Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by R.J. Taylor, Jr. Foundation.
About The Macon advertiser and agricultural and mercantile intelligencer. (Macon, Ga.) 1831-1832 | View Entire Issue (June 28, 1831)
'A'hc eVMisccUmiist, j From the IVYm England. Review. THE WIFE. p h-'.vo been with thee in thy hour !f||Ot glory and of bliss.— /mht not its mamory’s living power To strengthen me, through this?’ gtijSUc was a beautiful girl, when l first saw liw. She was standing up at the side of her .or at the marriage altar. She was slightly Ifile —yet ever and anon as the ceremony ■Srocecdcd a fainting of crimson crossed her i Beautiful cheek like the reflection of a sun | lit cloud upon the clear waters of a cjuiet ■ ike. Her fever, a,s he clasped her delicate i land withiu his own, gazed on her for a mo ment with unmingled admiration, and the frarm and eloquent blood played upon his 1 heck, shadowing at intervals his manly fore f Jcad, and ‘melting into beauty on his 1 ip.’ He stood in the pride of his youth—a fair form, With his feelings yet noble, his spirit yet warm, — in Eagle to sheltcrtfhe dove with his wing, An-elm where the light twining tendrils might cling.’ And they gave themselves to one another ! —arid every heart blessed them as they went their way rejoicing in their love. Years passed on, and again I saw those povers. They were seated together, where .he light of a summer sunset stole through the half closed and crimson curtains, lend- a richer tint to the delicate carpeting, land the exquisite embellishments of the rich ‘and gorgeous apartment. Time had slightly ' changed them in outward appearance. The •girlish buoyancy of the young wife had in deed given place to the grace of perfected womanhood, and her lip was somewhat [taler, and a faint line of care was slightly percepti ble upon her beautiful brow, ller husband’s trow, too, was marked somewhat more deeply than his years might warrant—anxiety, am bition, and pride had come over it, and left their traces upon it, —a silver hue was min gling wifii the darkness of his hair, which had become thined around his temples, al most to baldness. He was reclining on the splendid Ottoman with his face half hidden l>y his hand, as if he feared that the deep and troubled thoughts, which oppressed him were visible upon his features. ‘Edward, you arc ill to-night’—said his tvife in a low, sweet, and half inquiring voice, as she laid her hand upon his own. Tne husband raised himself from the alti tude slowly, and a slight frown knit his brow. Ham not ill,’ he said somewhat abruptly, and he folded his arms upon his bosom, as if he Wished no interruption of his evidently hitter thoughts. indifference from those we love, is te rri- riblc to the sensitive bosom. It is as if the sun of Heaven refused his wonted cheerful ness, and glared down upon us with a cold, ditn, and forbidding glance.* It is dreadful to feel that the only being of our love refuses to tisk your sympathy—that he broods over feel* ings which he scorns, or fears to reveal: dreadful to watch the convulsing feature and the gloomy brow—the indefinable shadows of hiddep emotions—the involuntary signs of a sorrow in which we are forbidden to partici pate, and whose character we cannot know. The wife essayed once more. ‘Edward,’ she said slowly, mildly and affectionately ,-*• ‘the time has been, when you were willing to confide your secret joys and sorrows to one 'whohas never,l trust, betrayed your confi, dencc. Why then, dear Edward, is this cru el reserve. You arc tronblcd, aud yet you refuse to tell me the cause.’ Something of ieturning tenderness soften ed, for an instant, the cold severity of the husband’s feature, but it passed away, and a bitter smile was hjs only reply. Time passed on, and the twain were separa ted from each other. The husband sat gloomily and alone in the damp cell of a dun geon. He had followed Ambition as his God, and had failed in his high career. He had mingled with men whom his heart loathed— he had sought out the fierce and wronged spirits of his land, and had breathed into them the spirit of revenge. He had drawn his sword against his country, he had fanned re bellion to a flame, which had been drenched in human blood. He had fallen, miserably fallen, and had been doomed to die the death of a traitor. It was his last night of life. To morrow was the day appointed for his execution.