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“ Other employments and arts serve for the en>-
belliakment , bat Agriculture is necessary for the
oipport of human life.”
FROM THE AMERICAN farmer.
ON PLOUGHING.
North Carolina, 1931.
Ms. Smith :
I propose to offer a paper or two on the
first and most important operation of Agri
culture; and if my opinions and mv manner
of communicating them are tolerated, 'I may
extend my remarks to some other particulars
of this first and best of arts.
Before I speak of ploughing, it is necessa
ry to premise that all planted crops should be
in drills and not in hills, and all sown crops in
beds, for reasons that will appear obvious in
my manner of ploughing, and by some ob
servations on planting that may perhaps fol
low- The fact is all that is necessary to be
understood.
Of ploughs I will sav but little. It is in
■dispcusable that they should be good, run
deep, and oc bfa form to turn a furrow with
the least possible resistance. The avoirdu
pois weight of a plough is a matter of little
consequence, except that a heavy plough
runs more steadily; for the difference of 10
or 15 pound would not be perceptible to a
team capable of carrying a thousand; but
the deviation of an inch in the form of ainoal
board will affect the draught more than fifty
or a hundred pounds.
Teams must be strong. The superficial
scratching of a bad plough, and weak team,
can promise nothing favorable to the farmer.
Room is not afforded for the crop roots to pen
etrate, nor is the earth loosed to suffer the
moisture to rise, nor the rains which fall to
penetrate: either rain or drought in the small
est excess ruins the crop; it can only be
worked in seasons exactly favourable, and the
scratching farmer’s cares and anxieties are
•only relieved by his land soon washing away.
•As that goes down the rivers he goes over the
mountains. Wherein consists the patriotism
of a bad farmer ? This sort of itinerant needs
anew appellation.
Farmers often object that they cannot
plough deep, as from the fewness of their
horses they cannot afford to double their
teams, that is, put two horses to a plough. I
know from experience, that eight horses if
doubled when breaking up, will tend as much
land, and make a better crop than ten work
ing singly. This apparent paradox, if not
now* obvious, will be solved in some future
number if I find it expedient to write it.'
Land should never be flushed up or cross
ploughed for any preparation. It should be
bedded for corn, wheat, and every other crop,
and the water lurrew ol one crop should be
the ridge of theliext.
In reversing the beds, begin in the water
furrow. The deepest ploughing is thereby
made deeper. The sides oft lie old beds are
sliced off and thrown together to form new
ones; with every repetition you can plough
sleeper, and soon arrive at a depth quite in
credible to the skimmer.
Cross-ploughing is very deceptions. Su
perficially observed, work seems to have been
done, but in fact the ridges are nearly scraped
■off to fill furrows. Deep ploughing is out of
the question. Jethro TuH, in Ins book, (as 1
may quote perhaps hereafter,) condemns
cross-ploughing for some paiticular reasons,
that well deserve consideration.
1)E RUSTICA.
LACONICS.
Bearers. —The Indians say the beavers
tvere once gifted with speech, but the great
Spirit deprived them of it lest the should get
the better of mankind.
Friendship stands in need of all help,care,
•confidence and complaisance ; ifnot supplied
with these it expires.
lie who has had the the experience of a
great and violent love, neglects friendship ;
and he who lias consumed all his passion up
on friendship, is nothing advanced towards
love.
We never love heartily but once, and that
is our first love ; the inclinations that suc
ceed, are less involuntary. •
Liberty —lt is the right ofcanvassing,with
out four, the. conduct of those who are placed
at their head, that constitutes a free nation-
Dr- Lal;r:e.
Relaxation of ndnd —The bow loses its
spring that is always bent; and the mind will
never do much unless it sometime does noth
ing—lbid.
Solitude —Solitude is sweet ?—but,dike the
Frenchman, I,wish to have a friend; to whom
I can say—How sweet is solitude !—No
Fiction.
Party Jargon —Every party, in every
•country, have a .vocabulary of court phrases
and unmeaning terms, which they use to mis
lead the multitude.—l‘alcy.
FEMALE SPIRIT.
