' my weak heart a fifth with sorrow grieves, JCuurning o’er thee, dead flowers. rwnmi as**- .r*%m MISCELL AN EOUS. BEAUTY OF SCIO. ‘ln the morning l early anti walked out upon the terrace. Nature had pul on u differ ent garb. The wi id hud fallen, and t!.e sun was shining warmly upon a scene ol softness and luxuriance surpassing all that 1 hud ever heard or dreamed ol" the beauty ot the Islands of Greece. A wax with all 1 said about Syria; skip tiie page. Toe terrace overlooked the garden filled with orange, lemon, aim vnd and fig trees; with plants, rores, and flowers of every description ; luxuriant wilderness. But the view was not confined to the garden. Looking buck to the harbor ofScio was a bold lange of rugged mountains bouuditigtl.e view on tiiat side, on the right was the sea, then calm as a lake; on both the other side, were ranges of mountains, ineguiar and pictures que in the ir appearance, verdant and blooming to their very summits; and within these limits for an extent of | erliaps five miles, were < on tinued gardens like that at my bet, filled with the choicest fruit ttees, with roses and the greatest variety of rare plants and flowers that ever unfolded their beauty before the eyes of man ; above all, the orange trees, the peculiar favorite oftlie Island, then almost in full bloom, covered with blossoms, * tom my ctevatcd po sitioti o i the terrace made tiie whole valley app “ar nn immense bed of flowers. All, too, felt the freshness and influence of the rain ; and a gentle breeze brought to me from ih s wilderness of sweets the most del etous |or fume that ever gre ;te I the senses. Dot t think me extravagant wh in 1 say that, in your wil dest dreams, you could never fancy so rich and beautiful a scei e. Even among ruins, that almost made the heart break. 1 could hard ly tear my eyes from it. It is one of the love liest spots on earth. It is emphati ally a Pa radise lost, for the hand oftlie Turk is upon it; and a hand that withers all that it touches. In vain does the Sultan invite t' c survivors, and the children made orphans In his bloody massacre, to return ; in vain do the fruits and the flowers, the sun and the soil, invite them to return; their wounds tire still bleeding, they cannot forget that the wild l<east’s paw might again be upon them, and tlieir own blood might one dt y moisten the flowers which grow over the graves of their fathers.’ Stephen’* Incident* of Travel. From the Wesleyan Methodist .Magazine. | OBSERVATIOHS ON PROGNOSTICATIONS OP THE WEATHER. I By the Rev. Adam Clark, L. L. D. F. A. S. From my earliest childhood I was bred up on a little thru), woich 1 was taught to care for and cultivate ever since 1 was ab.e to spring t.*c rattle, u.-etiie whig, manage t -e sickle, or hoidle the spade and as I tbund that much of o tr success depends upon a proper knowledge i and management of the weather, I was led j to study it ever since l waseght years of age. I bel.eve Meteorology is a natural science, and o e ofthe first that is studied ; and that every | child in tie country makes, untaught, some j progress iti it: at least so it was with me. i had actually learned, by silent observa ! tion, to form good conjectures concerning the coming weather, and on this head, to teach wisdom among those who were perfect, espe ! «ially among such as had not been obliged like me to watch earnestly, that what was so necessary to the family support , should not be spoiled by the weatlicr before it was housed. Many a time, even in tender youth, have I : watched the heavens with anxiety, examined the different appearances of the morning and j evening sun, the phases ofthe moon, the scin tillattoii of the stars, the course and color of the clouds, the flight of ti;c crow and the swal low, tiie gainltots of the colt, tiie flutterings of tiie ducks, ami ti.e loud •creams of the sea. mew—not forgetting even the line and croak ing of the frog. From the little knowledge I had derived from close ofiservation, I often ventured to direct our agricultural operations in reference to tiie coming days, and was sel dom much mistaken in my reckoning. When [ thought I had a pretty good stock of knowl edge and experience in this way, I ventured to give counsel to my neighbors.