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W o find the following well told tale in the Vlexandria Gazette— lt is not fiction; we have he pleasure of knowing the Reminiscent, now - Lieutenant in the Navy—and long ago ■oe aid the substance of the story. Peed. Arena. MANUEL CARTUCiIO. A PtHATK. I \vM one evening in company with several i.hcers of the Navy; when the conversation . :rning upon the then recent Trial of Com. otter, oy an easy transition settled upon the ransaetions of the anti-piratical squadron ominanded by that officer in the West Indies, •lany incidents and personal adventures rowing out of that service were related by several of the company, one of which arrested ny attention so forcibly, that my memory has retained the subject of the story distinctly, after the lapse of several years. An of •leer, (a youth of about twenty years of age) ifter a momentary pause in the conversation, began, as nearly as I can recollect, in these words Several of you, doubtless, remember that fierce and indomitable Pirate Manuel Cartucho—captured by Stripling on one of his boat expeditions- Carr, wlio left us at this moment, was present at the fight, and I tiiiuk told me saved his life- When the boats hoarded the piratical schooner, which the pi* rates had run upon the rocks during the chase ate the coast of Cuba, those who vv re not shot down, lea ped from the vessel to the rocks, and made their way into the woods under a heavy fire from our seamen. Manuel fought like "a lion, and was the last to throw down his arms and'tako to flight. He had tarried too long, however, to escape. Before ho reached the bows of the schooner an old boatswain’s mate was upon him. All hopes of escape vanish ing, Manuel, as his last resource in the emer gency, threw himself on his kt.ees, and with uplifted hands, implored the interposition of the Holy Virgin. When I first saw them, saysC. the old tar was picking the flint with his jack-knife having apparently just snapped Che piece, and proceeded to adjust the tire i.ock with all the indifference imaginable— one 6xtremity to his own brawny shoulder, and the other to the pirate’s ear. I got up in time to throw aside the muzzle before it ex ploded—another instant, and Manuel would hav e been saved much ol the inconvenience io which he was subsequently subjected. He tvas the only prisoner we made. Manuel was conveyed to Thompson’s Isl and, our head-quarters, and delivered over to the Commodore, who had occasion to admire the fearless intrepidity & Herculean strength of the pirate. One fine evening Manuel was brought up on the top gallant forecastle of the ship, to breathe the fres' air and cool his irons, when hi 9 aquatic predilections entirely overcame his consciousness of present security and ease;' and, dashing through the mass of astonished i seamen, plunged into a rapid seaward tide, j •which bore as many greedy sharks within its bosom as “bubbles” on its surface “onward.” Hut he “was, as it were, a child” of the o ■ean; and the monsters of the deep turned from him as one of their familiars. The pi rate had drifted, perhaps, a hundred fathoms arom the ship before abo it was manned and despatched in pursuit. But Manuel was no drowning rat to catch at straws; lie was bound to the Island, its stangle l and impenetrable mangroves for a shelter from the spoiler ; he jawed and dipped like a crippled loon duck, ns the boat shot up with him. It was vanity, even in a Cuba fisherman who strangles the shark in his own coral depths, to strive with '-he light cutter of a sloop, that leavis the dol -I>hin in its wake. After a fierce struggle, during which Manuel nearly succeeded iilhis :fforts to capsize the light boat, when he would have drowned the crew like so many puppies; they hauled him by the hair into the gig; where, like the savage wolf taken by the hun ter, be crouched without a growl, in sudden expectation of his fate, was taken on board the ship and more securely ironed. The prize schooner, (the Pilot,) a few days hftor this event, was ordered home for adjudi cation, and Manuel was sent on board to st.md his trial on his arrival at Norfolk, the place of destination. Stripping commanded the schooner; myself, and Midshipman B. of New Jersey, were his only officers; for a crew we had ten or a dozen skeleton invalids, worn out by disease, and dismissed the squadron for infirmity. Besides the officers, there were but two able-bodied hands on board. From some cause unaccountable to me, S ordered Manual’s irons to be knocked off, & suffered