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what earlier thau his accustomed hour, to take his usual walk before breakfast. 'V hilc wait ing for his return, a livery servant rode up to the door, delivered a letter, and putting spurs to his horse, galloped oir inuneJiatcly towards Louden. The letter was for Mrs. Coventry, and in the handwriting of her husbaud ! Its contents confounded her. • Mr beloved Sarah, • Come to me without k>«s of time, I would -spare you the sliock—but l shall be happier when 1 Itear from your own lips that you will bear your trial with resignation. Come, the instant von receive this. Lose not a moment 1 beseech you.’ She neither wept nor raved, as, with blood less check, and a palpitating heart, site read these tearful words. •\V imt can have hap penedbreadied io a stilled whisper, was all that fell from her;'and she pressed her hand upon her brow, to quell tiie furious beating of her temples. The next instant, hastily folding up tiie letter,'site prepared to obey its melan choly summons. A postscript directed her whither she was to go ; a post-chaise was soon at the door ; and silent, as one bereaved-of speech, tearless, as the infant that sleeps its first sleep ol life beside its joyful mother, this grief-stricken • creature, who had hailed that morning with strangely, blended feelings of bridal and mater nal pride and happiness, now pursued her sail journey! The distance was but a few miles. In less than half-an-hour she was at the place indicated—a small road-sidt public house. There, in a low white-washed roo n, meanly furnished, dark and dirty, laid ett a miserable bed in one corner, she saw—no —the ghastly object before her, so hideously disfigured, she could not believe was the Same idolized being who. had quitted her side, only a few short hours,,high in health, and in the full flush of manly grace and vigour. But that outstretched hand—and the motion of it, for her to approach and the piteous expression of those eyt s, which I still spoke a language whose mute eloquence had so often thrilled through her soul, revealed the appalling truth. And then it was, the an guish she had borne so meekly burst forth. She clasped the extended hand—she looked at the mutilated face—she knew her husband— and her agony was expressed in loud lamenta-1 tlons and long weeping. While she mourned, George Coventry breathed his last. He had gone out that morning to fight a duel—the challenger, not the challenged. Two shots were exchanged ; the seconds interfered ; but Major Coventry was immovable; he would not acknowledge he had received satisfaction till one or both took effect. In the third fiie, the ball ofCap tain Beverly struck him in the mouth, shatter- : ed it frightfully, and taking and oblique direc tion, passed out behind the left ear. He fell; was conveyed to the nearest public-house; and a surgeon sent for, who immediately pro nounced upon the mortal nature ofthe wound. When he heard this, he signified by motion that he wished for pen, ink, and pa ter. The first thing he wrote was, ‘Can I be removed home?’ Thesuigeon assured hm that any attempt to move him would hasten his death, by increasing the effusion of blood. He then, with much difficulty, traced the few lines to his wife. They were given to Captain Bever ly’s servant to convex, and lie w,is ordered by his master tb proceed afterwards to town, with all possible speed, and return with an eminent surgeon wkofn he named. Here were havoc and desolation ! A noble, heart, struck at by death—a gentle and a lov ing one, smote by -sorrow even in the fulness of its joy! Alas! there is no treachery in life so to be feared, as the treachery of life it self. Tne day that has passed prosperously, let it challenge our gratitude ; hut for the com ingone, wrapped in shadows, welcome it with trembling. Each minute has its allotted dis. pensation of misery to countless thousands. T.iis we know, and it is all. Who among us is warned of that which brings his own ? It was a sharp aggravation of tiie sufferings of Mrs. Coventry, that her husband’s wound disabled him from speaking. To lijtve heard his voice once more—to have been blessed by him—to have received his parting benediction for their child, would, she vainly imagined, have been some mitigation; though, in truth, her Incessant recurrence to this thought was only the melancholy indulgence of that strange pleasure which sorrow finds (for sorrow has its voluptuous enjoyment) in cherishing itself, in deepening the sources of its tears, and re fusing to l>e comforted. In the evening of this miserable day, as she sat weeping by her now widowed hearth, she drew aside the curtains of the cradle where Her infant'slept. They had been tastefully ornamented with festoons of white satin ribbon —<t portion of that same ribbon which had adorned herself at the alt tr —thus, in all her thouglHs, still mingling those • two blissful recollections of her short life of happiness— the briue and the mother. They were recol lections still J hut blissful ones no more. Every feeling that had made them so, seetn :d blotted from her heart by the sudden affliction which had destroyed their living source. Site bent over the slumbering innocent, and, in a voice that bespoke the depth of her anguish, exclaimed,«Our only child ! I ever knew it would, bo thus!’ Then, after a pause, during which she had gazed without a tear, she added, in a lower tone, but breathed with such touch ing tenderness as might beseem a pitying an gel, ‘ Poor soul ! —and this is thy first birth day? An orphan, now in thy very cradel—a a tlirng hireafter- for charity’s cold smiles' God be merciful to tfiee, my sweet boy, when 1 am gone!’ % God was merciful. He strengthed the fain ting spirit of the mourner; and slie lived to shelter her ‘ only one’ from that cold smile of 'charity, which proud benevolence, or com passion, kindled at the shrine of duty, beslows on the unfortunate. Tito burden was heavy, but not-insupportable'; the trial was exceeding tribulation, but not utter despair ; for He who newt them, vouchsafed fortitude to liear the one ami bp - > ,e ). hojie-into tne soul to assuage tiie otlier. . . •. it was, in truth, a severe blow. Tub Cot TAGE, with all its endearing recollections at Iter first connubial home— with all those attach, j menu which tiie mind forms even to inanimate objects, when some circumstance or other, still j loudly Remembered. gives tliem a place jn the j ; heart—had to be relinquished for an humble edging in tiie outskirts of the metropolis. Here Mrs. Coventry took up her abode, as j poor as virtue, and almost as fr-endiess ; for site shunned, rather than sought—not from j false pride, but from proud economy—those a ho* in her better days, had been tiie guests or acquaintance of lier husband. This resolution j was early taken, and it was easily kept. There ; were many who expressed their wonder as to • what had become of poor Mrs. Coventry and ! her child but none who devoted half-an-hour to enquiries which would have conducted tliem to the widow's dwelling. All were * sorry that so amiable and excellent a creature —so gifted and so fascinating too —should have met with such a sad reverse, and wished they knew how t oy could serve her;’ but they bore their sorrow with edifying resignation, and exhibi ted an exemplary forbearance in not seeking to gratify their wishes. A few short months s tw the end of their wondering, their sorrow ing, and their wishing; and if‘poor Mi's. Coventry, and her child’ ban lived mid died during the Saxon Heptarchy,they could scarce ly have been less remembered. Small as was the pittance oil which she now had to subsist, she contrived, by such self de nials as ire known only to honorable poveity. to put aside a little, every year, as a sacred fund for her child’s future education, when he should be of ail age to derive full benefit from instructions, which she well knew would &• too costly to be defrayed out of her current income. This plan was commenced long before she could possible judge whether his natural endowments would repay her provi- - dent love. But it seemed to impress upon that love the inspiration of a higher power, when, as he advanced in years, there was an une quivocal developement of mental faculties surpassing her most sanguine expectations. Charles Coventry was indeed, no ‘common boy.’ Still less was he one of those very com mon prodigies, who astonish us while they are ten years old, and because they are ten years old, but grow up every-day men and women; little runaways and stragglers, who get the start of Time at the beginning of their journey and when overtaken by the steady oUI gen tlemen, find themselves left behind all the rest of it. Nature had been prodigal in her gifts. There was much of youthful beauty in his person ; and he was gentle in his disposition, save when crossed, as he might think, ca priciously or despitefully; and then, the haughtiest rebel to submission which a proud and daring spirit ever made. He had great energy of character; felt on the instant what it was he would like to do, and on the instant determined whether and how he would do it. At school, remarkable rather for certainty than celei ity in his studies, his class-fellow’s would sometimes take the lead, and keep it for a while, but in the end he was always above them, and never lost an inqji of the ground lie once gained. His reading was of every thing; a book was a book to him, as