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Political*
• *TU price of Liberty is eternal vigilance.”
EXTRACT
From Mr. Ingham'* address to his friend *
in Bucks Cos. Penn, on his return home.
You must not suppose that 1 am about to
pour out complaints for private griefs: I have
no private griefs. My judgments has never
wavered for a moment, as to the course which
duty and honor prescribed, in the', relation 1
bore to the President and the other members
of the administration ; and sustained by an
approving conscience as well as by many evi
dences of public opinion, and most especial
ly by your generous and kind countenance on
this occasion, 1 should be unfaithful to my
own character and a heartless ingrate, if I
could entertain, much less express, a senti
ment of private grief. Although stripped of
the attractions of power, and exiled from the
public service by the chief magistrate, for
whose character you and I had entertained so
high an opinion—to be thus met and greet
ed by such a crowd of my fellow citizens,
among whom I see, .attended by their sons,
the companions of my childhood, the associ
ates, friends and confidants of my riper years
and more than all these, some venerable
relics of the revolution, of whom, God be
praised, there are yet a few among us. I sav,
auch a meeting as this, is a reward infinitely
more valuable than the possession of any fa
■or in the power of the chief magistrate to
confer. But even without these consolatory
evidences of the go and opinion of those whose
good opinion 1 value more than that of all the
world beside, because you know ine best, —1
say, without these, 1 would be deeply morti
fied if any ffjend of mine should suppose that
3 was an object of sympathy for private grief.
U)n the contrary, 1 regard the moment in
"Winch my separation from the public service
Was determined on, as the most propitious
moment of my life; and although it might
tiow be difficult to persuade those who par
take deeply of the prevailing passion for of
fice, cf the sincerity of this declaration, yet I
perfectly know that the time will come,
when it Will be readily believed. As to pe
cuniary loss, (if any think of this) much less
labor than I should have bestowed on official
business, well directed, will easily procure
something more than a bare subsistence,
which all know is scarcely afforded by the
salaries at Washington,—l can have no cause
of resentment therefore on this account. It
will not be thought profanity, I hope, to say
•that the President is but a mortal; subject to
all the infirmities incident to human nature;
his displeasure or denunciation arc not direct
ed by an omnsicient eye, nor do they carry
With them political or corporeal death.—And
even, if as he suggested in his correspond
ence with me of the 20th o April last, 1 was
intended as a sacrifice to propitiate public
opinion for others whom he loved, and whom
it bad severely threatened, that of itself is
not good cause? for ri sentment. It was not
the ancient custom even in idolatrous sacri
fices to select the worst of the flock for those
purposes. But whatever may have l/ en the
motive for my removal, I shall enjoy the ef
fect, and 1 feel like a mariner who has safe
ly returned from a long, toilsome and some
what perilous voyage, to receive the joyous
greetings of his old companions and friends.
Among the American people, the public
judgment alone can fix lasting disrepute on a
public man. There is too much indulgence
in the press, for truth to be successfully per
verted, or the public mind to be permanently
deceived by the arts of the servile and mer*
cenary part of that body. Icannrt be mista
ken, however, in the indications I have seen,
that whatever may have been the motive for
dissolving the cabinet, that object is not deem
ed to have been fully accomplished by it ;
<Si it is very apparent that a corps editorial has
been organized, ready to let off'their poison
ed shafts at whomsoever, and whenever di
rected by the master of the signals. Some
ot iiiese, perhaps too eager for the chase, or
in obedience to some private signal,
have some time since commenced their at
tacks on itie. —1 could not mistake their con
nection, but I heed them opt. The foremost
of our temporal duties is that which we owe
to our country, and with this guide for a polar
star, whoever makes careful observations can
never mistake liis way. Tiie treatment lam
to receive from the corps I have adverted to,
Will depend not upon the character of my
services to the country, nor on tlieir benefit
or injury to the administration, hut upon the
meekness and silence with which I shall sub
mit to what they deem the greatest of all
grievances, tie loss of office. But, as they
and I place a different estimate on these
things, and this loss is deemed to be a gain,
1 shall have no opportunity of making a merit
of my meekness, or commending myself to
their favor by a self-dent ing silence—l shall,
therefore, pursue the course which duty to
the country shall seem to prescribe, perfectly
convinced that all patriotic minds, when ful
ly informed as to the history of the last two
years, will come to the same conclusion—
until then, it is due to prudence, as well as
justice, to forbear a definitive judgment-
You have been pleased to express a strong
desire for .same “explanation of the extraordi
nary measure which has. shocked the public
mind, and broken up the elements of party j
throughout the country;” alluding, as I un
derstand, to the dissolution of the cabinet. Jt
is reasonable to suppose that there was an
adequate cause for a proceeding so unexam
pled in the annals of our country:—measures
of this kind are not very uncommon in those
governments where it is held that the chief
magistrate “can do no wrong;” hut this doc
trine does not belong to our system, and it
must be an extraordinary case which could
tender such a step expedient. Of this, how -
ever, the people must be the judges in the
last resort; and,before it is drawn into a,
precedent which might lie used tor undefin
ed and dangerous purposes, they have a right
fj be fully informed. Ido not, therefore, |
object to your ree,uest, as improper; hut when
it is considered that the proceeding, so far as
I am concerned, was exclusively the act of
tbr President, who alone can perfectly cx
j lain his own motives, it might seem improp
e;r me now to anticipate the explanation,
which, ns none is above the reach of public
, b<- wv’l lo doubt think it bis duty to
'i’llE MACON ADVERTISER, AND AGRICULTURAL AND MERCANTILE INTELLIGENCER.