him to go at large duringthc passage home- Nor did ho seem undeserving this forbearance; but behaved with propriety, and soon ingratiated himself, and won the pitv of every one on hoard the schooner. He attach- i and hitns.if particularly tome; and night and i *iay, Manuel was, in conjunction with inv watch, we lively engaged in tjio duties of the j vessel, lie often sought an opportunity of 1 conversing with ine-on my lonely mid-watch, when the helmsman even was nodding on the tjder, ur' iinmg, perhaps, ot sailing on whole cccaus of • “Jamaica,” and also all on board buried j.t pToibund sleep; at those moments be would bewail the untimely end to which lie was speedily approaching—protest his in nocence of crime—and endeavor to awaken my sympathy in his behalf. Ho would then , weep like an infant; and signs which I mote i comprehend, (for 1 was then not a Mason)' vcie made to bear witness to his voracitv and innocence. He was under the impression that wc had been sent to sea to punish him for his crime?, and that a hard-loatured old! boa.swain mate on board v.iasXo be his cxccu-1 tinner: andjt seems that lie had prepared fori the event. Y> r c made Cape Henry light the roornimr of! the tenth day, and having a fine easterly i breeze, we Wi.re n:ido happy with the prom iso of the pilot of reaching Noifolk before’ the matting of the sun. The garlu “freshened as i the day was done," and already the town of 1 Norfolk began to appear amulet the haze of the | evening, as wc rounded Craney Island. The pilot Wa£ a lid, aim this was ills first essay in ; bis art. He became confused as the sound-1 , ings suddenly shoaled, ?> t rj backed us at high! : water nn the shoal of Craney Island. We la-i bored haTd uiitii the moon was high in r.ir, and the tide had considerably fallen,"when, a ban •toping ail -hopes offfrtfag ''•Cfnr.iil *h- \m. THE MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULTURAL AND MERCANTILE INTELLIGENCER. scl was disburdened of her stores, (about a hundred bags ol coffee,j \vc thought of goinir to sleep off the fatigues of a hard day’s work. It was then I thought ot our prisoner, and ob served to Kas he went belgw, that as our cockle shell of a boat was out, we had better secure the pirate- lie told me to do so. 1 called Manuel to mo, and at the same time told the B’s mate to go he low and get his irons, i i The pirate understood mo, and heard the rat-! (ling of the irons as they were dragged out be-' low. He thought that at last his time was! | come, and that these were the preparations for his execution. He became restive—unit-! terwi and mingled his prayers for mercy with | horrible imprecations. I told one near to me to bring my pistols. He planted his fine form like a bronze statue, upon the deck—threw up his outstretched arm to heaven, and, as the moonbeams played about his dark and rin ged countenance,his black eye glowed like the living coal. Ha struck such ter ror into the souls of our dastard crew, that they quailed and blanched before his glance like stricken deer. I ordered them to seize him. Ono, bolder than the rest, raised an axe to strike him down. Manuel caught it as it fell, and, wrenching fioiu tiio sceinan’s grasp the axe, poised it a moment in the air, smiled in bitter scorn upon the astonished circle as they shrunk before him, and hurled rt into the sea. The tiger springs not lrora his lair so suddenly as Manuel leaped upon me, seizing me by the throat. Another bound, and he was “many lathomsdeep into the sea.” >ly messmate B. had overheard the noise,and, although undressed, rushed on deck to see the cause. He was just in time to throw his arms around my body, as Manuel, with me in bis giant grasp, lept overboard. My clothes gave way, and the robber went alone! Stir ted to fury by the spirit-moving scene, I sprang into our little boat,closely followed by ;iny messmate, and, without time for thou Hit, pushed oil’in pursuit of Manuel. We should have shot him from the deck—it was now too late, the hailed to give room to do so. We were close upon him; as we shot up with him, B. struck him a stunning blow with the blade of bis oar, seized him by the hair, and Man uel, nothing loth, half lugged, half leaped in to tiie boat. lie saw his advantage. We were now adrift in the only boat belonging to the schooner—the tide last carrying us into tin; broad waters ot the bay—-the nut-shell of a skiff scarce large enough to hold us all—and two slight youths to contest its possession and its liberty. He sprang like a madman to the assault—in