Newspaper Page Text
.toAgrair ato Mil
The Jflisccllanist.
mater'Ta l 1 ngl.slity,
OR, TRYING TO HOOK A BACHELOR.
‘Don’t you think my daughter Zcphyrina a
very fine figure,” said .Mrs. Long, the other
evening to .Mr. Short, as she was sitting be
side him on the sofa, and Zcphyrina was play
ing on the harp. Mrs. long had several
daughters to dispose of, and .Mr. Short was a
bachelor well to do in the world. His tem
per was a little crabbed, and his wit a little
sarcastic; but Mrs. Long had daughters to
marry, the eldest of whom Zcphyrina, was
none of the youngest, ller precise age we
do not know, and if we did, it would not he
polite to mention it.
‘Don’t you think my daughter Zcphyrina,
is a very fine figure V said Mrs. Long with a
glance of maternal satisfaction.
‘Umph I’muttered Mr. Short, as he tapp< and
his enuff box for the third time, ‘very much
like a figure f>, 1 think !’
‘Figure 51’said Mrs. Long, a little mortifi
ed, though she knew the disposition of .Mr.
Short. ‘A figure 5, do you say, Mr, Short ?
Oh, now you must he thinking of your inter
est table. Compare tny daughter Zcphyrina
to a figure 5 ! Fie, fie on you Mr. Short !
you’ll never get married as long as you
live.’
‘lf I don’t, it will be no fault of yours, Mrs.
Long,’said Mr. Short, as lie threw a long
pinch of snuff up his nose.
‘True, true,’ said Airs. Long, with a look
of great kindness,‘l take an interest in the
welfare cf my neighbors, and like to see all
the single gentlemen provided for. —Don’t
you think Zephyrina plays the harp and sings
with a great deal of taste !’
‘1 think her execution is uncommon.’
‘I am glad you approve it, Mr. Short.’
‘I did’nt say I approved it, Mrs. Long; I
merely said ‘twas uncommon—very much like
the noise of two cats in a gutter.’
‘Oh, you shocking man ! .Mr. Short, you’ve
no taste, no feeling.’
‘But 1 can luar very sensibly, Mrs. Long,’
putting his fingers in his ears.
‘You’ve no music in your soul, as Iland
mil! says.’
‘That cursed noise lias driven it all out.’
‘lndeed, Zephyrina’s voice is not exactly
in tune to-night; but 1 think she plays and
amirs remarkably well, l'or one of her age,
do’iit you, Mr. Short 1’
• ‘Umph! ay—for that matter, she is indeed
rather oi l to learn.’ *
‘Old! Mr. Short V
‘Ay, madam, you know they learn these
things much bettter in their younger days.’
‘How old do you take my daughter Z< phy
rina to he, Mr. Short!’
‘Lord! ma’am, bow should I know ? I
was’nt at the christening. But she’s no
chicken.’
‘As true as I’am alive, Mr. Short, she is
only nine— ’
‘And twenty, Mrs. Lon? ? Well, I’uin
not a judge of these matters, but I should
say— ’
‘Sire looks ten years older than she really
is. She has a very womanly look for one
of her age—don’t you think she iias Mr.
Short V
‘Umph! I think she has some resemblance
to a woman.’
‘She was as forward at fifteen, thought I
say it, as most girls are at twenty-five.’
‘1 hate your forward chits.’
‘Hut. you don’t understand me, Mr. Short;
I mean she was as forward in womanly ae.
complishments, ami in a womanly appear
‘anee.’
‘Oh, as to the appearance, I could swear
she had been a woman these dozen years.’
Dancing was now proposed, and as Mr.
‘Short protested against shaking the foot, even
though Zephyrina was ready to he his part
ner, Mts. Longstiil entertained him with the
accomplishments of her daughter.
‘Don't you admire Zcphyrini’s dancing?’
‘I can t say that I am a judge of those small
matters, Mrs. Long.’
‘You’re too modest .Mr. Short.’
‘it’s a rare fault, Mrs. Long.’
‘Observe with what grace she moves: 1
really think she dances remarkably, lor one
of her age, don’t you think so Mr. Short ?
‘Umph! I tlwnk she dances much better
than an elephant. In tact, the elephant is a
very clumsy dancer.’
i'ie, lie on you! Mr. Short, to compare nr.
daughter Zephyrina to a lour legged beast css.’
‘Why that's not her fault, you know
ma’am.’
‘Whose fault |
‘YViiy, your daughter’s that she was’nt
made a beast ess too, as you call the elephant.*
‘J hope no insinuations, Mr. Short V
'Oli Lord! no ma'am, 1 huv’nt an insinua
ting turn.’