make of these transactions to the American
people. But if it be thought that I have in
curred any responsibility in this proceeding,
1 have only to say, let the facts be investiga
ted, and the veil which now envelopes this
matter in so much mystery, be completely re
moved. If all is right, the public mind will
be satisfied; if any thing is wrong, the peo
ple only, who are sovereign in such cases at
least, can apply the remedy. It is the boast
of our system that none arc above the pow er
or beneath the protection of this tribunal.—
Upon their intelligence and virtue depends
the inaint -nance of all the preservative prin
ciples of our government. It is their sacred
duty, as w ell as right, to scrutinize the acts,
and scan the motives of all who are connected
with the public service, and guard with a vigi
lant ami jealous care against every exertion
of power, which, by weakening the influ
ence of virtue and patriotism, may impair the
moral energies of our republican system."—
Enterta ning these views, but for the reasons
I have mentioned, I would unhesitatingly
have responded to your request, and com
municated to ycu, while time and strength
y ormitted, all the lights which I possess on
ihe whole subject. But lam the more recon
ciled to declining a compliance with your
wishtSj seeing that so many channels are
open for communication between the people
and their agents, through w hich they may
have direct access in this case to the respon
sible agent. I have only to add, that as to
myself personally, I neither aeek nor avoid
the scrutiny-.—if done at all, it should be on
public account, and the object should be the
public interest. When this is undertaken,
God forbid that I should interpose any obsta
cle to a scrutiny in which the puiity and in
tegrity of public men are to be called in ques
tion. Unless these virtues are cherished,
this beautiful fabric of government w ill soon
become a melancholy ruin, and the execra
tions of millions yet unborn, will, while the
page of history lasts, be poured out on the
jieads of those who shall have contributed to
its destruction.
AfeRItiJLTIKIL.
From the Southern Agriculturist.
Account of the Management cf Pushee , the
residence of Dr. Henry Rave nee ; bit the
Editor.
Were it possible to obtain from the differ
ent sections of this and the adjoining States,
an account in detail of the management of a
few of the best plantations in each, much in
teresting matter would be obtained, and bv
giving publicity to the practices of districts
distant from each other, yet cultivating the
same articles of food or commerce, much ben
efit would arise, by enabling the planters to
compare the various practices and plans—de
tecting those which arc erroneous in their
own, and adopting those which appear better
in others—much valuable information might
in this way be collected which now is entirely
lost, because it is believed to be of little or
no value, by those in whose possession it is.
There is much done on every plantation which
is worthy et being noted, but because it hap
pens to be an-'very-day business, it is over
looked and undervalued. There arc, also,
many things which appear too trilling to be
made the subjects of special communications,
which in connexion with other matter, would
prove both useful arm interesting. But how
shall this he obtained ? Wc have in vain en
deavored to get it frern those who could fur
nish it. There remains, therefore, only cne
other way, and that is by making an agricul
tural tour, throughout the various parts of the
Southern States, We cannot, at present, car
ry this into effect, whatever w r e may be able
hereafter to do. In the mean time, however,
we intend availing ourselves of such opportu
nities as we may have of obtaining informa
tion, by inspecting the operations on such
plantations as we may visit, and by convers
ing with such planters as we are in the habit
of meeting with yearly in our city. In eve
ry instance, where we can with propriety, we
will give the names of the parties from whom
such information is obtained, but, whenever,
from any cause, it is withheld, we hold our
selves responsible for the respectability of the
author.