another instant we were rolling in tne bottom of the boat, locked in each oth er s arms—in no parental embrace, believe me. I shall never cease to recollect the death like silence of the first fearful moment we struggled for the mastery; and, long after the hand of Time had softened the outlines of that night-scene, have I heard the wild shrieks and the stifled groans that issued from that lonely boat. The conflict was long and doubt ful not an instant was theclosehug in which we were entangled relaxed—there was not room to strike a blow—the pirate had not time to draw a Spanish knite concealed be neath his vest—with hands and teeth fixed on each other's throats, smothered groans and blackened visage spoke its progress. He strove at times to overturn the boat—at oth ers to pitch headlong with us into the sea. An unsuccessful efl’or to do this, brought my messmate and myself both upon him for the first time. I lie boat lurched, and he fell heavily across the stern with both upon his breast. He had crushed my right hand in Ins teeth—my lett and both ot B’s. wore upon his throat to strangle him—one of the pirate’s arms was under us, and our teeth were close ly fastened on the other. The pirate was ev i idcutly fast giving way—-my hand dropped from his relaxing jaws—his face blackened under the pressure of our gripe—he soon ceas ed to breathe . c now, lor the first time, gave an ear to cries at no great distance from us—cries for assistance—screams of a drowning man. We recognized the voico ol one of our crew. lie had doubtless jumped from the schooner to swim to our aid—and we drifting so fast with the tide, the poor fellow was exhausted, and had lost sight of the boat. What was to be done ? The pirate might be only partially strangled;if left while we were saving the seaman, he might recover and renew the fight. We were already exhausted to the last ex tremity—a few words passed totliis effect be t" cen us and we resolved to rid us of the pi rate. Me launched him headlong into the sea, and a few bubbles “showed where he was.” Taking the seats which had been overthrown in the struggle, (for we had lost our oars at once,) and directed by voices be- I coming feebler every moment, with greatdif ficulty we paddled to our poor fellows and picked them up. It was as wc supposed, they had swam to our assistance, hut were unable to reach the boat. We were now four in all. 11. and myself entirely overcome, stretched in the bottom of the boat—drifting very qui j etly into ilan’pton Roads at midnight, without lan oar, sail, or rudder. Happily for us, the | schooner’s signal guns, of which she had fired several, brought a boat full manned from a vessel in the Roads. This was sent in pursuit and soon came up with us. We reached our schooner about two in the morning, worn out and exhausted with fatigue. I The rest, is very easily told. Manuel was I not dead when we threw' him overboard—the sudden plunge into tlm water soon revived tho almost extinguished vital spark—he reviv ed, and swam ashore, about a mile ! He was pursued and taken by a party of U. S. troops two days after, w hom he resisted to the last— suflcringscvcral shots to be fired before he yielded. I conveyed him to the Norfolk pris on, amidst the shouts of assembled multitudes and delivered the stern villain into the hands of justice His throat was swollen and his lace turgid—he could scarcely articulate, and when questioned by me pointed to his throat. I could have done so too with as much pTopri- M fy. lie was tried by Judge Marshall, con demned and pardoned, by Monroe. Manuel i still lives, the terror of honest traders “in the ' Indies.” ir.—. , , 1 In memory of a Clerk’s soil, Devonshire, i Dog. killed by the full of a piece of ice : llless my i, i, i,i, i, pa Here he lies, In n sad pickle, lifijcd ’ j an i r iclr t BOOK AUCTION. Scene —By Candle-light in Chatham Street. Auclio ieer. —Gentlemen and ladies—beg pardon—no ladies are here—more’s the pity —gentlemen, fellow-citizens and foreigners —dont be alarmed—aint going to make a speech like Mark Anthony over the dead body of Caesar—but trust—no, I don’t trust— tis all a cash business in my line—hope—aye I hope, gentlemen, I shall this evening be the means ol disposing to you some of the subli rnest lights ol literature. Here, gentlemen, is the “ \V hole Art and Mystery of a Tallow. Chandler”—a luminous work, I dare say, a ro-luminous one, you all sec—how much for it ? Give me a bid. Bidder. —Three cents, to begin with. Auct. I'hrce cents! three pieces of copper for this treasure of learning—only three cents! why man alive, you are out of sense—mad— stark mad—dement and illiterate, to oiler such a pittance for such a work. 2d Bid. Sixpence. Auct. Only sixpence—here goes for six pmee the “Whole Art” &C. Only sixpence for this work on grease— “ Tis grease, but living grease no more,” as my Lord Byron says—but can’t dwell— can’t quote poetry at these prices, gentlemen here goes—going, going, gone for a sixpence. ‘Tis yours, Air. Leatherapfon. 