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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