It w as during the month of March last that
we paid a short visit to Dr. Ravenol, of St.
John’s, Berkeley, and whilst there, w e made
such inquiries as enables us to give a concise
account of his management. The place on
which he now resides, (Pushee) has long been
in the possession of his family, and w hen he
became proprietor of it was much exhausted,
by long and severe culture. Not having land
enough cleared to enable him to alternate
his fields, he judiciously determined
to endeavor to restore their fertility by
the free use of manures. He accordingly set
himself seriously to work to effect this, and
his efforts have been crowned with consider
able and deserved success.
W e are aware that a large majority of the
Southern planters would not consider the at
tempt to renovate old lands, the most judi
cious course that could be pursued. They
consider it better policy to clear land, culti
vate it whilst it can produce anything, then
abandon it and clear more, rather lhan at
tempt to restoie the fertility of old fields by
manuring. They think, it, on the whole,
more economical, that is, that more can be
made by following this plan for a certain
number of years, with a given number of op
eratives, than cuu be, by that of manuring.—
Of this we have strong doubts, for the only
instances w e have known, of this experiment
being fairly tested, the results have been de
cidedly in favor of manuring, but these were
conducted systematically and for a number of
years. The manuring of fields, however, as
a late writer in the Agrii nlturist observes,is
a matter of calculation, and if after wc have
fairly made it, we ascertain that it is better to
clear lands rather than manure, then surely
we ought so to do—but wc must be careful
not to deceive ourselves, by making partial'
calculations, and those based on false premi
ses, the effect would he felt when the reme
dy could not be easily applied. The great
fertility of newly cleared land is apt to mis
lead us.—vve take as a datum, the product of
a few of the first years, and against these we
array a fearful number of supposed obstacles,
which are to be encountered in renovating!
■M !ipdg. 4 n,r, t'g those are the glow j
turns at first and the - difficulty of obtaining |
manures in sufficient quantities, for all-of the j
land under culture- But- we"~ffrust bear in i
"mind that the old and new lpnd, will in a fqw !
years change places, and this will surely qd j
rapidly take place, unless manures be resort-,
ed to, to keep up the fertility of the new land, j
As to -the difficulty of obtaining manures, this j
is more imaginary than real, for most planters j
have the means amply within, their power, if j
they would but make use of them, of collect
ing and preparing as much ns -they need, —
The only real obstacle in the way is the want;
of system. It is the neglect of tins which \
occasions so much waste and loss on our plan- j
lat ions, not only in manures, but in many oth- 1
er things. We are too much in the habit of j
performing all our operations designed for the |
improvement of our lands in a helter-skelter!
kind of manner, an J at irregular periods.—
This is much more strikingly displayed in'
our manuring systems, (if that can be called;
a system in which there is almost a total w ant
of arrangement.) Instead of the collecting
1 of mateTials.for manures being considered as 1
I one of the most important transactions of a
plantation, it is on many totally neglected, A !
on those on which there is an attempt made,
(with some few honorable exceptions) it is
held as of secondary consideration, and made
to give way to every other business. As long
as this course is pursued, it is reasonable to
suppose that the planter must fail in his at
tempts to renovate or even preserve the fer
tility of his fields. Rut let him adopt a differ
ent course, let him consider the collecting,
preparing and applying of manures, as ofpri
mary importance, let him set aside a certain
number of hands for this special .work, and
I let these hands be employer! on no account in
other work, and he will find that all his sup
posed difficulties will vanish, and he w ill be
surprised to discover how much he may ac
cumulate with a very small force. Let not
our readers think that we are now dealing in
speculation. We know of several instances
where this has been most successfully practis
ed, and Dr. Ravencl’s plantation is a strong
ease, to which we will eonfineourselves.
(Tu he continued .)
The • fliscettanist,
From the Ladies’ Museum.