2d. Bid. Aye, and sure it is, and I’ll pay you the cash for it. Auct. Now, gentlemen, do be lively,here is the Pilgrims Progress, a work you have all heard of—written by John Bunyan—a great writer—how much for the Pilgrim’s Progress? Bid. Twenty-five cents'. Auct. Thank you, sir, you’re a scholar— every inch of you—come, gentlemen, keep moving—give us a bid—most tired qf waiting. Bid. Two and six. Auct. Two and six—two and six—poor progress, gentlemen, for the Pilgrim’s Pro gress—only two and six—must knock it down —can’t help it—’tis yours, Mr. Twoundsix— a great bargain, depend upon it. Bid. My name is Cash, if you please- Auct. Oh, Mr. Cash, am happy to see you —hope the whole family of Cash is here.— Now; gentlemen, 1 offer you “Coelebs in search of a Wife”—an excellent coast-pilot for those sailing (o the shores of matrimony—all the sunken rocks and quicksands are laid down here—you can’t but f.tecr -clear of them if you only buy this book—how much for it! Ist Bid. Three shillings. 2d Bid. Three and six—l’ll give three and six. Auct. Three and six, two bidders at three and six—’tis too bad, gentlemen—ruinous prices ! Ist Bid. Four shillings. Auct. Thank you, sir—the book is yours —wish you a prosperous voyage in search of a wife. And here, gentlemen, is a lot of old almanacs, Masonic and Anti-Masonic, Far mer’s and Mechanic’s—every variety of alma nac’s—what for the lot ? Bid. Four-ponce-happcnny. Auct. That’s a Yankee—no mistake there —l'oiir-pcncL'-liappemiy for the Yankee—dont let him speculate on you, gentlemen. 2d Bid. Two shillings for the lot. Is* Bid. Dang it! I’ll give two and six. 2d Bid. 'Three shillings. Ist Bui. Four then—l’ll give four shill ings forthcm’ara almanics. Auct. Done—they are yours, brother Jo nathan, cs sure as guns. Now comes an odd volume of Wavcrly—set your price, gentle men—don’t be scared—will no one bid—l’ll start it myself—sixpence, I offer for Waverly, docs nobody go higher—here’s another odd volume, by the sa.ne author. The second vo lume oft lie Antiquary—just as good as new —I bid that in for the same price don’t be going, gentlemen, don’t leave lire temple of the Muses—stop a moment, I’ve something that will touch your ideas—the Confessions of Gibbs—that tremendous pirate—killed more men than Bonaparte—what for tho Confess ions ? Don’t all speak at once. I**< Bid. One shilling. 2d Bid. One and six. 2d Bid. Two shillings. Auct. Two shillings for the dying words of Gibbs, gentlemen—hope I shall get more for your dying speeches—hard case for a dying speech to gooff at this rate. However, ft can’t be helped. You’re the man, Mr. Snipe nose. 2d. Bid. Pont’t reflect on my nose, if you please, sir—take your money and have done with— Auct. Oh, don’t be angry—did’nt mean to offend—beg your nose’s pardon—his a very decent nose, only lengthy, like many other bills —tailors’ bills,and billsin chancery—but here’s the life of Baron Munchausen—a rate traveller in lus day—hew much for Mun chausen ? Bid. Ten pence. Auct. Only tenpencc for the wonderful travels of the Baron Munchausen—tied his horse to a post in a snow storm one night,and next morning found him hanging by a steeple. You know the story, gentlemen, so give us a bid—too bad—you are all an illiterate set — knowledge has no charms for you—l’ll not waste time and breath on you any longer—l wont throw pearls before swine—this is the last bargain you get to-night—done at ten pence—the book is yours, sir, thank you, sir, thank you, sir, shall be happy to see you hero to-morrow—done for to night—put out the lights, boy—can’t burn candles at these pri ces. D. True friendship, as Telly observes, pro ceeds from a reciprocal esteem and a virtuous resemblance of manners. When such is the basis, the variety in certain tenets and opin ions is of no ill consequence to the union, and will scarcely ever unloose the social ties of love, veneration, and esteem.