any meat is a meal to a hungry man ; and before he was twelve years old, he had read ‘The Whole Duty of Woman,’ * Salmon’s Chirurgery,’ ‘ A Brief Treatise of Testaments and Last Wills,’ ‘ Hobbes’s Eccameron Physiologicuni,’ and.an ‘Alphabetical Book of Physical Se crets,’ which were the property, and happened to be-the entire library, ofthe old lady in whose house his mother lodged. It would feebly express Mrs. Coventry’s feelings, as she watched the opening character of her son, simply to say, they were a parent’s. When all the love of which the heart is capa hie, is concentrated upon one object—when all those sympathies and affections which em brace husband, kindred, children, friends,are called home, as it were, and made to twine themselves about a single being, it is, as it were, and made to twine themselves about a single being, it is hardly possible to conceive the degree of their intensity. This was her case. Had the boy been as much beneath the ordinary standard of personal and mental excel le' ce, as he was certainly above it, it is not likely there would have been one jot of abatement in this intensity, for love sees more perfections than the judgement can catalogue. But, challenging admiration, as he did, from strangers ; the theme of praise with all ; the favorite of every one, what could a proud and happy mother do, bat as she gathered in this tribute, adding it to the store which was al ready great, let her heart o’erflow with its joy. ful treasure? And she did so, even to the excess that brings agony ; for she grew a worshipper of that which, as ‘ a vapour, ap peareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.’ She could hardly be said to live, or have her being, in any sense distinct from the life of her darling hoy ; and the thought of what a shadow it was in which her soul found its sum of earthly contentment, would often make her most sad in her very happiest mo ments. Her constant prayer to Heaven was, that she might live to see him take root where he was to flourish, when she herself should de cay and go down to the grave. {Tobe Continued.) NEWSPAPER LITERATURE. We perceive by the Charleston papers, that D. K. Whitaker, Esq., the former talented editor ofthe Southern Literary Journal, is giv ing lectures on the press. They are spoken of as highly eloquent and instructive. The theme is a fruitful one, and in such hands can not fail to be most attractive. We are glad to see that Mr. Whitaker is endeavoring to reseusitate the Southern Review. Southern Literature is much neglected ; and we fear it will be long ere that attention is bestowed upon it which it deserves. Savannah Georgian. Perhaps no quality has been more fatal to the interests of Christianity than prejudice. It is the m >ral cataract of tiie human mind. In vain the meridian sun of truth darts its full lx;ams. The mental eye is impervious to the strongest ray. When religion is to Iks assailed prejudice know s how to blend antipathies. It Vdgued those mutual enemies, Herod and Pi l ate, in one common entire, and led the Jew* 10 prefer a robber to the Saviour. iltnnsh More. Tiie more a rnitn resembles God, the man [ will his conduct ue ceiiauiod Ly ance and [Pri*- UMa. TIIE SOUTHERN POST. From the (London) Gentleman’9 Magazine. HISTORY OF THE BRITISH POSSESSIONS IN THE EAST INDIES. BY R. M. MARTIN, ESQ. The author has comprised much interesting and valuable information in a small compass. He has commenced with an account of the rise and progress of the British power in India the conquest of the territories under the presi deucy of Bengal, with the wars with Sciudiali, Hoikar, and the Burmese conquests; then follows an account of tint Madras presidency, and the wars with Hvder and Tippo ; the Bombay presidency, and the Mahrutta con federacy ; concluding with the stipendiary princess and the subsidiary states. The civil aud political history being thus closed, the author enters into the subject of tiie physical aspect of India, its geography, rivers, moun tains, and geology, climut;, and natural pro ductions ; he then gives a short statistical view of the population, and the character and dis tinguished features of the people, their appear ance and stature; and lastly, enumerates the varieties of languages' used in India, with their filiation. The work is very well written, and very interesting; though tiie nature of it, as an abridgement, lias prevented the author entering, as we could have wished, more into the details of the policy of our different states men and governors, and of the brilliant and scientific campaigns of our commanders. We should have contented ourselves with thus giving our opinion ofthe work, as a specimen from it would not serve to display its merits, which