Not long since a couple was going to bo
married, and had proceeded as far as the
•church door; the gentleman then stopped his
untended bride, and thus unexpectedly ad
dressed hem—My dear Eliza, during our
■courtship I havctold you most of my mind, but
I have not told the whole : when we are marri
ed I shall insist upon three things. What are
*hey ? asked the lady. :Jn tlie'first place, said
the bridegroom, I shall sleep alone, I shall
cat alone, and .find fault when there is no oc
casion ; can you submit to tluee conditions 7
O, yes,-Sir, very easily, was the reply, for if
won sleep alone, I shall not—if you cat alone,
I shall eat first—and as to your finding fault
without occasion, that I think may be preven
ted, for 1 will take care you never shall want
crcasi'ui. They then immediately proceed-!
od to tue altar, arid the ceremony was per
fiatiES'-L
TIIE MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULTURAL AND MERCANTILE INTELLIGENCER,
“These are counsellors
••That feelingly persuade me what I am.”
From the Literary Magazine.
A LESSON FOR JURORS.
j A judge, who lately travelled the north
west circuit of Ireland came to the trial of a
cause in which most of the local consequen
ces of certain demagogues in the neighbor
hood were concerned ; it was the case of a
landlord’sprosecution against a[oor man, his
tenant, for assault and battery committed on
the person of the prosecutor, by the defen
dant, in the preservation of his only child,
an innocent and beautiful girl from ravish
ment. When the poor man was brought in
to the court, the prosecutor appeared and
swore manfully to every article in the indict
ment. Ile was crossed-examined by the Ju
rors, who were composed of honest trades
men and farmers. The Poor man had no
lawyers to till his story ; he pleaded his own
cause, he pleaded not to the fancy but to the
heart. The jury Found him not guilty. The
court was enraged; but the surrounding spec
tators, gladdened to exultation, uttered a shout
of applause. The Judge told the Jury they
must go back to their jury room and recon
sider the matter; adding, “he was surprised
they could presume to return so infamous a
verdict.” The Jury bowed, went back, and
m a quarter of an hour returned, when the
foreman, a ven ruble old (nan thus addressed
the bench ; “ My lord, in compliance with
vour desire, we went back‘to our jury room ;
but as we found no reason to alter our verdict
we return it in the same words as before; not
guilty. —We heard your lordship’s extraordi
nary language of reproof, but we do not ac
cept it as properly or warrantabiy applying
to us. It is true, my lord, that we ourselves,
individually considered in etr private capa
cities, may be poor insignificant men, there
fore, in that light, we claim nothing out of
this box above the common regards of our
humble but honest stations; but, my lord,
assembled here as a jury, we cannot be in
sensible to the great and constitutional im
portance of the department, wc now fill ; we
feel, my lord, that we are appointed, as you
are, by the law and constitution, not only as
an impartial tribunal to judge between the
king and his subjects, the offended and offen
der, hut we act in a situation of still greater
confidence ; for we form, as a jury the harrier
of the people against the possible influence,
prejudice, passion, or corruption of the bench.
To you, my lord, meeting you within these
walls, I, for my own part, might possibly
measure my respects by your private
' irtues ; but the moment I am enclosed in
this place, your private character is invisible ;
lor it is, in my eyes, veiled in your official one;
and to open conduct in that only can we look.
I bis jury, my lord, dors not, in this busi
ness, presume to offer to that bench the small
est degree of disrcpect, much less of insult ;
we pay it the respect one tribunal should pay
to another, for the common honor of both.—
I his jury, my lord, did not arraign that bench
with partiality, prejudice, infamous decision,
nor yet with influence, passion, corruption,
oppression; or tyranny ; —no, we looked to it
as the mercy seat of royality, as the sanctua
ry of truth and justice. Still, my lord, we
cannot blot from our minds the records of our
old school books, nor erase the early inscrip
tions written on our intellects and memories.
Hence we must be mindtul that monarensand
judges arc but fallible mortals, that tyrants
have sat on thrones, and that the mercy seat
of royalty, and the sanctuary of justice, have
been polluted by a Tressalian,a Scraggs, and
a Jeffries. [Here was a frown from the bench.
Nay, my lord, 1 am a poor man, but I am a
free bom subject of the kingdom of Ireland, a
member of the constitution; nay ; I am now
higher, for I am the representative thereof.