— Swift. Amongmany other evils that attend gam ing, are these—loss of time, loss of reputation, loss of health, loss of fortune, loss of temper, ruin ot families, defrauding of creditors, and what is the often effect of it, U )0 loss of life itself. Many ot tho .Mussulmans of Africa have no other mode of studying the Koran, than to have thacharnctcrs written with a black sub stance on a piece of board, and then wash t!n‘u: Fffti.uJ dr';:!. water! mrm&izum r& "Just as the twig it beat, the tree's inclined." ADDRESS To the Graduates of the South-Carolina Col tege, at the Public Commencement, 1830. By Thomas Cooper, M. D. — Published at the request of the Junior Class. Gentlemen— You are about to leave this institution, and I have a few words of advice to offer before we part. It is true, I have nothing to say that I have not said before, but it will not be tlje less worthy of attention. We are apt to for get and disregard what is so true as to be ad mitted on all hands, and assented to without hesitation. It passeth in at the one ear and goetli out at the other. A paradox will star tle you and arrest attention; an axiom makes but a weak impression. All useful truths, therefore, require to be repeated; especially to young men, to whom deliberation and re flection haye hitherto been a task and riot a pleasure. You are now about to commence, not to quit your studies. Those of you who are destined lor the learned professions, will soon feel this. In the pursuits connected with those profes sions, the habits of attention we have hitherto forced upon you, will be inestimable, where we have been successful. The more you have hoen compelled to labor here, the easier will labor be to you hereafter, and you will thank us by and by, for every exertion of our author ity, and every compulsory duty which you may have complained of while at College. The aim of the Faculty has been rather to earn vour future than your present approbation.— \ou are not even yet qualified to estimate the value of the discipline which the laws and practice of this institution has forced upon you. But the time will gradually approach when our endeavors will be properly valued. We have cast our bread upon the waters, it will be found again after many days. It is the habit of mental exertion, the fa cility of studying, arising from constant prac tice, the acquired power of commanding and fixing your attention, upon which you must rely for your future reputation and success.— W itliout this, Genius is an ignis fatuus: com bined with it, Genius may do much indeed, for yourselves and for the world. But the mere natural talent is by no means to be set in comparison with patient, preserving indtis try. Genius unregulated by acquired know ledge, and practical experience, is apt to pro duce self conceit, hasty determination, pre mature and imprudent declarations of opin ion, and wild and eccentric modes of think ing and of acting. It takes a course to be ga zed at, but not to be followed. There is no settled union between genius and* vtysdorn.— Industry, on the other band, is sure to find out how little we know, in comparison of what is to be known ; and to confirm the wholesome persuasion, that great eminence is never ac quired without great labor. But the first of all your duties and acquire ments, is to acquire really and faithfully the character of a good man. Irreproachable mor al conduct lays at the root of all desirable ex cellence. It is a favorable counterbalance a gainst inferiority in every other acquirement; and though other qualities may be desirable, this is absolutely necessary. The praise of being a good man, conferred by good men, in the highest recompense we can receive in this world. All of you are destined to he settled in life in the usual manner. You will marry and have families. \ou will then feel the -great importance of the doctrine you now hear; and I pray God you may all of you leave to your children the pjoud portion of an irre proachable character; and exhibit in your own course of life a manifest example of the truth you have so often heard from your in structors here, that whether in private oi in public life, honor and honesty are the wisest policy. Many of you, I hope and believe, are des tinued to serve your country as legislators In pursuance of the maxim I have just repeat ed. let me warn you against a mistake that le gislators are apt to commit, in supposing that what would be disgraceful in one man as an individual, is pardonable in a hundred. That dishonesty becomes annihilated by divided re sponsibility. This is a very convenient doc trine where morality is considered as a thing to be moulded into any shape that convenience