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_ gjrxra “ 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.