consist in the general distribution, management, and arrangement of the mate rials, affording much information in a small compass, and adjusting the quantity to the im portance ofthe subject; but we have been too much interested in the account of the Jugglers not to lay before our readers some specimens of their unaccountable dexterity; which, ap pearing like tiie fables of a dream, or visisns of the fancy, are real and authentic, and, there fore. form a curious chapter in the history of the human mind and its achievements. We no more pretend to account for these marvel, ous performances than the writers who have witnessed and recorded them; but we may remark, that- undoubtedly they are based on this fact, that the power of muscular movejnent in the I'nibs can be acquired, of such quickness that the eye is for 100 slow to keep puce with it : this being the case, and as an image remains on the retina after the body has been removed, the eye under such celerity of change presented to it, has not the capacity of’such accurate vision as will enable it to detect the imposition. But such marvelous quickness can only arise from the greatest possible flexibility of limbs allowing such rapid and invisible movement; and accordingly, such feats are only perform ed by the natives of the East, the stiff and i muscular make of the European body not al lowing any thing like a ne;,r approach to the power required. We shall now transcribe some of these details. “ One ofthe men, taking a large earthern vessel with a capacious month, filled it with water, and turned it upside down, when all the water flowed out, hut the .moment it was placed with the mouth upward, it always be came full. lie I lien emptied it, allowing any one to inspect who chose. This being done, he desired that one of tiie party would fill it. His request was obeyed. Still, when lie re versed the jar, not a drop of water flowed, and upon turning it, to our astonislnwnt it was empty. These, and similar deceptions, were several times repeated ; and sa skilfully were they managed, that although any' of us that choose were allowed to upset the vessel when full, which I did many times, upon re versing it, no water to be seen, and yet no appearance of any having escaped. I ex amined the jar carefully when empty, but de tected notiiing which could lead to a discovery of the mystery. I was allowed to retain and fill it myself, still upon taking it tip, all was void within: so that how the water had dis appeared, and where it had been conveyed, were problems which none of us were able to expound. The vessel employed by the juggler upon t lis occasion was tiie common earthen ware ofthe country, very roughly made ; and in order to convince us that it had not been especially constructed for the purpose ofaiding hir clever deceptions, he permitted it to be broken in our presence. The fragments were then handed round for the inspection of his Highness, and the party present with him. The next thing clone was still more extraordi nary ; a large basket was produced, under which was put a lean, hungry Pariah bitch. After the lapse of about a minutethe basket was removed, and she appeared with a litter of seve 1 puppies. These were again covered, and upon raising the magic basket, a goat was presented to our way. This was, succeeded by a pig in the full vigor of existence but which after feeing covered for the usual time, appear ed with its throat cut. It was, however, shortly restored to life under the mystical shade of the wicker covering. What render ed these sudden changes so extraordinary was, that no one stood near the basket but the juggler, who raised and covered the animals with it. When he concluded his exploits, there was nothing to he seen under it, and what became of the different animals which figured in this singular deception, was a ques tion that puzzled all. A man now took a small bag of brass balls, which he threw one by one into the air, to the number of thirty-five. None of them appeared to return. When he he had discharged the last, there was a pause for at least a minute. He then made a varietv of motions with Ins hands, nt the same time grunting forth a sort of barbarous chant. Ii i few seconds the balls were seen to full, one by one, until the whole of them were replace in the bag, this was repeated at least half; lozen times. No one was allowed to conn near him while this interesting juggle was per formed. A gaunt-looking Hindoo then steppe; forward, and declared he would swallow s make : opening a box. he produced u Cobr li Capello, not less than five feet long, and a big as an infant’s wrist. He stood, howeve apart, at some distance from us, and, like hi redecessors, would not allow any one