1 therefore claim for myself and fellow ju
rors, the liberty of speech ; and if I am refu
s< and it herc,l shall resume it at the door of this
house, and tell them why I delivered my mind
there instead of delivering it in this place.—
[Here the bench assumed .complacency.]
I say, my lord, we have nothing to do with
your private character ; wc know you here
only in that of a judge: and as such we would
respect you ; —you know nothing of us but
as a jury; and in that situation wc should
look to you for reciprocal respect,.because we
know ot no man, however high his title or his
rank, in wliom the law or the constitution
would warrant an unprovoked insult towards
tlie tribunal in whom the people have vested
the dearest and most valuable privilege they
possess. I before said, my lord, that we are
• here m< t, not individually, nor do wc assume
pre-eminence; but in the sacred character
ot a jury, we should be wai ting in reverence
to the constitution itself, if we did not look
lor the respect of every man who regards it.
We sit here, my lord, sworn to give a verdict
according to our consciences, and the best of
our opinions, on the evidence before us. We
hale in our minds, acquitted our duty.as hon
est men. If wc have erred, we are answera
ble, not to your lordships, nor to that bench,
nor to the king who placed you there, hut to a
higher power, the KING OF KINGS !”
The bench was dumb, the box silent; but
approbation was murmured throughout the
croud , and the poor man was discharged.
lo illustrate the extraordinary virtues and
independence displayed by tin* above jury,
would require mere than ordinary talents;
suffice it to say, that it ought to be instilled j
into the mind, and the lesson engraven on the
heart of every man, that he may be prepared
for that exalted station.
In the ( ity Court —-The case of Reynolds j
\s. Loire. The Plaintiff purchased of the!
Defendant Bales of Cotton, several of 1
which when opened at the Factory wore found
to contain wet and damaged Cotton in the
centre of the Bales—-the Cotton at the sides
and ends being of good quality. The sale
was made by Defendant without any knowl
edge ot the fraud, ho having purchased the
Cotton from the planter—and the Plaintiff
brought this action tipon the warranty which
he contended made a part of (lie contract—
itic sale having been effected by samples.—
I tie Defendant denied that samples were ex
hibited at the tiincof the sale, and alledgcd
• hat Plaintiff had selected samples for him
self before the rate was complete and ended.
He also relied upou the Cotton Ileeeipt to I
she w the terms of the contract, and to prove
that the sale was without warranty. The
Court charged the Jury that Where Cotton is
sold by samples the transaction implies a’war
ranty on the part of the.seller, that the bulk
of the Cotton shall be of the same quality
with tiie sample presented. That where it is
usuai to sell Cotton must be presumed so to
have been made until tne contrary appears.—
That where the bargain is made by samples
drawn by both buyer and seller, or by the
buyer, the seller standing by—-the sale is to
be considered one with warranty. That
where the buyer rejects the samples offered
by the seller, and determines to draw samples
for himself and to be his own judge in the
matter, the sale is without warranty. That
to enable the Plaintiff to recover, he must
prove a breach of warranty, .or if the sale
were without warranty he must prove a fraud j
in the seller, which is not proved but denied
m this case by Plaintiff himself. That the
Merchant who sells Cotton fmudently packed .
without a knowledge of the fraud and without
warranty, is not responsible for damages; he
stands in a different situation from tire Plan
ter, who like the vender of provisions for do
mestic use, is presumed to have a knowledge
of the quality of the article he sells. That;
the Cotton Receipt is not a Bill of sale, but j
evidence of the delivery of the Cotton and i
payment of the money—it is not the contract i
between the parties which is usually closed '
before the Receipt is ( xecuted.
It is believed there will be an appeal, or a
motion for anew trial-—,4 ug. Con.
BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF BOLIVAR.