may require; and much of the political evils we complain of at this time, may be ascribed to its practical adoption elsewhere. We hate done our best in this College to incul cate far ffi_rent precepts ; and to teach the important truth, that the maxims of common honesty are equally binding on nations as on individuals—<jn an assembly of a thousand, as on any one of the number. For tho last time I repeat these precepts to you, and 1 shall hope not without effect. Remember, of all courage the highest grade is moral courage; tirat which goc3 on straight forward to "do what is right, regardless of the consequences that may result from it. This is not a theological institution, and I rejoice that it is not. W e are freed from the quarrelsome quest ons of orthodox}’ and he terodoxy, and are wisely left to bestow our attontie.i on objects of more direct and prac tical utility. By the Constitution of South Carolina, our 1 gislators are prohibited from intermeddling with religious subjects, or le. gisluting on religious considerations: and so -ol course are all those who derive their author ity under them. “The free exercise and en joyment of religious professions and worship, (sav our Constitution,) shall forever hereafter h’ ' <1 in this State to all mankind, with oi.■ .on < preference. lore, I have little to |trg - • y u remained members of this hi' - ■ tre always to you what I I*'-' ■ ! * ’no Student’s who prece ded while yon are under the con tro 1 • ig!: rnd it is wise in v prof. i3 t! Hr religious to ne te . 1 • may be in error; hut jo l ■ . the. they rra incapable of wd ng you. Moreover, while yo . ' .1* - duties were abun dan attended to, to f ft tour tunc. But r.ov, that Y°" iagow laws cf nf ’.'l3 i u:d, set 'you fre f'' r - permit you to thick :3:} ;..7f c-: v - '■■■A your religion is> your own ; the honest result of your own dili gent and impartial inquiry. Whatever you may decide upon m this respect, let your faith be known and judged of by its fruits; by the moral worth of your character, and the liabitu al uprightness of your conduct. This is ali that society has a right to look to. Whoev er takes the liberty of enquiring beyond this, inquires impertinently. To our fcilow-mcn we arc accountable for our conduct, to no hu man being are we accountable for our opin ions. If I tolerate what I deetn the errors and heresies of my neighbor, he has no right to quarrel with me for mine. • LABOURING .SCHOOLS. By the Editor of the New-York Farmer. I roni the reports ol several academic and theological institutions in various parts of our country, wo perceive that experiments in at tending to manual labour, while acquiring an education, have resulted as satisfactorly as the warmest advocates of the system could have expected. We have long been and we axe still, confident that the plan of uniting mental and manual culture, is the most natu ral method of education, best calculated to devclope the powers of to mind, and admi rably adapted to the circumstances and wants ol every class. It tends to harmonize the physical, intellectual and moral powers of man, and make him what the Creator inten ded, capable of enjoying all the pleasures of sense and thought, unaffected and undimin ished by either bodily or mental weakness. from our own experience and observation, we believe that the money appropriated bv the state for common schools, docs, in reali ty, but little good; or rather, the benefit is much lessthauit would be under a different disposition of it. Let part of it, at least, be expended in assisting the people of every town in purchasing a small farm, work houses, and apparatus for an institution Provision thus made, poor parents would be at no ex pense for education, and would have the sat isfactionof sending their children to a school for industry and virtue, instead of idleness, the precursor of rice. In a proper state ol society, youths should learn their trades while acquiring an educa tion. Let the “Farmers, Mechanics and! Workingmen" advocate this system, and their liberal and benevolent objects will be obtain ed. The aid derived from government should, generally,speaking, increase the privileges, and leave it to no personal enterprise and in dustry to obtain them. The present plan of supporting public schools in the city, and dis trict schools in the country, excites in the breast oi the scholar none of those noble feelings, arouses none of those habits which gives us the hum ideal of a perfect citizen. Among the institutions which have provis ions for manual