—He saw the suit sink behind the green hills of the west, as he sat by the dim grate of his dungeon with a feeling of unutterable horror. lie felt that it was the last sun that would set to hirn. It would cast its next le vel .and sunset rays upou his grave—upon the grave of a dishonored traitor! The door of his dungeon opened! anti a light form entered and threw herself into his arms. The softened light of sunset fell upon the pale brow aud wasted cheek of his once beau tiful wife. ‘Edward—my dear Edward,’ she said, ‘1 have come to save you.’ 1 have reached you, after a thousand difficulties, and 1 thank God that my purpose is nearly accomplished. Misfortune had softened the proud heart of manhood, and the husband pressed his pale wife to his bosom, a tear trembling on his eye-lash. ‘I have not deserved this kind ness,’ he murmured in the choked tones of convulsive agony. ‘Edward,’ said his wife in an earnest, but faint and low voice, which indicated extreme and fearful delibity,‘we have not a moment to lose. By an exchange of garments you ’..i1l be enabled to pass out unnoticed. Fear nothing forme, I arn a woman, and they will •not injure me for my efforts in behalf of the husband, dearer than life itself.’ Margaret,’ said* the husband,.‘you look sadly ill. You cannot breathe the air of this dreadful cell.’ ‘Oh, speak not of me, my dcaraet Edward,’ said the devoted woman. ‘I can endure eve ry thing for your sake. Haste, Edward— haste, and all will he well/ and she aided v. ith a trembling hand, to disguise the proud farm of her husband in a female garb. ‘Farewell, my love, iny preserver’—whis p- rod the husband in the ear of his disguised v.’fe as the oltice-r sternly reminded the sup lad;-, the tiio*- a-ll.'tt and fey h- r ryit Tifll MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULTURAL AND MERCANTILE INTELLIGENCER. had expired. ‘Farewell—we shall meet again,’ responded his wife—and the husband passed out unsuspected, and cacapcd the en emies of his life. I hey did meet again—that wife and hus band—but only as the dead may meet—in the awful cumuningsof another world.—Af fection had borne up her exhausted spirit, until the last great purpose of her exertions was accomplished in the safety of her hus band; and when the bell tolled on the mor row, and the prisoner’s cell was opened, the guards found wrapped in the habiliments of their destined victim, the pale but still beau tiful corps of the devoted Wife. MOIML. “Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, “One word, when dying, he would wish to blot.” HAPPINESS. This significant term, the most frequent, and the most familiar, in our conversation, is, perhaps, on reflection, the least understood. It serves to express our satisfaction, when any desire is gratified; it is pronounced with a sigh, when our object is distant: it means w hat we wish to obtain, and what we seldom stay to examine.. NVe estimate the value of every subject by its utility, and its influence on happiness ; but we think that utility itself and happiness, require no explanation. Those men arc commonly esteemed the happiest, whose desires are most frequently gratified. But if, in reality, the possession of what they desire, and a continued fruition, were requisite to happiness, mankind for the most part would have reason to complain of their lot. What they call their enjoyments, are generally momentary; and the object of sanguine expectation, when obtained, no lon ger continues to occupy the mind: anew passion succeeds, and the imagination, as be fore, is intent on a distant felicity. How many reflections of this sort arc sug gested by melancholy, or by the effects of that very languor and inoccupation into which we would willingly sink, under the notion of free dom from care and trouble ? When we enter on a formal computation of the enjoyments or sufferings which are pre pared for mankind, it is a chance but we find that pain, by its intenseness, its duration, or frequency, is greatly predominant. The ac tivity and eagerness with which we press from one stage of life to another, our unwillingness to return on the paths we have trod, our aver sion in age to renew the frolics of youth, or to repeat in manhood the amusements of children, have been accordingly stated as proofs, that our memory of the past, and our feeling of the present, are equal subjects of dislike and disjdeasurc. This conclusion, however, like many oth ers, drawn from our supposed knowledge of causes, does not correspond with experience. In every street,, in every village, in cvery field, the greater number of persons we meet, carry an aspect that is cheerful and thought less, indifferent, composed, busy or animated. The labourer whistles to his team, and the mechanic is at ease in his calling; the frolick some & gay feel a series of pleasures of which we know not the source; even they who de monstrate the miseries of human life, when intent on their argument, escape from their sorrows, and