A TRIP TO LOUISVILLE
“There’s character in every thing ”
I left Cincinnati about a fortnight ago in
the beautiful steam boat New Jersey, (and by
the way I may inform you, reader,that I found
the aforesaid boat to be all that she was
crack'd iqi for—a real brag boat, splendidly
equipped, and well officered and manned.) —
When we were fairly under weigh, I began
to reconnoitre my fellow passengers, who con
sisted of some twenty or thirty persons, a few
of the most singular of whom, gentle reader,
1 shall now proceed to introduce to you. There
was a tall, elderly gentleman rather bald,
with a pug nose, prominent chin, and small
bright eyes, remarkably stiff in his gait, {and
pompous in his manners. lie, as i learned,
was a devoted amateur to Phrenology. Next
was a young man, rather careless in his attire,
with large features and large blue eyes,
which he kept constantly‘in a fine frensy rol
ling,’ this circumstance, together with the
manner of his wearing his shirt collar—viz v
a La Mi lor Byron, led ine to belie ve that
he was a poet. I was also struck with the
peculiar expression that a large hump on fits
forehead, gavosto his countenance. Another
as a non-dcscript sort of being, whom I
would have taken for a woman, had it not
been for a slight sprinkling of whiskers on his
cheek, and his attire, \vhi A h was decidedly
male. There was also a spruce looking lit
tle Frenchman, who was continually snuffing;
and a six foot, two twisted, raw boned Ken
tuckian, clad in Jeans, and as restless as a
colt in fly time. We bad become tolerably
well acquainted with the features of each oth
er, and a desultory conversation had been
kept up for some time, but was at length en
ded in one of those ‘awful pauses,’ which
each one always feels diffident in breaking.— ■,
The poet, however, who sat next to me, after
a few prefatory hems, ventured to remark,’
‘This is a fine boat, sir—she really walks the
water like atbingof life.’ . ‘Yes, sir,’ said I,
and silence would again have ensued, but the
Phrenologist, who had been eyeing my neigh
bour for some time, now rose, stepped across
the cabin, and drew his hand two or three
times over the lump of his forehead, and then
turning on his*licel, and snapping his thumb
and finger, walked oil', muttering ‘bone!
bone?—damme, nothing but bone!’—Yaw,
yaw, yaw! roared the Kentuckian—He, he 1#
lie! laughed the little Frenchman—The dan'-
dy yawned, and the poor poet, as soon as he
had recovered from his consternation, protes
ted that the phrenologist must be a madman.
‘Ob, he’s quite a bore,’ saicj the dandy, ‘lie
had the impudence to tell me the other day,
, that he could'not trace a single developemknt
on my head; he must certainly be a lunatic
or an ideot’—and he leaned languishing!/ up
on his band.
; ‘Ma foi,’said the Frenchman', ‘me no like
| do hump science, ’tis no good like Monsieur
| Lavater's phismahogony.’
‘And what the devil’s that?’ said Kentuck.
‘Kiir,’ resumed the Frenchman", staring.
‘By jingos,’replied the other, ‘l don’t un
derstand your hnjo.’
The Frenchman somewhat nettled, applied
the snuff' to his nose w ith rapidity, which the
Kentuckian observing, he roared flat ‘By
Criminy ! see how he pokes the sawdust up
his nose, jist like an old woman stuffing sail
sages!’. ■
Monsieur became vo exasperated at this
exclamation, that he started back and shak
ing his snuff - box towards the Kentuckian,
exclaimed—‘By gar, sair, you one Brutus—
you call my nose sassage—Sacre! I will have
satisfaction, 1 will give you chastisement. La
Diable ! I look upon you wid despise.’
Kcntuck very deliberately gave the snuff'
box a blow with his baud, and sent the con
tents into the face and over the ruffles of the
I‘rcnchman, whose rage now became inde
scribable; he looked round, foaming and
stamping for a weapon; at length his eyes
lighted up a spit box, which he seized and
hurled at his antagonist, who dexterously
avoided it by jumping aside—it. however lit|
upon head'of the poet, from whence it
descended upon the dandy, copiously dis
charging its fluid over his primly adjusted
vestments. Aroused by the noise, the phre
nologist, who had retired to his state room,
re-appeared, clad only in hisnether garments,
with his head enveloped in a handkerchief,
bv way of night cap. Just as he entered on
the scene, the Kentuckian, who had bared his
bony arms, seized Monsieur by the shoulders,
vociferating as he shook him, keeping time
w ith each word:
‘By the living jingos, did you throw that at
me—l’ll thrash you like a wheat sheaf —by
gaully, do you show fight, (as the French
man bit at him,) why it’s no use, man, for I’m
a young Sampson—l can lick a lion—unbend
a rainbow—-tie a- streak of lightning into
knots, and pull out the sun, beam after beam,;
i as fast as l can lay one hand over to’ther, if I j
! can’t, scorch me.’ So saying ho threw Mon
[ sieur(\vho had now become perfectly passive)
from his grasp, and turning round,burst into
a loud laugh at the situation of the poet and j
the dandy, the formerwith ruefully lengthen-j
ed visage, was rubbing w ith both hands the
new organ which the spit box in its ’ passage j
! had produced on his cranium, w hile the lat-j
ter stood dolefully surveying in a large mirror, j
the reflection of his bespattered person, and!