to up proa.ih him, so that the deception became m 'onger equivocal. He then, os it appeared 1. is, took the snake, and putting its tail into hi nouth, gradually lowered it into hia stomach ' until nothing but the bead appeared to project j from between his lips, when, with a sudden gulp, lie seemed to complete the disgusting i process of deglutition, and to secure the odious | reptile within tiis body. After the expiration jof a few seconds he opened his mouth, and i gradually drew forth the snake, which lie re | placed in the box. The next thing that engaged our attention ; was a feat of dexterity altogetlier astonishing. ' An elderly woman, the upper part of whose body was entirely uncovered, presented herself ; to our notice, and taking a bamboo, twenty feet high, placed it upright upon a flat stone, and then, without any support, climed to the lop of it with surprising agility. Having done this she stood upon one leg on the point of the bamboo, balancing it all the while. Round her waist she had a girdle to which was fasten, ed an iron socket. Springing from her up right position on the bamboo, she threw her self horizontal y forward with such exact pre cision that the top of the iron pole entered the socket of her in n zone,mid in this position" she spun herself round with a velocity that made nie giddy to lo look at, the bamboo ap pearing all the while as if it were supported by some preternatural agency. She turned her legs backward until her heels tdnehed her shoulders, and grasping the ankles in her hands continued her rotation so rapidly that the out- ] line of her body was lost to the eye, and she looked like a revolving ball. Having fier fomied other feats equally extraordinary, she slid down the elastic shaft, and raising it in the air, balanced it on her chin, then on her hip, and finally projected it to a distance from her without the application of her hands. The next performer spread upon the ground a cloth about the size of a sheet. After a while it seemed to he gradually raised ; upon taking it up there appeared three pine apples grow ing under it, which were cut Jjand presen ted to the spectators. This is consider ed a common juggle, and yet it is perfect- j ly inexplicable. A man, who in 1829 seated himself in the air without any apparent support, excited as much in'erest and curiosity as the automaton chess-player who astonished all Europe a few years ago. Drawings were exhibited in all the India paj»ers, and various conjectures formed respecting the secret of his art, but.no very satisfactory discovery was made of the means by which he effected an apparent impossibility. The bodies of the Madras jugglers are so little and supple as to resemble those of serpents rather than men. An artist of this kind will hold a ladder up right on the ground, and wind himself in'and out through the reunds until he reaches the top, descending in the same manner, keeping the ladder, which has ho support whatever, in a perpendicular position. Some of the most accomplished tumblers will spring over an enormous elephant, or five camels abreast. Swallowing the sword is a common opeiation, even, "by those who are not considered to be the most expert; and thev have various other exploits with naked weapons of a most frightful nature: a woman—for fe males are quite equal to men in these kinds of feats—will dip the point of a sword in some black pigment; the hilt is then fixed firmly in the ground, and after a few whirls in the air.’ the artiste takes off a part of the pigment with i her eyelid! A sword and four daggers are! placed in the ground, with their edges and | points upward, at such a distance from each other as to admit a man’s head between them. The operator then plants a cimiter firmly in the ground, sits down behind it, and at a hound throws himself over the cimiter, pitching his head exactly in the centre, between the daggers | and, turning over, clears them and the sword. Walking over the naked edges of sabres seems I lo be perfectly easy, and some of these people will stick a sword in the ground, and step upon the point in crossing over it. A more agreea i hie display of the lightness and activity which would enable the performers to tread over flowers without bending them, is shown upon j a piece of thitl linen cloth, stretched out slightly i in the hands of four j arsons, which is traversed without ruffling it, or being forced front the grasp of the holders. The lifting of heavy weights with the eyelids is another very dis gusting exhibition. Some ofthe optical de ! ceptions are excedingly curious and ingenious, I am to this day puzzled to guess how plants j and flowers can he instantaneously produced | from seeds. I have witnessed juggling feats