find a tolerable pastime in prov ing that men are unhappy. flu: very terms pleasure and pain, perhaps are equivocal; but if they are confined, as they appear to be in many of our reasonings, to the mere sensations \v hich have a refer ence to external objects, either in the memo ry of the past, the feeling of the present, or the apprehension of the future, it is a great error to suppose, that they comprehend all the coustitnents of happiness or misery ; or that the good humour of an ordinary life is main tained by the prevalence of those pleasures, which have their separate names, and are, on reflection, distinctly remembered. The mind, during the greater part of its ex istonce, is employed in active exertions, not in merely attending to its own feelings of pleasure or pain; and the list of its faculties, understanding, memory, foresight, sentiment, will , and intention, only contains the names of its different operations. If, in the absence of every sensation to which we commonly give the names either of enjoyment or suffering, our very existence may have its opposite qualities of happiness or misery; and if what we call pleasure or pain occupies but a small part of human life, com pared to what passes in contrivance and exe cution, in pursuits and expectations, in con duct, reflection, and social engagements, it must appear, that our active pursuits, at least oh account of their duration, deserve the greater part of our attention. When their occasions have failed, the demand is not for pleasure, but for something to do ; and the very complaints of a sufferer are not so sure a mark of distress, as the stare of the languid. We seldom, however, reckon any task, which we are bound to perform, among the blessings of life. We always aim at a period of pure enjoyment, or a termination of trou ble; and overlook the source from which most of our present, satisfactions are really drawn. Ask the busy, where is the happiness to which they aspire ? they will answer, perhaps, that it is to be found in the object of some present pursuit. If we ask, why they arc not miser able in the absence of that happiness ? they will say, that they hope to attain it. But is it hope alone that supports the mind in the midsts of precarious and uncertain prospects? And would assurance of success fill the inter vals of expectation with more pleasing emo tions ? Give the huntsman his prey, give the gamester the gold which is staked on the game that the one may not need to fatigue his per son, nor the other to perplex, his mind, and both will probably laugh at our folly: the one will stake his money anew, that he may be perplexed; the other will turn his stag to the field, that he may hear the cry of the dogs, A follow through danger and hardship. With draw the occupations of men, terminate their desires, existence is a burden, and the itcra ation of memory is a torment. The men of this country, says one lady, should learn to sew and to knit; it would hin der their time from being a burden to them selves, and to other people. This is true, says another; for my part, though I never look abroad, T tremble at the prospect of bad v, c-.‘hc'; fur ;h**u IV* g'-r ’l :urn come mop ing to us for entertainment; and the sight of a husband in distress, is but a melancholy spectacle. The difficulties and hardships of human life are supjaiscd to detract from the goodness of God; yet many of the pastimes men devise for themselves are fraught with difficulty and danger. The great inventor of the game of human life, knew well how toaccoindute the players. Ihe chances are matter of com plaint; but if these were removed, the game itself would no longer amuse the parties. In devising, or in executing a plan, iu being carried on the tide of emotion and sentiment, the mind seems to unfold its being, and to en joy itself. Even where the end and the ob ject are known to be of little avail, the talents and the fancy are often intensely applied, A business or play may amuse them alike. We only desire repose to recruit our limited and our wasting force: when business fatigues amusement is often but a change of occupation We are not always unhappy, even when we complain. There is a kind of affliction which makes an agreeable state of the mind; and lamentation itself is sometimes an expression of pleasure. The painter and the poet have laid hold of this handle, and find, among the means of entertainment, a favourable recep tion for works that are composed to awaken our sorrows. i o a being of this description, therefore, it is a blessing to meet with incentives to ac tion, whether in the desire of pleasure, or the aversion to pain, Ilis activity is of more im portance than the very pleasure lie seeks, and languor a greater evil than the suffering he shuns. 