Don Simon Bolivar was born in thecity of
Curaccns, in the year 1795, of Don Juan Vi
cente Bolivar, and Donna Conception Palu
cio. The noble origin of the family of Boli
var, is authenticated in the history of Oviedo
and Banos, as one of the most illustrious m
Venezuela, and by the circumstance of one of j
the ancestors ol Bolivar being chosen, in the
year 1589, to represent that province, as Pro
curador-General at the Court of Madrid.—
Bolivar was very young when death deprived
him ot his father and mother. Don Feliciano
Palacio, his maternal uncle, was intrusted with
the guardianship of the orphan, and with the
administration of an immense fortune which
his parents had bequeathed to him. Tender
ly beloved by his uncle, young Bolivar re
ceived from his parental care the best educa
tion which America could then afford to a I
child of his rank. The first year of his life
were devoted to the elements of the mathe
matical sciences, to history, geography, and
the humanities. Ilis early studies were not
marked by any striking progress, except in
history, which appeared to absorb all his at
tention, it was, however, neither from want of
energy, nor from a love of the amusements of
his age, that young Bolivar neglected the stu
dy of literature and the fine arts. On the
contrary, he was indifferent to all the sports
and pleasures ot childhood, and constantly
absorbed in reflection ; he exhibited a matu
rity, the grave and melancholy cast of which
was singularly contrasted with his youthful
appearance. “1 know not what is the rea
son,” said his uncle, onoday, “ but that child
is not happy, it seems as if the air of ids na
tive country xvas too heavy for him and op
pressed his soul —prophetic words, which
revealed that loftiness of spirit, and that in
nate love of liberty, which already agitated
the childhood ot Bolivar, and promised the
world one of the most illustrious defenders of
the independence of nations!
Bolivar soon obtained from the Spanish gov
ernment the permission so rarely granted, to
proceed to Europe for the completion of his
studies. A young Spanish lady, of noble birth
and extraordinary beauty, made a deep im
pression upon that heart which had hitherto
heat for glory and liberty alone; she was the
daughter of the Marquis d’Austaris a country
man of Bolivar, and a brother of the Marquis
del Torn. Bolivar loved her to idolatry ;he
obtained her hand, and hastened to enjoy his
happincss in his native land. But alas! a
blow as sudden as terrible awaited him: a fe
ver of a few days swept off the friend and com
panion to whom he hoped to consecrate his
whole life. To a young man of twenty-two,
under the influence of the most pure and ar
dent passion, such a loss is overwhelming.—
Bolivar was stunned, heart-broken, hut his
courage did not forsake him. No new ties
could replace those which'fate had broken;
the love of big country took entire possession
of a heart closed against all other attachments;
I and that passion for liberty which he seemed
to inherit from nature acquired new force and
activity from his private calamity, lie set
out a second time for Europe, and visited sue-’
cessfully Spain, France, Italy, England, and a
great part ol Germany. During his residence
at Paris, he was particularly assiduous in en
deavoring to acquire all the knowledge requi
site for the warrior and statesman ; he formed
connections useful to him in the progress of
his inquiries; he became the friend of Hum
boldt and of Bompland, from whom he imbib
ed profound and enlightened views on politi
cal economy and internal administration. He
also acquired a decided‘taste for the study ot
languages and history, ancient and modern.
Active, temperate, frugal, devoting the night
to labor, whenever a part.of the day had been
passed in pleasure, the saviour of America si
lently formed himself for the awful work of
the destruction of Spanish power in America.
The coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte, as
Emperor el France, at which Boli var was pre
sent, appeared to him to threaten an approach
ing revolution in the political affairs of Eu
rope, the consequences of which must neces
sarily extend to America. Under the influ
eiicc of this vague presentment, he set out for
Spain, when having learnt at Bordeaux that.
General Miranda was in the United States,
forming an expedition for -the deliverance of
his country from the Spanish yoke, he hasten- j
ed to share the perils of the gloriods enter- i
prise, and to place himself under tiie banners
of the independent chief. He arrived too!
late; the expedition had sailed when lie reach
ed the United States, and in a few days he
heard that he had failed in the attempt. As, j
however, the real object of bis voyage to the
United States had escaped the inquisitorial
‘Tc.enhp Spanish policb, he was at liberty to
return to South America. Thjs.be according
ly did, just at the period when the successes
of Madrid and Bayonne, the abdication of
Ferdinand and of Charles, and the Occupation
of the Peninsula by the French troops, occa
sioned the first interruption of the customary
relations between the Metropolis of Spain and
her colonics, and caused the general insurrec
tion of the new World.
General Miranda made a ftew attempt,
which failed. Bolivar served under him.—
Miranda was treacherously seized, and died
in the prisons of Cadiz. From that period
Bolivar became the chief warrior of his coun
try to the service of which he gave' the entire
of his immense wealth. We have not space
to follow him through all his military exploits.