‘Don’t yon think Zephyrina is just about
■♦he right height ?’
‘1 think site’s rather Long.*
‘Do you indeed, Mr. Short? I hope von
-don’t think it an objection.’
‘Objection ! Oh, by no means—she may be
Lone —ay, as long as she pleases—l've no
objection.’
Tin glad to hear you say so, Mr. Short.,
Zephyrina is certainly rather tall of her age.'
‘I hate a bean pole.’
‘How your mind is wandering from the
point, Mr. Short. If I talk of nrusie, vou
utik of cats in the gutter; if I speak of lady’s
dancing, youtalk of the movements of an ele
phant; i( I apeak of a tall young woman, you
immediately fly to a bean pole.’
‘That is my misfortune, Mrs. Long.’
‘’YY ell, well, every body must have their
li.tlc peculiarities. Did I ever show you mv
daughter Zephyrina’s drawings'’
‘Of beer and cider?’
‘What are you thinking of, Mr. Short?’
AVhy, I don’t pretend Jo know, I’m sure,
tea am.’
‘a spoke about Zephyrina’s drawing and
'on talk about beer or eider, i mean her
s.raa nigs ot birds and flowers. Mr. Short.’
— !J . V —yes—J ’understand you.’
step to this table, Air.‘Short, andwc
can examine them, to more advantage.
There! what do you think of that, Mr.
Short?’
‘ ’ hat’s ab, nutifol crow’.’
. Crow ! Air. Sliort- ha! ha! ha! a crow!
• by, what in the world ean you be flunkin'*
Ik tJ rat::.!
‘Well, I dare say it is, now you mention it, i
Mrs. 1-ong—but i really took it lobe a crow.
The truth is, these things should always have]
the names written underneath.’
‘So I told Zcphyrina—but la ! she said they i
would speak for themselves.’
‘Caw! caw !—I beg your pardon, ma’am,;
that’s the note of a crow, and now I recollect
you said this was a robin red* breast.’
‘This was one of Zephyrina’s first attempts:
the next is more perfect. l/>ok at this, .lr.
Short,’ turning over a leaf.
‘\\ hat. a prettv looking go-ding.’
‘Murder! Mr- Short, i thought you was aj
man of more taste.’
‘I admire a young goose, well stuffed and
roasted.’
‘But 1 mean in drawing.’
‘Did you ever see me drawing a cork, Mrs.
Ivong.’
‘.Nonsense! Now you’ve got from beer and
eider to corks. A gosling indeed ! Why, tins
is a goldfinch, Mr. Short.
‘l’m very glad you informed me, Mrs. Long,
for really my taste in painted birds is so small
that 1 took that to be a gosling. All, what's
iierc 1 A codfish, as I’m alive, and a charm
ingonc it is.’
‘Oh, Mr. Short, Air. Short, how can you be
so stupid l That’s a butterlly.’
‘ls that a butterfly! Mrs. Long? do you
say, upon your honor, that codfish is a but
terfly.’
‘Fie! fie! Mr. Short; I’ve as good a mind,
as ever I had to eat, not to show you another
living thing. You’ve no taste in ornithology,
—perhaps you’ll like the flowers bettor. Is’ut
that beautiful?’
‘What! that cabbage ? I never could abide,
a cabbage.
‘Cabbage! Oh shocking! rail that rose a
cabbage.’
‘ls that a rose ?’
‘lndeed it is, a damask rose. Look at this,
Mr. Short.’
‘What, that million? Well, that is .pretty I
must confess—it’ natural as life.'’
‘That’s a carnation, Mr. Short.’
‘Oh! a carnation, is it ? well, I dare say
you’re right—yes, it must be a carnation,
now I think of it.’
‘Do’nt you think, on the whole, Mr. Short,
that Zcphyrina draws surprisingly for one of
her age?’
‘1 must confess I never saw the like.’
‘l’ui charmed to boar you .say so, Mr. Short
—the approbation of a man of taste is highly
gratifying.’
‘l’ve very little taste in these things, as I
said before.’
‘Take a piece ofthis cake, Mr. Short, and
a glass of wine. The cake is of Zephyrinu’s
own making.’
‘Umpli!
‘Light ns a cork—don’t you find it so ?’
‘Heavy as a grindstone,’ mutted Mr. Short.
—‘Slmnt he aide to sleep a wink to-night—
terrible tiling for the dyspepsia. I’ll take an
other glass of wine, if you please, ma’am.—
Confound the cake!’
‘Zcphyrina, dear, I wish you’d entertain
Mr. Sliort a few moments, while l— ’
‘l’ll take my leave. Mrs. Long. Good
night.’