1 lie gratifications of animal appetite are of short duration ; and sensuality is but a dis temper of the mind, which ought to be cured by remembrance, if it were not perpetually inflamed by hope. The chase is not mor'e surely terminated by the death of the game, than the joys of the voluptuary by the means of completing hisdebauch. Asa band of so ciety, as a matter of distant pursuit, the ob jeets of sense make an important part in the .system of human life. They lead us to fulfil the purposes of nature, in preserving the in dividual, and in perpetuating the" species; bnl to rely on their use as a principal con stituent of happin ss, were an error in specu lation, ami would be still more an error in practice. Even the master of the seraglio, -or whom all the treasures of empire are ex torted from the hoardsof its frighted inhabit ants, lor w om alone the choicest emerald A the diamond are drawn from the mine, for whom every breeze is enriched with per mutes, lor whom beauty is assembled from every quarter, and, animated by passions that ripen under the vertical sun, is confined to the grate for his use, is still, perhaps, more wretch ed than the very herd of the people, whose la bipuis and properties are devoted to relieve him of trouble, and to procure him enjoy ment. J • b'i nsuality is easily overcome by any of the habits oi pursuit which usually engage an ac tive mind. When curiosity is awake, or when passion is excited, even in the midst of the feast when conversation grows warm, grows jovial, oi serious, flic pleasures of the table we know arc forgotten. The boy con temns them ior play, and the man of age de clines them lor business. Mhcn we reckon the circumstances that correspond to the nature of any animal, or to that of man in particular, such as safety, shel ter, food, and the other means of enjoyment, or preservation, we sometimes think that we hav? found a sensible and a solid foundation on w hich to rest his felicity. But those who are least disposed to moralize, observe, that happiness is not connected with fortune, al though fortune includes at once all the means ol subsitence, and the means of subsistence, ana the means of sensual indulgence. The circumstances that require abstinence, cour age, and conduct, expose us to hazard, and are in description of the painful kind ; yet the able, the bravo, and the ardent, s> em most to enjoy themselves when placed in the midst of ililliculfies, and obliged to employ the powers they possess. —Ferguson AGRICULTURAL. Advantages to be derived'.from the destruction of weeds. Tlants that grow naturally, among a crop, that has been sown, may be regarded as weeds, or, in other words, as enemies to the crop that is cultivated. The destruction of weeds, there fore, must he considered as one of the most important branches of the agricultural art; for if it be neglected, or even if slovenly performed, one third, or one half of a fair crop, may only be obtained, even from the very best soils. Besides, it merits consider ation that if weeds are suffered to exist, the lull advantages of manuring land, and many other improvements, can only be but partially reaped. Nor is this all; the mixture of weeds in the soil, prevents Ihe crop from receiving the beneficial influence of the air;—augments the risks at harvest,(for acrop that is clean,may be ready for the stackyard in much less time than is required to harvest it, when encumber ed with weeds;)and the seeds of these intru ders deteriorate the quality of the grain. Not withstanding all the injuries thence sustained, how many are there, who hardly ever attempt to remove weeds in an effectual manner? 1 his negligence is the more to be blamed, because, were farmers at the trouble of collect ing all sorts of weeds,before they have formed their seeds and of mixing- them with rich earth, they would soon he reduced into a soft pulpy mass, and nr this way a pernicious nuisance might be converted into a valuable manure. Various experiments have been tried to ascer tain the positive advantage derived from care fully weeding one part of a field,and leaving an other part undone;among these, the following, made with peculiar accuracy, may be safe ly relied on. 1. HVicaf.—Seven acres of light gravellv bind were fallowed, and sown broad cast; one acre was measuacd oil, and not a wood was pulled out oi it; the other six were careful ly weeded. The unweeded acre produced 18 bushels; the six weeded acres, 135 bushels, or 22-j per acre, wh ch is 4.J bushels, or one fourth more produce* in favor of weeding. 