Ilis career, however, was most brilliant. Ilis
success annihilated the power of Spain. As
Dictator, some inconsistencies might be laid
to his charge, but his ambition was always
governed by a sincere love of his country.
“ True story.'- ~
When I was a young boy, l had dc-lica'te
health, and was somewhat of a pensivfi and
contemplative turn of mind, it was niy de
light, in the long summer -evenings, to slip
away from uiy noisy and more Tubust co m
pariions, that I might walk in the shade of a
; venerable wood, my favorite haunt, and lis
j ten to the cawing of the old rooks, who seem
ed as fond of this retreat as I was.
• One evening I sat later than usual, though
the distant sound of the cathedral clock had
moTc than once warned me to my home
There was a stillness in all nature that I was
unwilling to disturb by the least motion.—
From this reverie I was suddenly startled by
the sight of a tall slender female who was
standing by me., looking sorrowfully and stea
dily in my face. She was dressed in white,
from head to foot, in a fashion that I had ne
ver seen before ; her garments were unusu
i ally long and flowing, and rustled as -she -gli
j ded through the low shrubs near me, as if
they were made of the richest silk. My heart
beat as if I was dying, and I knew not that I
could have stirred from the spot, but she seem
ed so very mild and beautiful, I did not at
tempt it- Her pale brown hair was braided
round her head, but there were some locks
that strayed upon her neck; and altogether
she looked like a lovely picture, hut not like
a lovely woman. I closed my eyes forcibly
j with my hands, and when I looked again she
I had vanished.
1 cannot exactly say why I did not on mv
return speak of this beautiful appearance, nor
why, with a strange mixture of hope and fear,
I went again and again to the same spot that
I might see her. She always came, and often
in the storm and plashing rain, that never
seemed to touch or to annoy her, and looked
sweetly at mo, and silently passed on ; and
though she was so near to me, that once the
wind lifted those light straying locks, and I
felt them against my cheek, yet I never could
move or speak to her. I fell ill ; and when
I recovered, my .mother closely questioned
me of the tall lady, of whom, in the height of
my fever, I had so often spoken.
I cannot tell you what a weight was taken
from my boyish spirits, when I learnt that
this was no apparition, but a most lovely wo
man ; not young, though she had kept her
young l*ks ; for the grief which had broken
her heart seemed to have spared her beauty.
When the rebel troops were retreating af
; ter their total defeat, in that very wood I was
so fond of, a young officer, unable any longei
to endure the anguish of his wounds, sunk
from his horse, and laid himself down to die.
He was found there by the daughter of Sir
Henry , and conveyed by a trusty domes
tic to her father’s mansion. Sir Henry was a
loyalist ; hut the officer’s desperate condi
tion excited his compassion, and liis many
wounds spoke a language a brave man could
not misunderstand. Sir Henry’s daughter
with many tears pleaded for him, and pro
nounced that he should be carefully and se
cretly attended. And well she kept that
promise, for she waited upon him (her moth
er being long dead) for many weeks, and an
xiously watched for the first opening of eyes,
that languid as he was, looked brightly and
gratefully upon his young nurse.
You may fancy better than I can tell you,
as he slowly recovered, all the moments that
were spent in reading, and low-voiced sing
ing, and gentle playing on the lute, and how
many fresh flowers were brought to one wlwse
wounded limbs would not bear him to gather
them for himself, and how calmly the days
glided on in the blessedness of returning
health, aqd in that-sweet silence so carefully
,enjoined him. I will pass by this, to speak
of one day, which, brighter and pleasanter
than others, did not seem more bright or more
lovely than the looks of the young maiden, as
she gaily spoke of “a little festival w hich
(though it must bear an unworthicr name) she
meant really to give in honour of her guest’s
recovery;” “And it is time, lady,” said lie,
“for that guest so tended and so honoured, to
tell you lus whole starv, and speak to you of
one who will help him to thank you: may I ask
you, fair lady, to write a little billet for me,
[which, even in these times of danger, linay
[ find some means to forward?” To his moth
er, no doubt, she thought, as with light steps
and a lighter heart site seated herself by his
couch, and smilingly bade him dictate, hut,
when he said, “My dear wife,” and lifted up
; his eves to be asked for more, lie saw before
•him a pale statue, that gave him one look of
: utter despair,and fell, for he had no power to
help her, heavily at his feet. Those eyes ne
ver truly reflected the pure soul again, or an
swered by answering looks the fond inquiries
of her poor old father. She lived to be as I
saw her, sweet and gentle, and delicate al
ways ; but reason returned no more. She vis
ited till the day of her death the spot where
she first saw that young soldier, and dressed
herself in the very clothes that lie 3aid so well
became her. —From the Indicator.
ax irishman’s reply.