—For my kindness, or perhaps my officiousness on this liead, 1 met one day with a mortifying rebuff, j I was about ten years of age ; it was harvest j time, arid “what sort of a day tomern ow w ould be,” was the subject of conversation. To a very intelligent geutlerfian who was present, ; f stated in op|io-*it:oii to his own opm on, “Mr. 18. tomorrow w ill be a foul day." To which Ihe answered—*“Adam, how cun you tell V ’ I ! answered without giving the rule on which my prognostication was founded, “O Sir, I know’ it w ill be so.” “ You know ! bow should I you know?” “Why, Sir,” 1 pleasant replied, “Itecause I am toealhrrwise .” “Yes,” said ; he, “or otherwise" Toe next day, however, proved that my angurv was well drawn. About twenty years ago, a table, purport i ing to be the work of the late Dr. Hersehel, ! was variously published, professing to form j prognostics of ttic weather, by the times of j the change, full, and quarters ofthe moon. 1 have carefully consulted this table for several years, and was amaze iat its general aceura } ey; for though long, as you have seen, enga ged in the study of tiie weather,! never thought i that any rules co Id Ikj devised, liable to so ! few exceptions. I have made a little alteration in the arrangements, illustrated it with further oliservatious, and have sent it that yon may insert it in tlte Magazine, ns it has hitherto been confined generally to h few almanacs. A TABLE. For foretelling tin; Weather through *ll the Lunation* of each year, forever. This table and the accompanying remarks, arc the result of many years actual observation; the whole being constructed on a due consi deration of the attraction of the sun and moon in their several positions respecting the earth; and will, bv simple inspection, show the obser ver what k'lid of weather will niost probably follow the entrance of the moon, iiito anv of its quarters, and that so near the truth as to be seldom or never found to fail. If the New M-ion—the Firs* Quarter —the Full Moon —or the last Quar er, happens I Between niid-nijrlit and two ) |p a ; r Hard frost unless the in the mornint', V | r ’ wind be s. or w. Hand 4. morning, j Cold, wuh frequent show- gnow , nd monny . — — 4 and <5, “ Rain. _ Rain. 8 and 8, “ ;W*nd and rain. Stormy a i m , J Cold ruin, if wind west; 8 and 10, Changeable. | .„„w,, feast. ) !0 and 12, “ Frequent showers. Cold and high wind. At 12 o’cl-iek, M., and 2, P. .M. Very rainy. Snow or rain. Between 3 and 4, P. M. .Changeable. Fair and mild. i t , f , ) Fair and fns’y if wind w &£' f 7 f '" and *' w ’ or *. ..; rain or snow. Rainy, U s. or s. w. $ ifs.ors.w. - — ■ ■ ■' ■ 8 and 10, “ [Ditto Ditto OBSERVATIONS. 1. Tbe nearer the time of the Moon’s change, First Quarter, Full, and Last Quar ter, are to Mid-n ght, the fairer wi l the weath er be during the seven days following. 2. The space of this calculation occupies from ten at night (ill two next morninu. 3. The nenrer the Mid-day, or Noon, the phases oftlie Moon happen, the more foul or wet weather may be expected during the next seven days. 4. Tho space for this calculation occupies MACON, (Ga.) SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 20, 1838. fromteninthe forenoon to two in the after noon. These observations refer principally to Summer, though they affect Spring and Autumn nearly in the same ratio. 5. The Moon’s Change— First Quarter- Full—and last Quarter, happening duringsig of the afternoon hours, i. e. fiom four to ten. may he followed by foir weather ; but this is mostly denendent on tl)« wind, as it is noted in the Table. fi. Though the weather, from a variety of irregular causes, is more uncertain in the latter part of Autumn, the whole Winter, and the beginning of Spring, yet, in the main, the .-drove observations will apply to those periods also. 7. To prognosticate correctly, especially in those cases where the wind is concern* and, the observer should be in sight of a good vcme, where the four cardinal points ofthe heavens are correctly placed. With this precaution he will scarcely ever be deceived in depending on the Table. It is said that the late Dr. Darw in, having made an appointment to take a country jaunt with some Trends on the ensuing day, hut per ceiving that the weather would he unfavorable, sent as an excuse for not keeping his promise, a poetica'epistle containing an enumeration of most of the signs ol approaching ill weather, I have enlarged these by adding several new ones, and remodelling others ; and subjoin it ns very useful, and a thing easy to be remem bered. SIGNS OF APPROACHING FOUL WEATHER. The holloa: wind* begin to blow ; . The clouds look black, the flats is low ; The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep ; And spiders from the cobwebs peep. Last night the sun went pale to bed j The moon in halos hid