j in Bengal, and other parts of India, equally as extraordinary as the foregoing, and equally difficult to account for.” HISTORY OF EVENTS THAT NEVER HAPPENED. D’lsraeli, in his “Curiosities of Literature,” has a chapter on this subject. He mentions but two such events. Livy alludes to Alex ander’s projected invasion of Italy, and then giving loose to his imagination, descants beau tifully upon what would have been the proba ble consequence, if he had put his design into execution. After the Saracens had been expelled from Spain, Eude, a discontented noble, formed a conspiracy, which was timely discovered, to re-admit them and subvert the Spanish cm kneel in a church, would be piostrating them selves in a mosque. Another and better example might be given. In 1637, Cromwell was on board a vessel to emigrate to America, when he was stayed bv order of council. If l>e had come, the royal cause triumphing in the struggle that ensued, the king’s prerogative would have swallowed up the rights of the people, and the English constitution would not exhibit, as it now c?oes, in almost perfect model. We may easily im cine, too, what a different character a man of Cromwell’s vast and restless genius would have riven to this country. Instead of offering to he world a lesson of liberty, America would, n all probability, lie groaning at this moment, rnder the yoke of a despot. * The London Age any* there are two very hstinct classes in society in England ; the no. lility and a-bility. Tliere is one more de-bility. jj. 0 . Time* I Miss Caroline F. () n ,e of Boston, in a piece* ■flier poetry lately published, thinks that the I '■ought of eariy death, is “sndlv beaut ful.”l We think ourselves, it is rather sad—we' aven’t looked into the beauty of it yet—when i we de we’ll let Iter know. i PICAYUNE ANA. The editor of the Cuicinatti News rnct with a couple of sev ere losses at the great ball, viz: his heart and hat ! \V hether lie parried his lieart in his hat or not we are unable to say, but editors are in the habit of stowing almost every thing there. Waiting for Dinner.— What punishment inflicted by the laws is so severe, so irksome, as that of being compelled to stand before a door for an hour, after having lost your breakfast, ami taken your wine and bitters, and wait for the ringing of the dinne. hell ? None. We believe that if our legislators would only make a punishment of it, and in stead of sentencing a person to spend a certain time in solitary confinement, to compel him to devote two hours each day waiting for his dinner, standing, and on an empty stomach, it would be a greater prevention of ermine. It is one of those punishments which is felt. An Old Stager. —The eastern papers are continually tel ing lough yarns about the npm. her ot miles their old sea captains have travelled on the ocean, in making their trips to different countries. Now wo know a steamboat “ Capting” at present in this citv who has made one hundred and seventy trips from Louisville to Nevv-Oileans and hack ! Ton of these trips were made down the river on a keel boat—eight times the keel boat was worked the whole distance hack, and twice he walked from this city to Louisville through the wilderness. He was employed on the first steamboat ever launched on Western waters, and has been on them so much since that, in river parlance, he has got to be a 4 ‘ regular steamboat” himself. He now looks hearty and young enough, with the present advantages of travelling by steam, to make as many more trips ; and such is his general character for good humor, that when he laughs, as he al ways does at a good joke, fears have been entertained that he would shake the cylinder timbers of his engine o it of place. The distance fro.n this city to Louisville is called, by river n>cn, fifteen hundred miles, so that this veteran has travelled on the Missis sippi and Ohio rivers the almost incredible distance of two hundred and fifty thousand miles! He knows hut little of salt spray, hut when it comes to a Mississippi fog, solid enough for a wagon tire, he is there. A hard name. —A Bolander has recently arrived in this count y who has such a crack jaw name that it takes two men to proflounce it. “There’s something satisfactory even in being poor, as the loafer said veil his pocket vas picked of an empty wallet. [Further; ’t is said the poor are more nu merous at the gates of Heaven. Isn’t this consolitory friend Pick ?] Perhaps the knowledge that ‘causeth not to err’ is most frequently impressed upon the mind during the seasons of afllictiou ; and tears are the softened showers that cause the seed of heaven to take root and spring up iri the human heart. I&ott. Whether the promise that “ all things shall work together