2. Barley. —A six acre field was sown.with barley, in fine tilth, and well manured. The woed'er*. owing to r gr r- at abundance of char-' lock, cost 12s. per acre. The produce of an un- i weeded acre was only 13 bushcls;of the weed- 1 ed, 28. Difference in favour of weeding, 15 bushels per acre, besides the land being so much cleaner for succeeding crops. 3. Oats. —Six acres sown with oats; one acre ploughed but once and unmanured, produced only 17 bushels. Another six acres plougncd three times, manured, and weeded, produced 37 bushels per acre. This experi ment proves, that oats require good manage ment, and will pay for it as well as other crops- Ten bushels of the increased produce may be fairly attributed to the weeding; and the other ten to the manurt:. The importance of weeding, both to the individual arid to the public is such, tint it ought to be enforced by law. At any rate a regulation of police, for fining those who harbour weeds, the seeds of which may be blown into their neighbor’s ground, can have no injustice in principle. In England the petty constable, might he required by pre cept from the high constable, to give in to the quarter sessions, containing a list of all persons who suft'ed weeds to run to seed in their hedge or lands, such presetments to he particularly specified to the court. Those re ferring to the coltsfoot, to he given in at the Ladyday sessions : and those referring to thistles, rag-weed, Ac. to be given in at Mid summer sessions. An order of court mi "lit then be made, for the immediate removal of such nuisances, and if not complied with, the offender shouid be fined a sum not exceeding five pounds, one half to the informer, and the other half to go to the relief of the poor. If in consequence of such a system being enforced, 4 2 busheis of wheat; —15 do. of barley,—lo do. of oats additional, were rais ed in all the fields in the kingdom, whose crops are injured by weeds, what benefits might not be the result ?—lndeed if such a plan were to take place, and if the overseers were compelled, by an express statute, to employ the poor, in the destruction of weeds, England might, in process of time, become as free from that nuisance, as China or Japan; and the farmers would soon find, that however anxious they may be, to have their lands tithc-frcc, yet to have them weed free, is of still greater importance. On the whole, keeping his land in a clean ! state, ought to be a principal object with eve ry farmer ; and if this be not carefully attend ed to, he may rest assured of paying dearly for his neglect. But the lossses which he suffers, do not remedy the injury which the public sustains from his slovenly conduct.— Tiie regulations, therefore, which have been suggested, may be considered as both expe dient and necessary ; for were they adopted it is evident, that many of the evils alluded to would be removed, and the wealth and agri cultural resources of the nation, materially augmented. —Sinclair's Code of Agriculture. ;z Convention of Teachers. —ln this paper of tho 15th April last, we adverted to plan pro posed by Air. F. D. Cummins of Macon, for the purpose of consolodating the efforts of school teachers, and improving the method of instruction heretofore pursued in tile educa tion of youth. Public attention was first called to the subject by a communication in the Macon Telegraph of Dec. 11th, followed by another in the early part of April of the present year. His proposition was, “that the teachers of every county in the State, should attend on the day of the next general elec tion, at the respective Court Houses, and in the usual way, vote for one or two, as their represntatives; and a certificate from the pre siding officer of tho election, would entitle to elect to a seat in the Convention.” He also proposed that the Convention should meet in Macon, in December next. We are happy to perceive that the suggestions offered by- Mr. Cummins, and which, should they be at tended with success, will have achieved much good to the State, have elicited an address to the teachers of Georgia, from the Rev. Dr. Brown, Principal of the Scottsboro’ Female Institute, calculated from the feeling and im pressive manner in which it is written, pow erfiiilv to aid in the promotion of the desired object. If there is one State in the Union which more than another needs a uniform and efficient system of instruction—if there is one whore qualifications of the teachers should be made the subject of more scrupu lous inquiry, to prevent the frauds so often practised by the ignorant and superficial, up on an unsuspecting community, it is this.