her head ; The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, For see, a rainbow spans Ihe sky. The i eallsare damp, the ditches smell. Closed is the pink-eyed pimpemett. Hark ! how the chairs and tables crack. Old Betty's joints are on the rack ; Her corns with shooting pains torment her, And to her bed untimely sent her. Loud quacks the ducks, the sea-fowls cry, The distant hills are looking nigh. How resiless are the snorting swine ! The busy flics disturb the line. Low o’er the grass the swallow wings ; The cricket too, how sharp he sings! Fuss on the hearth, with velvet paws. Sits wiping o’er her whiskered jaws. The smoke from chimneys right ascends ; Then spreading, back to earth it bends. The wind unsieadv veers around, Or settling in the south is found. Through the clear stream the fishes rise, And nimbly catch the incautiou-’./fiV*. The glow worms, numerous, clear and bright, Illumed the dewty hill last night At dusk the squallid toad was seen. Like quadruped, stalk o’er tt e green. The whirling wind the dust obeys, And in the rapid eddy plays Til e frog has changed h» yellow vest. And in • russet coat is dressed. The tty is green, the *ir is Will j The mellww blackbird’s voice is shrill ; The dog, so altered is his tas'c, Quits mutton bines, on grass to feast. Behold the rooks, how odd their flight. They imi'a e the gilding kite. And seem precipitate to fall, As ifthey lelt the piercing ball. The tender colts on back do lie. Nor heed the traveller passing by. In fiery red the sun doth rise, Then wades through clouds to mount the skitt, 'Twill surely rain, we see't with sorrow. No working in the field* tomorrow. SWEET HOME. The following striking pnssenges are from the ‘ Journal of the late Mrs Sophia Manning Phillips,’ a charming writer and |>oetess, who died several months since, in Louisville, Ken tuck v : ‘ Home—beloved and early home—l bil the hail again ! Changed as thou art from constant cheerfulness to tiie shadow of sor. row ; lost, blessed scene ! as is thy sound of blithe voices, and laughter, and music, and harmless, kindly mirth, my very heart is glad lad, t.tough the tear is in my eye—to return among thy still and dear famd .tr things. God! how tney ris ; up, and speak to me, as with a voice! I hear the echo of my childhood’s laugh, ter? I see the gleaming faces of my happy childhood’s mates! I hail anew the wonder oftlie waters! I chase the startled wings of fleeing but terfl es. Dear, ho!y home! might 1 but die within thy well known sight! But if lam to leave thee, I will tear from my bosom, for the sake of him that loveth me, all wild and haunting memo ries. Not once hereafter will I reck the dark corner, to gather up thjr vanished blessedness, to count thy hoarded hours of merry times and f i es h—to see thee as thou tecrl, my home, and weep ! ‘1 know no* wherefore, but this Sunday af ternoon reminds me more strongly and strange, lv than common, of olden words and days. TThe warm air is abroad, mocking the rain of dismal February ; the snow patters from the eaves in twinkli ig drops ; the S'i» —-just like tt e sun of other days!—is on my liead, I think of thee, my lo>t,and sainted ! of toe hea. ven spread out in peace and love above mire eyes; of the earth, with all its vanished or forth coming tribunes, or ties, ortrinls, stretch, ing beside and beyond me. So the winter is rolling onward and away. The Spring! Perchance she even now seeketh her buds, to awaken their slumber, and her breezes to at. tune them to melody. She looketh, perchance, to her skies, that their tint be forever unmatch ed *—to hor floods, that they bound uudelny- KOOK. tills or CHANGE. | IV SUMMER. | IS WINTER. it* g, ere long at her call! These shall be s jpiiread over the sweet earth a pathway ol gT ■~eenness, and we that live on its bosom, shall -*»tch along its valleys for feet which come and listen among its pleasant sounds for v< which arise not. And this is the cup w « all must drink, and in our turn le mour ed fc» r i day, and missed for a dnv, and go down t« m the dust and the grave !—Who will weep a r~ad stay for me, when my hour cometh ? I^fcirlmpsDoi-e! This is a bitter and sad thought were Ito dwell u, on t; but when the li * - »ie indeed is at hand, when the breath is go ir» away, and the eyes; can no more lift up th»«*rnselvcs to earth or lieaven, mid tiie memo, or scenes of the life that is leaving us are and unrecognized—-it matters little, I whose hand is on our head, or whose t glowing lip is pressed to ours—the fading arm <i the cold ! It matters rot! • Thy latest ben m, descending sun, Falls to my page from yonder heaven ; I gaze—l yearn—*tis vainly done! Nor sound nor signal thence is give*. The souls of those who lose and love, May spread their holy w ings around, Earth whispers—but above, Beck’neth no finger, breaks no sound. I sec the summoned stars alone, Gathering iu silence round the throne.’ LOVE. —A singular book has lately made its appear ance in Loudon. It is called “ABt ok of Ti »oughts”—it must be a rare book indeed, fosr~ books without thoughts are rather fashion ably e now-a-days The following is a part of a <z=hapter—it is rich: [N. 0. Picayune. “There is a fragrant blossom, that niaketh glr* <j the garden ofthe heart : its root lieth deep ; it is delicate, yet lasting as -xhc lilac crocus of autumn. ZMjonelihcss aud thought are the dews that W'c*_ _ *er it morn and even : and absence clrerish it, as the bal breathings of the South : M tssun is the brightness of affection ; and it blo~orneth in the borders of hope. Mts companions are gentle flowers, and the withcreth by its side. ft saw it budding in beauty ; I felt the magic of Fts smile: 'J'lieviolet rejoiced beneath it; the rose stooped down and kissed it. ud 1 thought some cherub had planted the- re a truant flower of Eden. bird bringeth forth seeds, that they may flot-arisli in a kindly soil : ft saw, and asked not its name; l knew no lat* -v;uage was so wealthy, “Enough every heart of every clime findeth its echo within. yet what shall 1 say ? Isa sordid man caj » able of Love? ft—lath a seducer known it ? Can an adul tery—r perceive it ? <l3r lieth t seeketh strange women, can he feel its purity ? ft Tr he that changeth often, can he know its trut h? Hanging for another’s happiness, yet often dest*- roving its own ; l ; haste, and looking up to God, as a sou i tair * oftenderress and joy ; yet flowing deep, as tiie shrine among riv& rs; ft casting, and knowing not change—it wal ket 1 a with Truth and Sincerity. I M'thelove ofthe heart is blighted, it bud detf-» not again. I -tf' that pleasant song is forgotten, it is to be tear- *it no more; etoften will thought look back, and weep ove *- early ass ction, rid ihe dim notes of that pleasant song w ill lie t weard asa reproachful spirit, jEolian strains over the desert oft* »e heart, here the hot siroccos of the world havw witk*.ercd its one oas s. DEFINITIONS. Est ait—Compliments and flattery. Est ridge—Something worn to manifest ones gritswhich could not otherwise be discovered. Est all Dancing—Th frisk of reason and the wer* w of soles. Ift anishment —Involuntary Em grut on. S-^ard—Something which men pretend to and are ashmed to wear. Eft«ast— \ temperate animal, very unjustly cotr-» jiaredwitha drunkard. Ift^?auty—Poison lor hearts and slave for van *•«>’. Ift-«t—A method of enforcing what is doubt ful. ft'■got—An individual who venerates his crrck w*. Ift i rth—All that is vuluablc in some men’s repu* nation. fft*jttle-..Thc foundation of fashionable wit. Ift wisiness—Borrowing and lending. K**ALP A KILLIAN OF DOLLARS IN BETS. Cft -9W' of the most melancholy signs of times ' we t~mnvt seen is the fact, hat over half a mil ' hon Dollars are staked in bets in Pennsyl vania*, on the result of that Election. We trusft in God tiie day is coming, when it will be a Sr *=ate’B Prinson oflence to bet money on the resafttof an Election. It is odious, wicked, ganr* filling, ten thousand times more fearful to the w-wrernis ofthe community than all the Ron lette Tables or Gambling Hells in Paris, or Lorx «don, T*ftmnksgiving Day will lie observed through out ftMauachuseU* ou the 29th of Nov, uaxt. ISRAELITES OF MOUNT LEBANON. Edward Daniel Clark, one of the most pleas, ing of our modern descriptive travellers, and whose lamented death occurred in 1822, in the course of his life visited various countries, and has left behind him many works of great interest. About the beginning ofthe present century he travelled through Russia, Egypt aud Palestine, every where making such ob* servatons on the character and manners of these nations as might have been expected from a gentle nan of refined feeling and a scholar. When in Palestine, he v sited Jeru. salem, Nazareth, Bethlehem, and the Lake of Genneser th, near which he enjoyed an oppior* tunity of conversing with a party of Druzes. Almost every traveller in Syria has given us some new particulars resp cting this curious people. “They are,” says Clark, “the most extraordinary people on earth—singular in the simplicity of their lives, by