Lord St, John beingsomc time ago in want
of a servant, an Irishman offered his service,
hut being asked what countryman he was ?
answered an Englishman. WhcTo was you
born ? said his lordship. In Ireland, an’ plazc
your worship, said the man. How then can
you he an Englishman? said his lordship—
My lord, replied the inan, sposen I was born
in a stable, that’s no razen I should be a
horse.
-
AMERICAN WRITERS,
BY W. TAMNEHItt.
. \v e come finally to speak of the polite lit
erature of fhc United States, and of the in*i
viduals whose .reputation is founded exclu
sively upon their literary productions.
Joseph Dennie is one of the most remarka
ble of our early writers. He was Lorn .in
August 30th, 1769. lie manifested
•very eat;ly a decided taste for polite litera
ture, and devoted so much of his time to it,
that his appearance at the bar, for which lie
had qualified himself, was unsuccessful. In
1799 he removed to Philadelphia, and short
ly after, engaged in the conducting of the
Port Folio, for which he acquired by his
nqme and talents a large share of patronage
and ce’® hi try. The prospectjiefore him was,
atone time, brilliant and promising, and with
prudence and persevereance, he might have
reached the highest rank : but his irregular
ities wasted his constitution; and he fill a
victim, at last, to . the .Mammon of Intemper
ance, He is described as having possessed
“great colloquial powers, a brilliant genius,
a delicate taste, a beautiful style, a ready pen,
a ricn fund of elegant literature,and excellent
heart, and a captivating countenance and
manner.”
Robert Treat Paine had inhim all the ele
ments ofa great and original writer, but like
all the able men of his day, his powers were
drawn into the channel of active life, and his
leisure hours were devoted to the manage
inent of a newspaper.
Charles Brockden Brown is the most volu
minous, original and celebrated of all the
early writers of the country, who made liter
ature their exclusive business. lie was born
in the city of Philadelphia, 1777. Manifest
ing from his childhood a remarkable fondness
for books, he had formed, at the early age of
16, plans of extensive literary works. Like
Dennie, he was educated for the bar, but his
predilection for liteary pursuits, together
with his natural timidity of disposition, and
dislike for the scenes which courts present,
caused him ultimately to abandon the pro
fession. His novels, six in number, written
with great rapidity and published in quick
succession, after having experienced singu
lar neglect, arc now beginning to be properly
appreciated. Vv hen they first appeared, they
were much read, because supposed to be
written in England. With a more vivid im
agination than Godwin, he is perhaps fully as
powerful in the delineation of passion, and
has the praise of having preceded him in this
branch of writing. He is described by a wri
ter in the Encyclopedia Americana, as having
been “a man of romantic temper, benevolent
heart, pregnant invention, extensive attain
ments, and prodigious industry. His collo
quial powers w ere considerable, but rarely in
dulged in mixed society. He was reserved,
but not unsocial. He could be taxed with no
excess, save that of application—llis moral
character has no stain—He was one of the
gentlest of human beings—llis novels, cur
rent and admired, during liis life, fell into
disuse at bis death, and were not revived till
they .attracted the reading public of England,
and we were taught by her critics that they
were worth “reading. The leading traits of
his novels are, a rich and-correct diction, va
riety of incident, vivid scenes of joy and sor
row, a minute developement and strong dis
play ot emotion, and a powerful use of won
derful phenomena in the physical faculties
and habits of man—-Almost all is uew and
strange in his machinery and situations; but
he deals too much in the horrible and crimin
al!—His characters are extravagantly and
consumately wicked. lie rivits the atten
tion, hut pains the heart beyond the preroga
tive of ti tion, and Lis plots, from the rapuli
ty with which he wrote are frequently confus
ed.”