making as many ridiculous grimaces as dandy j
Jack in the menagerie, when besprinkled by
a discharge of muddy water from the trunk i
of the elephant. The phrenologist gazed at i
the Kentuckian, and then exclaiming—‘good
heavens? how strikingly the organs of de
structiveness are developed in that man,’ he
returned to his bed. The captain now ap
peared, and exercised his addresses success
fully in appeasing all parties. I returning
into iny birth, and awoke the next morning at
Louisville.
LAUDAYICUS.
RUIN, OR TIIE LOTTERY.
In the April of 18 —I visited New York,
in company with several young gentlemen of
the most noble and animated dispositions. —
One of them, to whom I was united in the |
warmest ties of friendship, was an open-mind
ed, generous being, possessing an inexhausti-j
ble fund of anecdote, added to the most bril- j
liant and vivid manner of relating them, I;
think, I had everheard. Merry Joe was the j
genuine and never-tiringspirit ofour delight-;
ful excursion. Never did hours glide so
swiftly away, or wear with more becoming
dignity the gladdening smile of happiness,
than when sauntering arm-in-arm with myi
merry friend towards the Battery, to inhale!
the invigorating sea bfeeze, or lending an at
tentive ear to his instructive drolleries. We
participated to the full in all the rational
amusements which thecity afforded, without
one moment reflecting that the blight aspect
of pleasure might be succeeded by the lower
ing brow of disappointment. ’Tvvus even so
on this.occasion.
On the evening of the 23J cf the same
month, as 1 stood near the Park, waiting
for my friend, who had gone opposite to pur
chase some trifling article of dress, I was ac
costed bv a very pretty boy, seemingly in his
eighth or ninth year. In the humble tone of \
poverty, he implored me to bestow a few
cents, to procure bread for his little sisters,
and medicine for his poor sick mother.
“ Heavens !” said I, “your mother sick, and
and no nourishment to strengthen, or medi
cine to relieve her?” “Indeed, it’s true, sir,”
was the reply. “Have you a father?” “Oh,
yes,sir; but he’s at home drunk,” answered
the lad, with a simplicity that show ed him to
he unconscious of having acted wrong by thus
innocently exposing to a stranger his father’s
blasted reputation.
“Here,” said 1, “take this purse.” “What!
all, sir?” “Yes, but be careful you .o not j
lose it.” “Oh, 1 will, sir,” he exclaimed, his |
Jieart overflowing with joy at this unlooked j
for aid. “God will bless you for this,” con-1
turned he, and the tear of gratitude moisten-{
ed his eye as lie departed.
1 felt sensibly affected to think that one so
young should thus be thrust lorth, by an un
feeling drunkard, to beg enough from the
cold hand of charity to supply the wapts of a
helpless mother. l r et there be such, thought i
I, who wear the human form, wlio have not!
souls to appreciate the sacred ness of woman’s
virtue, who pass over with contempt and neg
ligence her ldvc. Yes, those who should
guard her from the world’s reproach, too of
iten prove the first to lay her in the dust
‘While these thoughts occupied my mind, I
.kept the youth in sight through the railing of
(the Park until my friend rejoined me. 1 hasti
ly recounted the affair to him, (for my curi
osity was aroused to ascertain more of this un
fortunate family,) promising to be at the hotel
by twelve, fio bidding him good night, Ij
Soon gained upon the lad,following in silence
through numerous dark and winding streets,
Until lie entered the door of a lonely dilapi-;
dated dwelling, forgetting in his joyous haste
to close it. Unobserved, 1 approached near
enough to hear and see all that passed. In
one corner of the room, on a low bed, lay a !
female, whose pale, emaciated features, and |
.sunken eyes, betrayed the most poignant
gfief. On the floor lay two lovely girls, re
posiug in undisturbed tranquility. At the
bed aide stood a small pine table, with asolt
tufy lump, its dim rays hut imperfectly show
ing the misery that hovered o’er its impover- J
islied inmates. Near the table, w ith folded !