for good to those that love God,” is to be accomplished by perpetual sun shine, or by incessant storms, no one can an ticipate in his own case. RECOLLECTIONS OF YOUTH. No one of ordinary reflection can have pass ed Shakspenre’s fourth division of life, with out having felt the fondness innate of recur, ring to the season of boyhood, when ho|ie, with her gaudy day-dreams, seemed the living per sonification of truth. Although that piriod in event may seem the least important in life; and although we may have lived to see the vapor cloud palaces, glittering with dew-drops, rear ed by our youthful imagination, melt away be fore the noontide sun of manhood, still wejean not fail to observe and feel the mighty influ ence of those halcyon days ! which, as we re cede from them, grow dearer anfi dearer, and in their influence, stronger and stronger.— Hence, we never see an old man leaning upon his staff in the pleasant sunshine, or smoking his pipe by the cheerful fire in the long winter evening, who. if speaking of the present, does not take occasion to praise t’le past. PIANO FORTES, From Robert Xunru Clark'*, and Geih f Walker* Manufactories, at C. Bruno’* Music Store, In Macon, Georgia. BRUNO is constantly receiving from the said manufactories,superior Pianos,manufactured ex pressly for his establishment, of various patterns of Rose and Mahogany, with the grand action, harp stop, metallic plates, patent tuning pins, &c. &c., embracing the latest fashion of furniture, with tablet and hollow corniced fronts, veneered legs, and Grecian scrolls; all ot which is warranted to be made of such material and so well seasoned, as to stand the test of every climate. A written guaranty entitles the person to exchange the instrument at any time within one year, if not satisfac tory, (if returned uninjured.) Also, constantly receiving, new and fashionable Mu sic, Instruction Books, Guitars, V iolins. Flutes, Fla«eo letts, &,c. Guitar and Violin Strings, Ruled Music T aper. Brass Instruments for Bands, such as Trombones. Bugles, I rumpets, &c. April 6 24y A SITUATION ’ TS WANTED by a gentleman, (an old resident of ~~ Macon) in any respectable business, wherin he can be of service. For information, address E. at the of fice of the “ Southern Post." Apnl 6 24tf I Just Dropt in to See Yon All ! WI S r RECEIVED, United States Screamer, Shin aß bone AJley, Rousing Nigger Roarer, containing all de Nigger Songs eber wur writ: Dream Books ; a large assortment of Plays, in pamphlet form, suitable for I hespian Societies, for sale at the Book Store of . .. , C. A. ELLS. April 6 24 JUST RECEIVED^ - riXOVVNS’ NEW SPELLING BOOKS, and a * large assortment ot School Books, at wholesale, at Charleston prices, by C. A. ELLS April 6 24 JEST RECEIVED, 4 LARGE assortment of NEWMAN’S COLORS in Cakea, Pencils, Drawing Paper, Fin* Albums, Porcelain Slates, Visiting Card*. Superior Penknives, Portfolios, Sot; for sale by C. A. ELL-** Apnl* u ORIGINAL. For the Southern Post TIIE GENIUS OF POETRY. As soaring ’mid yo n silvery clouds on high, The noble eagle seeks the azure skv, To bathe his wings in sur ny founts of light, Where virgin beams of day, shine ever bright, And looks unblenched upon that world of fire* So pure—eo quenchless—the Eternal’s pyre, Where thunders lie entombed to bide his will Wrought out with more than Cyclopean skill— So fearless, so unchecked bold Genius soars With knee unbent, and mind that ne’er adores Save He, by whose unknown, omnific power, The winds were made to blow the clouds to lower. And all this beauteous world hung up to view Like prisms sparkling in the morning dew. To him the world is full of jewels bright, Which shine more lustrous than the stars of night. Rich gems of thought whose magic touch can bring The mystic powers of the Genii’s ring, And raise his high-born soul through varied scenes, Up to the world of poetry and dreams. The mat. of measured thought scarce dwecls on earth, Scarce claims it even as his place of birth; lor there is nothing here can clmrin Ids soul, Or add fresh power to the high control Os his proud genius, or can free his will, An 1 let him soar to high Parnassus’ hill, Where ranging ’mid those w ild Arcadian bowers, He gathers sweetness from the fairest flowers That ever bloomed beneath ambrosial showers. Urania bright, with all her charming train, And the soft numbers of her heavenly strain, To hitn are sweeter far than is the hum Os busy life, or beat of war-like dtum ; While sad Melpomene with music flings, 'Unheard of sweetness in her murmuring* O'er the full heart, till every thought on fire, Melts to the sweepings of her plaintive lyre. Or laughing Thalia with less solemn mein, Awakens to his view some sportive scene, And makes the