About the CGinmoficcmerrt ot the present
century a trio ot intellectual lights sprung up
in New York, who were destined to intro
duce anew era in the literature of their coun
try. These are Irving, Paulding, and Ver
Plank—who united their talent in the produc
tion of Salmagundi—a work of originality,
uud singular spirit, which, while it lashed
successfully some of the fashionable lollies
ol our society and government, was an earn
est of the [lowers which two of its authors
have since so signally manifested.
Mr. Irving is, confessedly, the favorite of
America. It has been truly said, that “he is
the first writer of Cisatlantic origin and edu
cation, who succeeded in establishing a high
and undisputed reputation, founded entirely
on purely literary talent and success. ” He
isonc ol the most jiolishcd, and fascinating
writers, not of our own country only, but of
the age. Lord Byron pronounced him se
cond only to Sir W alter 9cott, as a prose wri
ter. VVe readily concede to Sir Walter a
more inventive and powerful imagination, &
greater compass and versatility of genius,
but so far as manner is concerned, we deem
Mr. Irving much his superior in melody and
elegance : Ihe English Language indeed,
appears to us no where wrought up in a style*
of more exquisite harmony than in his works;
and for all the graces of the most melodious
diction, beautiful imagery, and delicate rythm,
us style strikes upon the ear as the most de
hglitful poetry.
Knickerbocker s New York, in the estima
tion of many, is his most original, spirited
and vigorous production. It has all the raev
freshness of the country, where the scene of
it is laid; and abounds in specimens of the
most splendid composition, and strokes of in.
mutable humor. The Sketch Book has seem
ed lo us the most highly finished of his works
—the effort of his meredisn genius, while - yet
he had lost none of his fire and freshness'by
his residence in a foreign land, nor had learn
ed to fear the critics. Many of its tales arc
perfect gems. The language furnishes noth
ing more attractive and fascinating, in their
wav. 1 would not deem it extravagant to ap
|>ly to them Rapiers praise of Anacreon’s
odes—“that they are flowers, beauties, and
perpetual graces.” Rip Van Winkle, is told
with a spirit, a life, a zest, that nothing can I
surpass. Rip, in the course of his cvenlful i
Ido, among others, made the remarkable dis
covery that y woman's tongue is the only tool
ha !f r ™ r * sharper the longer it is used."
Hisßraecbridge Hull and Tales ofa Trav
eller, though vvn may perceive, as Ger. IA- *
fayette remarked, - that he had gained no
ing of spirit or energy by leaving the b<W
,ful rivers, arxlpirfffjeatic forests, and picture'
que mountains of liis native land, atiilovi IK
that they are from the same masterly | la / rt
glittering and racy—still redundi'-'t
of beauty, even to oriental opulence. ][
lias exerted his genius in another, and
higher walk, and proved that his’powers h -
not yet been tasked to their utraosl.Of the'j •
of Columbus, a British critic ha* pronoun*-!,
that it will supersede all other works on t(,!
subject, A- never itself be superceded, ( n , ,
work he appears in a situation that will not 3]
low of the institution of a Comparison beta -
him, Sir Walter Scott and Mr. Moore, and
we believe critics have concurred in bestow
ing the pahn upon the Life of Columbus, on.,
that of Sherd ian and Napoleon. So that
may say, that from this contest, he retires t?
victor. His last work, Chronicles ofGrana&
is a splendid history of a series of romantic
and interesting events, that were never not.
thily related before.—Whatever Ho.ncrs and
Shakespeare may rise, at a future day, jo shed
glory on our country, “the mild and be A it:-
fol genius of Irving,” as it has been bcauv
fully expressed, “will always be regarded-,
the morning star that led up the inarch ofoj r
heavenly host.”
“The Herald of a noisy world.”
From the Richmond Compiler, May ;jo. I
Late and Important Intelligence.
YVe devote our reading columns this nQ rr.
ing almost on; ly to the news bv the N,ip ( .