arms and hat drawn over his face, sat a man
muttering to himself, entirely regardless of
all around him. The sound of the boy’s
footsteps aroused him from his stupor for an
instant, and casting a glance towards the
door, he quickly resumed his former sullen
posture, without uttering a word. “Mother,”
said the boy, “here’s money for you.” “Mon
ey!” cried the villain, bounding from his scat
“where! where is it!” and with the fury ofa
fiend he tore the purse from the hand of the
frightened boy, exclaiming with a frenzied
laugh, “there is yet a chance left to retrieve
my ruined furtunes; to-morrow’s lottery will”
—“Sanford!’’ interrupted a broken voice,
“do not, for the love of angels, leave ine thus! i
Look on this care-worn, weakened frame, re* I
duced to this debilitated state through vour
unnatural depravity. Look on these slum:]
bering innocents, and if you- still avoid il .'lrak!;
the name of man, or have me tliiok.yemi>4idart 1
has yet one gleam of affection playing around j
it, yon cannot, will not desert me 1” He
hesitated-—tlien gazing with a bitter smile, 1
upon his suffering wife, he rushed into the
street, his corroded bosem closing to the melt
ing cry of pity.” Sanford —he’s gone. He
heeds me not. Oil may the course ol a -‘r —t
no, no, I will not repay his former kindness
with a curse ; I’ll pray for him. Father ert ;
mercy, pidtect him from thebune£u| influence j
of the tempter’s voice, guard him- from the .
exhiliaruting delusion ot the gambler’s
haunts, and oh ! steep his soul in the refresh
ing pool of repentance, until it be subdued
and moulded to thy sacred will! may he ;”
she could no more ; she sunk back exhausted
upon the bed. Heartless monster, thought 1,
as he'glided from my view, thou cau’st never
escape the justice of Heaven for this unfeel
ing act. I could hold no longer— l entered
the room with a desire, if possible, of miti
gating the sorrows of this broken-hearted
wife: her lips were still moving in silent
prayer, for the preservation of her profligate
i husband. “ Mother, mother!’’ said the boy
1 as 1 advanced towards him, “here’s the kind j
1 gentleman who gave me the purse.” Rais*
! ing herself and looking on me long and stead
' lastly, she seemed in doubt. Heaven’s!
I wliat was my surprise, when she pronounced
imy name ! When drawing her withered j
j hand across her eyes, as if to assure herself:
• of the reality, she exclaimed, “It is, ’tis he ! j
| O Danvers, to see me thus 1” “Good heavens!
jl know that voice—it must be Mary.”—
“What 1” cried 1, “is this all that remains of j
the once blooming Mary Markly ! the admi
ration of man, tiie pride and envy of her sex,
now sick and friendless, surrounded by pov
erty and desolation !” “Alas ! tis too true,”
she replied, “but, Danvers, how knew you
that I was here, who directed you ?” “Provi- j
dencc,” I replied, “and gave me vour child j
for a guide. Mary, has your husband done
this !” continued 1, seating myself upon the
chair which had been occupied by Sanford.
“He has,” was the reply, “but the Lottery
first caused his ruin—if my strength permit,
I you shall know all”—requesting me to hand
i her a drink of water, she proceeded. “Some-1
j tiling more than a year after your father’s
: family quitted our neighborhood for Louis-,
j viile, 1 became acquainted w th Sanford, lie|
j was just of age, handsome, and in pcs essios j
ofa large capital in cash, beside a lucra
| tive business. He was attentive, and of in
j animating manners, and soon gained my af
fections. 1 considered my dependant situa
tion with my aunt disagreeable. He propos- j
ed marriage, and I accepted the offer. The
j first three years passed very happily indeed, j
! then it was that ho began to associate with
the most dissolute young men of the city, and
allured by the fascinating delusion of being
equally successful with others, he embarked
largely in the Lottery. lie was successful
for a time, but like others, he shared destruc
tion. l'or three or lour drawings he receiv
ed something more than his venture, it was a!