their strict in. tegrity and virtue. They only eat what they earn by their own labor, and preserve at this moment the superstitions brought by the Isia elites out of Egypt. What will be your sur prise to learn, that every Thursday tlicy ele vate the molten calf, before which they pios trate themselves, and having paid their adora tion, each man selects a wife from among the women present. Th.; calf is of gold, silver, or bionze. This is exactly that worship at which Moses was incensed in descending fiom Sinai. The cow’ was the Venus of tiie Egytians, and of course the calf was a Cupid, before w hich the sacrifices so offensive to Moses were held. It is related that they set up a molten calf,which Aaron had made from the earrings of the Israelite women, before wdiich similar sacrifi* ces were made. And certainly the Druzes on Mount Lebanon are a detachment of the prosperity of those Israelites who are so often represented in scripture as deserted from the true fait , falling back into the old superstitio i and pagan worship ofthe country from whence they came. I took every method necessary to ascertain the truth of this relation—and I send it to you as one of the highest antiquities, and most curious relics of remote ages, winch has yet been found upon earth.” The wreath of the bard may wither—the creations of the sculptor may moulder into dust, —the throne of the greatest conqueror may Ire shivered, by an opposing power into atoms —the fame of the warrior may no longer be hymed by the recording minstrel—the hopes of the youth may be disappointed—but that which hallows the cottage and sheds glory around the palace, virtue, shall never decay. It is celebrated bv the angels of God—it is written on the pillars of heaven and reflected down to earth. The rock-cracker who pos sesses it, is more noble than the intriguing statesman. I would rather be in his place. I would rather have the “ inward glory” with which that poor man “is crowned,” than overshadow tfie world with my martial banners. I would not exchange his lot for the reputation of a Raphael—the inspiration of a Byron—the eloquence of a Mirabeau—or the intellect of a Byron. 1 may be despised here, but if I pos. sess it tlien shall I tower above them all, when the guilty shall tremble in tlieir secret places as they Ixihold “the hea ens rolled together as a scroll.” Lous. Regie*er. There is too little charity extended to Na. polcon. He was in heart a republican, nor did he desert the shrine of freedom until cir. cumstances compelled him to adopt the impe rial purple. He could have controlled tl* wild horse; ofthe deserl with a thread, or bound the wings oftlie eagle with a cobweb, sooner than have governed fierce ardent, atheistical France by a democratic constitution. He stood on a burning volcano, desjiotic power alone could quench its mighty fires. We do not vindicate his entire course, but we find rwW) t<v extenuate his actions. Was not Italy bettered b, his victories ? Was not Spain more wisely governed when Joseph Bonaparte swayed its scepre, than when the Imbecile Charles wore the crown 1 D*d not Paris reap a great many literary advantages by a change from Louis to Napoleon ? Marsh and Soult has received permission to remove the bones of tiie great man to France. T(»ere they should rest. He embellished Paris with his victories and her bosom should bold one, who ever loved the land of his adoption. ibid. THE BEST WAY TO TEACH. It was once said by the French philosopher Diderot, “ tiiat the best way to edicate a child is to tell it stories, and let it tell stories to you.” There is so much true phi’osophy in this re* m uk, we will extend a little. There is a school-room education, and an ambulating or walking education ; the one is obtained out of tiie book on the ben h; the other from walking among and talking of tilings. And we believe that this out-* oor in struction has been too much neglected ; edu cation having been conducted on the principle of looking out of the window at things, in. stead of visiting objects, and learning their pro perties and uses. Ttie student, for example, looking out of his college window at the horse, can give five or six names to the animal: oi ein Latin, one in Greek, another in German, and then the French name, &c. The stable-boy can give but oue name; yet which knows the most of the p.operties, nature, disposition, and uses of the horse ? Education consists too much in merely naming things, when it should relate more t» their properties aud use*. It should connect NO. 52.