Icon—London dates to the 24th April, i nc k
si ve. The accounts from England and P o ] ln j
are very important. The King has dissolved
the Parliament in consequence of the majori
ty against the Ministry on the Parliament*,
ry Reform Bill. The Premier is on the
side of the people, in opposition to the Are
to.-racy and the borough mongers. It seems
that the people are delighted w ith the- disso I
lulion of the Parliament, and it is expected 4!
vast majority of reformers will be returned to I
the next House, and that tranquility will be I
restored along with reform. The King and I
Ministers have acted with great energy. The I
scene in the House of Commons on the dayl
of the dissolution, was marked by unprcce-l
dented confusion and violence of languani.j
For example, one -of the Journals declamj
that “never was such a scene witnessed inthel
memory of the oldest man within.the walls oil
St. Stephen.”
The French Chamber is also dissolved to]
make room tor the new ejections under theS
new election law. Tranquility is restored ail
Paris. The loan of 120 millions is taken up 1
by M. Rothschild
The gallant Poles arc crowning-themsrlvpi|
with fresh laurels. The most sanguinc hop-si
begin to be entertained of their final succc.l
POLAND—FURTHER AND BRILIJ\Yf|
VICTORIES OVER THE RUSSIANS. 1
Leaving all collateral accounts out of thl
question, and pursuing the Polish storv asn.-l
corded in the Gazette of Warsaw, wc fol
that on the 3d and 4tli and sth of April, Skr-1
j nccki followed up his good fortune, and tiki
the important battle of the first and "second,l
j was succeeded on the third, Ac. by the r-gl
j ular advance of the Polish outposts, amlv4|
j the hourly accession of stragglers, guns fol
standards, taken by the skirmishing parti* J
of the Poles. The bead-quarters were I
Sicnnica on the 4th. The Prussian pan-l
appear to make light of the revolt in Liti 1
nia, hut they allow it. Among the prisoi rl
taken by the Poles during the several bate,!
are members of the first families in Eur< I
The gallant General Dwernicki, is represni-l
ed as being delayed in his manoeuvres by Yl
difficulty of finding food and accommodafriß
tor liis troops. From the manoeuvres of tr.-B
General, apparently in combination with tfol
ofSkrynccki, and also from the apprmlM
merits of the Russians, a decisive battle is-J
cry day expected.
The Temps of Monday gives an accoun t*
\ another important victory gained over !!kI
Russians. It is reported to have been f<>. I
near Zclechow, to the north of Skladwo, I
of the branches of the river Wiepey, win I
the Russians wished to concentrate. 12,0# I
Russiansuwcre killed, wounded, or taken 1 |
the Poles, with thirty or forty pieces of can I
non. Marshal Dicbitsch was on the pointc I
being made prisoner, when lie ordered I
corps d’arince to concentrate, and retreat si-l
pass the Bug, on the side of Volhynia. T:l
W arsaw Gazette places the Russian lie*
quarters at Riski, and the Polish at Laskarui*
250 Saxons had arrived at Warsaw on the 9*
to enti-r as volunteers in the Polish aruiy.-l
I lie Journal de Vcrecirs repeats the se-t-l
■ ment of a great battle on the sth inst. Did
j itsch was described as flying towards Wiln?
| where an insurrection raged. During the ne
j Lon the Lithuanians and Y’olhy.qjans "1*
served iu the Russian army, turned their art*
j against the Muscovites, and powerfully cot
trihuted to the success of tlje battle,
• Atlas, 2ith April
Military operations in Poland.
“Ro]>orts of another victory obtained by
Poles, have been in circulation this mornii?-
but we have no official confirmation of the*-
The following accounts have reached is frori
different quarters: A letter has been rcccid
ed iu Paris, which speaks of a battle gaiisl
over the Russians, on tiie 7th of April, an it'
banks of the Bug. Marshal Diebitscli is sh
to have been made prisoner with from D |(
12,000 men. An enormous quantity of n*
trriel fell into the hands of the victors, a*
tiie Russian army.was in a complete stated
dismemberment.
“ A letter from War-saw has been {cf-cnd
at the Foreign Office ; it announces greats
cesses gained by the Polish army from the M
to he sth of this month. The litter, lioffi'
er is very brief, and does not make mention
the brilliant details spoken ofin other efflßin I ',
ideations,
“The following letter on the subject
recoiled in Paris to-day., at a late hour:
Stutgard, April IC. /
Half past 0 o'clock, P. M )
“Complete victory ! Poland has triumph^
I hasten to communicate to you a piece of
news Which WiJLfill yen with joy. An e'.'r.