flattering inducement; his mind was bewild
ered, it propelled him forward ; avarice, sup
planted generosity, like the smooth smile of
the seducer, its golden promises coiled round
his inexperienced bear!-*—it drove him to
venture again and again, until lie became a j
bankrupt. The little that remained support-1
< and us fora short time, eit length, reduced to
the last extremity, he hurried to the gambling
table ; dissipation rapidly ensued, transform
ing the kind husband into a loathsome and
execrable brute. Oh, Danvers, forgive this
hasty indignation, I could not help it, I meant
it not.” Fearing that she. would exert her
seif too much, l requested her to compose
herself to sleep, promising to remain until
Sanford returned. Satisfied with this assur-l
ance, and overcome with fatigue, she soon
sunk into a refreshing sleep—the boy slept
likewise. 1 trimmed the lamp, and sat mus
ing on the singular events of the day, when
my meditations were interrupted by the
sound of a voice as if in anger. 1 hastened
to the door, it was Sanford, intoxicated. I saw
him reel, and ere I could render him assis
tcncc, he fell with dreadful force, and the
sharp point of a stone entered his forehead—
his groans penetrated my very soul—l raised
him up with difficulty, and supported him to
wards the step, then turning suddenly upon
me with a vacant stare, he grasped ine near
the throat, dragging me after him with al
most superhuman strength. His reason had
fled. The children awakened by tiie noise,
ran to their wretched mother for protection.
The warm blood was streaming down lus
face—a chill of horror ran through my veins
as he pointed to the bed, exclaiming, ‘There,
she is cold—see how her little ones cling to I
her—you murdered her—the last game was
won by you—you gave me this blow—l want!
enough to buy a Ticket,and I’ll have it too!’}
Then seizing a knife from the table, in an !
instant it was above my breast, I struggled j
hard—the blood gushed over his eyes- 1 ■
heard a rattling in his throat, and as the knife
descended, I stepped aside, and he dropped
dead at my feet? Mary folded her arms
around her little ones and wept. She gazed
in agony on the sickening corpse of her hus
band, whose soul was thus untimely ushered
into the awful presence of an offended God !i
seared with blackest crimes. 'The next day
1 saw the remains of Sanford committed to'
the earth. Iliad Mary and her children re
moved to a comfortable boarding house, and
returned to the Hotel to the joy of my friends
whose sprightly conversation partially oblite
rated the impression which Sandford’s death
had made.upon my heart, POOR TOM-
WARM WEATHER REMARKS*
RY ISRAEL ICICLE.
A Lady's Man. —Of all creatures that in
fest civilized socety,! know of none more in
sufferable th in your smooth faced, flippant
y oung gent lemon, y’clcpt ladies’ men. They
are ever fluttering about the sex, like butter
flies over a bed of flowers—chattering like so
many poll-parrots— playing off airs more fan
tastical than mo.nkhs and endeavouring by
this means to display their charms, and ren
der themselves objects of attraction—l have
no patience with them. A modest man is
altogether in the shade by these busy-bodies,
he has not the courage to commit the egregi'
ftTl? fooleries oi which he sees them guilty
he,caiinot consent to regard woman as he per-
Ceiies her regarded by them, a mere play
thing-, a creature of not one particle of common
sense, whofc cnjovrr.'nts consist in
listening to his own sort string of nonsen I
I often wonder how wohien can . I
yomg gentlemen—but so it has
thd tune oi old Burton, wliphastfle f o ii
passage in his Anatomy of Melancholy °' v ®
it will be so long as the pfferingof IW B
more acceptable than tin* tribute ofte ; ■ ■
ken truth. “Or provided they (sclioW-i l 1 '!
their wits yet they are accounted fools |, B
son of their carriage, because
ride a horse, which evi ry clown c;ni B
lute and court a gentle-woman, c&ry ( . '*■
ble, cringe add make congies, which & 'I
eoannon swasher can do, they are
scorn and accounted silly follows bJ
dies and gallants.’* ' '/ !■
Music. —How feeble arc all the attermA
of man to rival the works of riattrtcl l; f ■
invented a host of instruments t f the
plcst as well as of the most comply J
strnction to produce melodious senimk B
yet all his labor and ingenuity shriek 1
nothing before the matchless worki.JW
of God. The organ with its ten
pipes cannot discourse such sweet strak 1
the nightingale pours forth from its lip I
strumental throat. “110 that at midi.yjl
says old Isaac V\ alton in his Complete i I
! ■•'rt speaking of this songster, “wh en
j laborer sleeps securely, should hear a !
j have very often, theclear airs, thegyJf j I
| cants, the natural rising and falling the do, ■
| 1111 £ and redoubling of her voice,; mi ! I
bo lifted up above the earth, and sav “[ !|
what music hast thou provided for the /'"I
m heaven, when thou affordest bad
music on earth?” cnsucl >
Sunset.— \'flio is there tafio has cay r j
i cdup to the “gohhn gates of the respulw
j V\est”—and beheld them arrayed in aj] t u
magnificence, and watched the beautiful
parture of the God of day, and has not f i
h.mseh l.ftod iroin earth to heaven, andg
feelings spiritualized by the contcmjdat!
of the scene ? Ihe glories of sunset can i
seen and enjoyed in tlioir greatest tulru sso'
Ily in th© country. The winds are novV Wy
ed among the toil age—the birds of heaven
; have ceased their warbling-—the voice of it
| laborer is no longer hesrd-rsilence fag.!.