— Were every school now established within the limits of Georgia, conducted by teachers pos sessing the necessary requirements for the able and faithful discharge of their duties; were the system of instruction the same throughout, and thajt system one of acknowl edged superiority, then we might look for visible improvement in the intellectual char acter of the rising generation, even thoug l no greater number of teachers should be employ, ed ; hut while the present course is pursued, the advantages of a good education can only be realized by the few who are able to incur great expense. We do hope that this sub ject will be taken into immediate and seri ous consideration, and disposed of as the best interests of the State may require. As to the manner by w hich the desired re form is to be brought about, we beg leave to oiler our individual opinion in favor of the plan proposed by Mr. Cummins. The place we conceive to be suitable in every respect. Macon is central, and offers as great facili ties for aiding.thc deliberations of a literary assemblage, as perhaps any town in the State. The principle of the elective representation is in our opinion preferable to any other; and by acting on this principle at the next gener al election, as Mr. Cummins has suggested, we think a Convention w ould he sooner as sembled, more generally attended, and repre sent more accurately the great body of teach ers in Georgia. Its aspect would besides be more imposing; it would assume an air of greater authority; its influences would he more immediately felt, and a greater concert and more efficient action among teachers would be the result. We have noticed, since the above article was prepared, a communication from the Rec tor of the Ocmulgee Academy to the editor f the Journal, in which he rocommends the preparatory convention to be held at Mil ledgevillc. It makes but little difference ivhciS r Mill I;™!! nr Mr :V •pi • chosen for the Convention to be held, either would be suitable ; but it is necessary to the success of the project that some point should be speedily and unanimously fixed upon.— W e proposed Macon as being central, and the first place suggested.— Athenian. 1 ANDREW JACK*O\. The New Orleans Louisiana Advertiser nominates JACKSON for the Presidency, the ensuing term—coupling the nomination with the following tributary certificates.. DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE. FOR PRESIDENT, Andrew Jackson. ELECTION IN 1832. “The MAN and his MEASURES. Equal Protection to Agriculture, Manueac tuues, and Commerce :— A literal construc tion of the Constitution, an exercise of ex press, not implied [lowers; A firm adherence to DEMOCRATIC J’RINCIPLES to INDIVIDUAL AND MUNICIPAL RIGHTS to the SOVREIGNTV OF THE states , and the SOVREIGNTY Or THE PEOPLE.” “Honor awl Gratitude to the man who has filed the measures of his country's fdorii." — JEFFERSON. “Gen. JACKSON justly enjoys in an emi nent degree, the public favor; and of his worthy talents and services, no one entertains a higher or more respectful opinion than my self. An officer whose services entitle him to the highest rewards, and whose whole ca reer has been signalized by the purest in tentions and the most elevated purposes.” JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. “My friendship for Gen. JACKSON, and the strong proofs of confidence aid regard 1 have given him, while President, forbids me taking any part against him in the ensuing Presidential election.” JAMES MONROE. “The recollections of the public relations in which I stood to Gen. JACKSON, while President, and the proofs given to him of the high estimation in which he was held by me,” Ac. - JAMES MADISON. “Gen. JACKSON is a clear headed, strong minded man, and has more of lhe Roman in him than any man now living.” * TIIOMAS J E FFERSON. “Towards that distinguished Captain, who has shed so much GLORY on our country, whose renown constitutes so great a portion of its moral property, I never had, I never can have, any other feeling than those of the most profound respect, and of the utmost kindness." IIENRY CLAY. | “In ANDREW JACKSON, a commander I in the division of the South, the President found a man fit for any emergency : a states man, cool and dispassionate; a soldier, ter rible in battle, and mild in victory; a patri ot, whose bosom swelled with the love of country ;in line, a man whose like we shall scarce look upon again.” JAMES MOM ROE. “It is fortunate for the country, that Gen. JACKSON is likely to he fit for public life at the end of the present four years ; for him is the only hope left of avoiding the dangers manifestly about to arise out of the broad construction now given to the constitution of the United States, [by President Adams] which effaces all limitations of powers, and