labor, is a Seminary at Whites burge, N. t. the Manual Labor Academy, at Germantown Pa. at Elizabethtown, Shrews bury, and Bloomfield, New-Jersey, Union Theological Seminary, Virginia; Andover, Massachusetts, Prince town, Kentucky, and at Maysville, Tennessee. The following is an extract from the report of the Manual Labor Academy, of Pennsylvania, in 1829: “The premises consists of forty two and a half acres of good land, several out houses, and a commodious dwelling on Slain street, the residence of the late Dr. Blair. The farm is in the rear of the dwelling on a lane which commumr ates with the main road; there is on it, stabling, coach-house, granary, cart shed, and farm yard, and a culinary car den of one third of an acre. “The youth have respectable talents, hal>, itual industry, and are pleased with the mode of education The health of this interesting family has been uninterrupted, except in a few cases diseased when admitted. Every invalid remaining there has *oen restored to health- They board with the principal, their diet plain, and in as great variety as consist ent with economy and health, arid as much as possible the products of the pupil’s labors on the farm. Piety, learning and honest indus try, are united. Sure such an enterprise can not fail. “The usual branches of study m classical schools are pursued with the addition of the Bible. The hours of recreation are not hours of waste and idleness, and immorality.— They are emp.oycd in useful bodily labor; such as will exercise their skill, make them dexterous, establish their health and strength, enable one to defray his own expenses, and ] fit him for the vicissitudes of life; particu-! larly so if they are destined for our new set- [ tlements. “Thus far they have been employed in ear-! pentcr work, gardening and fanning. Four' of the students are good workmen in wood; and profitable in their ow’n labor, and also as instructors to tnose who arc less experienced. or seven thus employed have already made the various repairs of the buildings and all the needful furniture. Some orders from the city have been executed by them, and they arc ready for more. Those who are en gaged in gardening have supplied the hous es. Others will furnish from the farm thirty bushels of wheat, seventy bushels of rye, ten tons of hay, one hundred and fifty bushels of corn, and three hundred and fifty bushels of potatoes.” “These are counsellors “ That feelingly persuade me what I am.” "“MORTGAGING 'TIIE BODY.” The April number of the North American Review, contains a noti o of the Fifth Annual Report ot the Boston Prison Discinlinc Soci ety, and a great number of facts in* regard to imprisonment for debt. b l he Society have returns from one hundred !,™ Jj.y* >' c;:r 1829. In thirty-two of , persons were imprisoned, for [ b ma lcss twenty dollars ; and 902 for i " Urn : mo T O \ h ™ twenty dollars, and less than ; one hundred doll;.re. ; In fifty.three prisons, the whole number | imprisoned for suingmore than one hundred ’ ar h was 4)6 ’ or as 1 to ° 7 compared * >* *- In srvcß tecn prisons, in which 2057 per sons Wi re imprisoned, only 295 paid the debt "prisons in the Northern States K - •* ■- re were imprisoned 2742. ' l ~ ; :uri ofjwison* in the Southern .States, for the same period, hut 85 wc prisoned. This is a striking fact, exhio !> in strong contrast, the liberalised character m the laws of the South, in contrast with those 0 * the North. From tire returns, it appears that the aver :r. e ; number of persons discharged, by taking the poor debtor’s oath, is thrice as great its the number w he pay tiie debt. Facts of this kind may be cited toany . tent, all tending to show that imprisons nt f or debt, is of little other u-e, than that ofcslfiG#. ingu relic of a barbarous age. The r port states that imprisonment f,,. debt, in Ohio, is abolished. This is incur. correct. Our laws still permit it, without even the restriction as to the amount of the del* which is common in some of the Eastern and Middle Statos. We believe, however, that public sentiment in Ohio is ripe for the chance and so soon a3 :ro shall be so fortunate asm elect a body of legislator# in whom are united some spirit of philanthropy, with a little moral courage, we may hope twhave this disgrace ful law swept from oux statute book. The Prison Discipline Society,. have taken measures to procure the o, unions ef a number of distinguished individuals vrt the policy of confining- the body for debt. Among those we perceive the names of C’arcy, Webster, Channing, Charles Jackson, Everett, die.