! bke a canopy upon the scene. At suclu
season, go walk abroad iii the country-,- ;im .
along with you-no book to aid vour i.jk'
tions—go alone or with a friend—kt Vot ’
heart be open to the’influence.of the scei’*-
let its home-felt delights rise up un repress
—resign yourself freely and entirely to the
emotions of your own bosom—and if you ha!,,
not been too far corrupted and contaminate
by intercourse with the world, you wdl: tt
turn a better, happier, Holier man.
aV. 1", Const el lat m.
“The Herald cf a noisy world/’* *
LATEST PROM EUROPeT^
By the arrival at New York of the *
Janus Cropper, Capt. Gary, from Itrfsiolon
trie Ist of June, the Editors of the Coiimad
Enquirer are indebted to the politeness ;
Captain Gary for a Bristol paper of the 3] :
of May, containing London dates of the Suit,
a!o lor the London Time? of the /sth tgiii
27th and 28th of May.
The Poles, have again to a certain ext m
been successful, and another gallant spirit
has been added to the list of Heroes who Imre
already distinguished themselves in the can#
of Liberty. In consequence of the loss of tl
army under the brave hut unfortunate l)w
nicki, it was to be apprehended that the r,
surrection in Voibynia would be
and the inhabitants reduced to submission r
the Russians. To pu vent this, the Cot’,
mander in Chief Skrzynecki, dispatch!
General Chezanowski with eight tfyousua
men to complete the glorious work which ha
been so happily commenced under General
Dwernicki. Jo reach Volhvnia it was nt*.
cessary that they should pass through til
Russian lines, and although nearly sunour
ded by 24,000 Russians, this gallant corps
after a series of buttles, arrived in triiiinjili a
Zamosc, on the 12th, with eight kvhdn
Russian prisoners. His arrival was hailii
with enthusiasm by the inhabitants, and gar
anew impulse to their exertions.
A noble enthusiasm animates the p r oph
of Volliynia, Lithuania, and of all Poland,
which promises to lead them to victory or
death. ( .
Ihe distress in Ireland continues to in
crease.
The report of O'Gorman* Maiion’s iKivin;
hern killed in a duel, is without foundation.
In England all is quiet, and the greatest
confidence entertained by the people iu tU
success of the Reform Bill.
1 he King has conferred the order of tin
Garter upon Earl Grey.
POLAND.
London*, May 27.
Further success of the Poles.—We are and
lighted at being able to announce fresh sit
cesses on the part of the Poles against their
barbarous oppressors. General Ciirzanowslq
having received orders from the
in f hief to march, to Zamosc w ith a corps o'
8,000 men, for the purpose of causing a diycr
sion in Volhynifi, and replacing 'General
Dwcrnicki, who was forced to retire rntoGa'
licia (an avowedly neutral territory, hut whosf
neutrality was violated in the most scanda
lous manner with the connivance of Austria
chose the shortest way, by penetrating thro
Koek Labor tow, andliainstraw. The Gen
eral s expedition was accomplished in the
mhst spirited, dexterous and successful style
lie not only made forced marches of c/ility
one miles (English) in three days, but gst
the Russians in three several’ battles, mu
brought 800 prisoners to Zatnosc on the V jt/
instant, i lie fatcof the hero and hi? f |f
corps excifdd much anxiety as it whs kn< j>
that he was surrounded by tjic enemy’s fi r
amounting to (wonty-fpur,thousand men, a
wus besides, cut I’j-oin all succour for a wbf
week. In addition to these accounts, inti
ligence from Warsaw mentions that the iosit--
rection in Lithuania progresses—that til
peasantry arc more determined than ever 1
opposition to the Russian yoke—and that il
particular throughout the Polish provinces q
Samogotia, all the male population arc und-i
arms, and swear on the fosihs of tin ir forefu
’Hers, to the last ,t r( n f J