hours of sadness flee away, Like twilight beams before the God of day. Thus all unite among the heavenly Nine, To bless the votaries of their lofty shrine. Not on Citlieron's height is felt the pang, Which bitter malice with envenomed fang. Inflicts on hearts pure innocence should save From the fell power of the hellish knave; Nor at thy fount sweet Helicon is known, The tear of anguish, or the bitter moan, Which o’er this lower world in saddest strains Is heard, where grief in wildest aspect reigns. But there in high poetic thought the soul Sweeps upward, far above the base control Os earth-born things, and dwells in sweet repose, While Lethe’s waves untroubled o’er it flows. Yet when forgetful of that nobler state, Which can alone inspire and elevate, The poet too can feel the keenest pain That ever rent a human heart in twain. If sadness o'er his spirit bears the sway, All hope is gone, not «’en one glimmering ray Shines 'mid the darksome gloom of mental night. To lead him on to future scenes yet bright. To him the strongest feelings of the mind In Heaven’s wise Providence has been assigned; The worst of griefs, the best of joys lo feel, Intense extremes of human woe or weal. And thus, if virtue be his guerdon bright. To lead him ’mid this pathless world of night; How rich the pleasures, how unquafled the stream, Which flows through Eden’s lovely bowers for him. DAVID. Thus Israel's bard in chaste and lofty strains, Sang sweetest notes o’er Palestina’s plains; While his pure sj irit bent beneath the spell Os that wild minstrelsy he loved so well. HOMER. And thus the bard of Greece, who struck'his lyre 111 notes so wild, that all have felt the fire Which shone so brightly o’er the Athenian wave, And lingers yet above his country’s grave, A*lofty beacon ’mid the waste, waste sea, Which dashes round thy coast, Thermopylae ; The brightest star in all the world of mind, The noblest genius of the human kind. And w hen we turn to Britton's classic shore, . Where sleep her Druid's, tuned to song no more, A long bright list of starry names appear, Whose merit only wore for them a tear. Unhappy bards ! though brightly Heaven shined O'er all your features with the glow of mind, Vnd gleamy hopes shone o'er your future years. Like sun-light on the hills, where morning tears Are all dispelled; how wretched have ye been 7 How much of human misery hast seen ? MILTON. Couldst thou, Urania’s son, who sang of Heaven, Tell w hat thou hast endured and what forgiven ; Paint with an artist’s touch thy spirit’s sky, And give each stormy cloud its fearful dye, W hat sympathetic moans would fill our breast, While musing o’er thy fate, though now at rest ? BYRON. Or ihee, sweet minstrel of our palmy days, Who tuned o'er wietched Greece thy softest lays ; How sadly swept thy lyre in notes of woe, Which caused the tear of grief for thee to flow! Sleep, lonely proud one, on thy native plains,* While echo’’wafts along thy gentle strains; Ev’n o’er the Atlantic wave, and other lyres Catch from thy broken harp its thrilling fires. Long shall sweet Poesy for thee entwine Her riches; chaplets, round thy noble shrine, And Fame low bending from her lofty throne, Shall plant thy name co-equal wilh her own. KIRKE WHITE. Or hither Genius let thy footsteps bend, And weep o’er White thy melancholy friend, Whose lowly tomb the summer breezes kiss, While his pure spirit bathes in seas of bliss. Sure oft Melpomene will sadly keep Lone vigils round her hero’s tomb, and weep With a full heart o’er his untimely end. Whom she had cherished as her early friend. Long shall the star-lit sky shine sweetly down On his lone tomb, unruffled by a frown; And the soft zephyrs, o’er its marble shrine. Weep chastest dews in the clear pale moonshine. Nor shall one sorrow mar the peaceful res! Os those unsullied feelings of his breast. Which knew nought but bitterness and grief. And found in Heaven alone a sweet relief. But 'tis the fate of Genius; sad indeed * Are all the feelings of his heart, which bleed Like open wounds, while keen intensest pain Rends all the hopes he fondly reared in twain- Yet with that gloomy fate there comes a spell. Which he who feels it once can never qucll 'Tis like the magic of the serpent's eys, That charms to ruin and forbids to fly; Or, like the vampire, while with gentle wing. It lulls to sleep with softest breeze of Spring, Draws from the veins the vital stream of life. And ends at once, man's wretchedness snd strife. Oh ! who has felt poetic streams of fire Gush from his heart, or tremble on his lyre, That has not prayed to have them Maze again O'er his wrapped though *, like lightning o'er the mani Oh! who has ever ranged the Aonian heights. And followed Genius ut hi* lofty flight* ;