— It is useless to say, that there is no diffi-r-'iicor of opinion among those persons. They all con cur unequivocally, in the opinion, that im prisonment for debt, except in cases of fraud, is useless to the creditor in coercing payment ■—cruel to the debtor and his fa mil -Soften immoral in its tendencies—and disgraceful to our country ana the age in which we live. Cincinnati American loathful Imre.—'l fie following law puzzle was put to us by a young Barrister during the last Spring circuit. Suppose a feme sole oi lawful age, contracts a debt, and then marries a young man under age; how is the debt to be recovered ? leu cannot sue the wife without joining the husband; and it i 3 a well settled principle ol law, that an infant cannot be sued except for necessaries. This question arose in a case then actually pending in the Court ot Common Pleas for Pickens District. An old lady upwards ol sirty years of nee, living in that District, had lately smitten ;.n amor ous youth of nineteen, by whom she was led to the altar, where mutual vows passed between them, she to love and obey, he to comfort and protect! Some time previous to her marriage, this fair damsel had contracted a small debt, on which she was then 6ucd with her husband! The plea of infancy was put in bv her espous ed lord and master, to this action; but we be lieve it availed him not, as there was a proper rejoinder, stating all the circumstances. Greenville Mountaineer. “ Other employments and arts serve for the em bellishment, but Agriculture is necessary for the support of human life.” CATIXE AND SIIEEF. Ju dgc Kenan, of Coweta county, whose ex cellent .Milch Cows were noticed by us a short time ago,—and whose indefatigable ex ertions to improve the breed of Cattle in this State, are worthy of the highest praise—re ceived at our wharf, on Thursday last, from Philadelphia—-whence they were shipped to- Savannah, and-from thence to Augusta, in tho Steam-Boat John Stoney —a fine Bull and Cow ot the Devonshire breed, and a Ram and Ewe of the Bakcwcll breed. The cattle, ua usual with their breed, u’c handsomely form ed, of a rich red color, w ith short horns, and fine, well-turned limbs. The Devonshire breed ib celebrated, at home, not so much for largeness of size, or quantity of milk, as for the exceeding richness of the latter, and tho excellent quality of the butter, and for the fineness of grain, tenderness and richness ol tho beef. It is held in high repute in England, and has for sometime been advan cing io estimation there; and we are inclin ed to think it much better suited to our South ern climate, than the larger breeds. The Sheep arc ol tho kind most commonly called, at home, the Leicestershire breed, which grows extremely fat, and to a very large size. \\ c have seen the fat of the mutton three or four inches thick on tho ribs, and the gheep so large and I .-road, that when laid on the L* lo }’ could not turn.themselves, to gc* up. The tvool grows very long and thick, but of course, not very fine. The quantity taken from these two, nt the last shearing, though the Ewe is not near grown, was, as we learn from Judge Iv. 14 J pounds. We should think the breed to large, fat, and thick of wool, lor this climate, though they will doubtless make an excellent cross for our small south, ern sheep. They suffer much from heat in iheir own much cooler climate, where it i often distressing to sec them lie and pant in the shade. There is a Urced of English sheep called tho Fouth-Down, of much lighter and finer woo!, bone, and flesh, which is greatly esteemed in England, and we think would be more suitable here, though perhaps not more so, than a cross between those brought by Judge K. and our own small breed. We hope the highly meritorious and use ful cfcertions of Judge Kenan, will stimu late our Planters generally, to follow his en terprising examples; which wo think they will scarcely hesitate to do, when they wit ness the substantial benefits which will be reaped from them, both by himself and others- It is wonderful to note the rapid advantages derived from improvements of the breeds of animals. The Guinea Hog was first intro duced into this State, we believe, by Major Alton Pemberton, of Burke, about thirteen* years ago, and in a very few years thereafter,, the progeny of a single sow, of this excellent breed—superior to all others, ns well in i* 3 adaption t-o our clitr.afc, ns in its fecundity and the quality flesh — -was spread ovc^ thj rhpt* Atig. C%rc"leh * 3-