leaves the general government, by theory, al together unrestrained.” TIIOS. JEFFERSON, in 1825. COUNTERFEITS & COUNTERFEITERS. From the intelligence that we have of late received from all parts of the Union, we are confident there is more counterfeit paper in circulation at this time than at any former period in our recollection; and so excelling skilful have those persons become in imita ting the best executed plates of our most cel ebrated artists, that bank officers have not unfrequently received counterfeit notes on their own banks in deposit. If such be the fact, and we have the best authority for say ing so, (the testimony of the Bank officers themselves,) wnat must be the condition of thousands of persons in business, who are, from the circumstance of their handling but a small amount of paper, unable to detect the counterfeit—and it is not only the merchant, but the manufacturer and farmer are also lia ble to be deceived in every note that thev take- In order to point out how the farmers in this state are occasionally swindled, we will mention the fact of one, who had dis posed of liis stock, and came to this city for the purpose of making purchases, when an examination of his notes, by competent judg es, but one half of the amount was found to be genuine. Country merchants also, on arri ving in this market to buy goods, frequently find that they have been deceived by having , one, two, or three bad bills in as many hun dred dollars- And it is not only the loss of the bill that lias been taken by the man of business, but it creates a want of confidence in his future operations, which deters him j from making many a profitable speculation, fearing that he may ultimately lose in a simi lar manner. M e are convinced from every days obser vation, that there is an organized body of strol ling counterfeiters, who travel from state to state for the purpose of giving currency to their unlawful paper: and one reason why they are not more fiequcntly detected, is the fact of our citizens giving too much credence to their statements. If a note is doubted, the person who attempts to pass it states that lie relieved it from some indiviuual, which too often answers his purpose, and he is allowed to pursue his course unmolasted. This is a fact well known, and calls loudly for every citizen to endeavour, by every means in his! power, to aid the detection of these public I robbers. ' If the Legislatures of the different states would pass a law- empowering the officers of banks to cross every counterfeit nr spurious note that is presented, no matter whether it is on their own bank or not, it would no doubt have a very salutary effect; and we are cor tain that no corny t businessman would oh. ject to having a bill crossed, if it is rcallv bad; lie can just as easily recover the amount of the person that he received it from as though it jiad never been sullied with a drop of in?< lie circumstance of the note being bad. will answef every purpose in a prosecution. BCnil Itoads. r . Rail Road* This wonderful increase of population and trade is certainly not to be attributed to [>osi tiou merely ; it is hut a short time since Lon don on the East and Bristol on the West of England, did most oi the shipping business. Liverpool is now superior to Bristol. But for her artificial navigation and other im provements, how would it have been possi hie to attract the trade from such a port as Bristol, on the same side of tlic island and nearer to the course of ships trading with the rest ol the world. The people of Liverpool did not set down supinely, but by their exer tions afforded facilities, and gave induce ments to trade, which have made it the great est cotton market in the world, and increas ed the prosperity of England, and particular ly of all those places more immediately con nected with Liverpool and Manchester. But they who acted so wisely, and fared so well did not intend to be idle for the future; they lately set on foot a plan, and have, with be coming spirit executed Jt ; by which, if they have not lifted up Manchester and carried It to Liverpool, they have done better. They have left the towns, to occupy their old sites but they have enlarged their boundaries • their space is increased, whilst the distance between them is almost abolished- In place of taking thirty-six hours to carry goods, and four hours to convey passengers,, they now carry the former in three hours, and the latter in half that time. If the life of mam be esti mated by the space through which he moves, or the quantity of work he performs-, or the pleasures he may enjoy, those who deal be tween Manchester and Liverpool, may fed that their lives arc lengthened, that space whilst it remains for all desirable purposes,, is almost abolished for those that arc nut so. Anew impetus has been given to rail, roads, and when we examine the simplicity of their construction, the greater choice if location of which they admit, and their d'v uiinished first cost, as compared with canals' —1 he increased speed, certainly, safety and pleasure they afford for the transportation of persons with their property—we arc only sur prised that they arc but now assuming in pub lic estimation their true relative value. Tin y are not ol very recent discovery; in a rude form, they hsve long since been used. But like all other artificial works, the construc tion ol them has been improved by being •simplified. It is said that wooden tracks for the wheels to run in were long ago used in Russia, and as early as 1(371 they were used (or the transportation of coal near Newcastle in England. As wood is become scarce, and iron is now plcntilully and cheaply obtained in England, it has been substituted for wood, and by af fording a more solid and smooth track for the rolling ol the wheels, as well as greater dura bility, is incomparably preferable. Iron rail-ways were originally introduced at the great foundcry of Colcbrook Dale, about 1786. The first form in which they were used, was called the train rail; the rail was a flat surface in parallel tracks, separated at i a distance that admitted the wheels always to be kept on them, by a tram, or rais and go. on the inner side of the rail. Inconsequence of this form, dirt and gravel accumulated on the rail, and greatly diminished the smooth, hard, and even surface so impotent in rolling. The improvement consists in making the rail without a tram or guide, and fastening it into a thin, broad form ; presenting the edge for the wheel to roll on it lias thus acquired the name of the edge rail; the angles of the top arc rounded off’, so that the wheel (as it rolls) !is continually pressing off’on the sides, all dirt or other materials that would accumulate.— The edge is usually of the same breadth with that of the circumference of the wheel, that is from two to three inches. Each wheel is prevented from running off on the outer edge of its own rail, by a flange or guide around the inner face of its run, projecting below the surface of the rail ©u the inner side an inch and a half or two inch es. As the wheels that turn out the same axle are always at the same distance apart, neither wheel can run off’on the inner side ci 1 its own rail, without its opposite fellow run ning off on the outer edge of its rail, which is prevented by its guide or flange, in the man ner described. By this simple contrivance, the carriages are kept in their places, the wheels in their tracks. There is not a mine or foundery vn Eng land, noraconal, to which there is trench land carriage, and scarcely a dock yard or quay, where iron rail roads are now in use. The number of miles of this kind of road is very great; some idea of their extent may la; form ed from the fact, that in 1822, there was in the neighborhood of Newcastle alone two hun dred and twenty-five miles of this road above ground, and as many below it. In Glamor ganshire, there were at the same date, three hundred mill’s of it. From G’ardiffto Myathie I’ydvillr, there are thirty-six miles of if. “The first public rail-way established ?•)' act of Parliament, for the conveyance of gen oral merchandize and passengers, as well ns coals, was the Stockton and Darlington. Rep. 124. This is a single road, twenty-five miks long, with sidlings every quarter of a niik, to allow carriages to pass each other. A small quantity of merchandize, and three of tour hundred passengers, weekly, are con vcyed along this lino, but the chief carriage is ol coal; the tolls for which exceed by si* or seven times, tfio aggregate income from all other source's. The company who con structed til’s road hud to encounter strenuous opposition from land holders and coal proprie tor.”. The first application to parliament ■Ailed —but in 1823 the company was char tered, and on the 27th September, 182n, tho toad was opened to, Uip public. It is a re* markable fact, in relation to this road, that tlio number of passengers and the trade upon it, other than that of the coal, has sprung up, no one can tell how. Before the road " constructed, there was neither commerces nor travelling in that section of country, ex* cept to a very limited extent. The project of the Liverpool and Mapch'j s’* 5 ’* ter rail-way was first discussed in 1822* M r - William James, of London, an Engineer, har ing witnessed the ©fleets of the locomotive engines ncnf cvmtx^riicii'^!' v