Mr. Sliort took his leave, and Mrs. Long
declared to her daughter Zcphyrina that she
thought any further attempt to catch tin;
crabbed old bachelor would be labor thrown
away, and that should presently bait her hook
for some smaller fry.
iY. I. Constellation.
CIIVNCES OF MARRIAGES.
When a young girl reaches tiie age of fif
teen or sixteen years, she begins to think of
the mysterious sub ject of matrimony: a state,
tiie delights ol which ! ■ r youthful imagina
tion shadows forth in the most captivating
forms. It is made the topic of light and inci
dental discourse among her companions, and
it is recurred to with increasing interest eve-,
ry time it is brought upon tiie tapis. When j
she grows a little older, she ceases to smarter
about matrimony, and thinks more upon the I
all important subject. It engrosses her j
thoughts by day and dreams by night; and !
she pictures to herself the felieity of being
wedded to the youth for whom she cherishes
a secret but consuming llame. She surveys
herself in the mirror, and,as it generally tells
“a flattering idle,” she turns from it w ith a
pleasing conviction, that her beauty will ena
ble her to conquer the heart of the most ob
durate, and that whoever else may die in nj
state of “single blessedness, she is destined I
to become ere many years roll by, a happy
bride.""
1 Tom the age of eighteen to twenty is the
“very witching tjmc” of life. During the
period, the female heart is more susceptible
of the soft and tender influences of love than
at any other; and w r e appeal to our fair read
ers to say, whether if inclination alone were
consulted in the business,more marriages
would not take place during that ticlish sea
son, than in any by which it is preceded or
followed.—lt is the grand climacter of love ;
and she who pas. s it, without entering into
the state of matrimony may chance to pass
several years of her life, ere she is caught in
the meshes of Hymen. The truth is, that
the majority of women begin to In 1 more
thouglitiul w hen they have turned the age of
twenty. The giddiness of the girl gives
place to the sobric ty'of the women. Fro!
volity is succeded by reflection; and reason
reigns wh're passion previously held undis-!
puted sway.—The cares and anxieties of life I
press themselves more on the attention; and!
as its sober realities are more palpable, they!
tend to weaken the efiect of sanguine antici- 1
potions of tmtningh and felicity in the marriage |
state which the mind had formed in its youth
ful day dreams. In short, to use a common
phrase, women, after they arc twenty-one,
“look before they leap."’
Matrimony, however, though not so ardent
ly longed for by the damsel who has passed
what we have styled the grand clitnacter of
love, is never lost sight of either by the young
ostorthc mo.-t aged spinsters in'his Majety’s
dominions. It is a stale on which the eyes
of the whole female world are turned with
pleasurable anticipations ; and the spinster
of forty is as full of hope, of being one day
married, as the damsel of twenty one. But
sorry ns wc always are to utter any thing
which may tend fpoainp the hopes or cloud
the prospects of a fair lady, truth compels us
to say, that, when once she has crossed the
line., which, on the map of love, is marked
thirty, the chances arc fearfully against the
probability of her obtaining a husbaud, even
of the sedate age of forty or fifty. If she pass
many degrees beyond the litre, her state be
comes almost hopeless, nay desperate, and
she may reconcile herself to live and die an
old maid. All experience confirms this la
mentable truth. No wonder, therefore, that
women make a mighty secret of their age,
and that tiiey occasionally tell a pardonable
fib, in the attempt to induce the men to be
lieve they arc several years younger than
they really are.. Who can blame them for
practising a little finesse on this awful sub
ject, seeing that their age, if divulged, must
utterly annihilate the chances of their ever
■enjoying the blessings of wedded love !
Experience, as wc have said, confirms the
lamentable truth, that females who have pass
ed the line seldom reach the harbor of matri
mony. Lest any of our fair readers should
lay the “flattering unction to their souls,” that
though they have crossed that awful point in
the voyage of life, they shall yet escape the
rocks (-.i which if they strike, all hopes of
wedlock must he forever abandoned, we shall
present them with a table, which, whilst it
will exhibit to females their chances of mar
riage at various ages will prove the truth of
the positions which have been already ad
vanced on the subject. The table to w hich
we are about to draw their attention is extrac
ted from the “report of the select commit
tee of the House of Commons <*n the laws
respecting friendly societies.” It was drawn
up by Dr. Granville, a physician and accou
cher of very extensive practice, connected
with several public institutions in the me
tropoiis. The Doctor, whose attention had
been directed to the statistical question of the
increase of population among the poor;
thought that the public institutions to which
he belonged might be made available in ob
taining the information which he wanted.—
For this purpose he put questions to the fe
males, who from time to time caine under his
care, to ascertain the earliest age at which
women ofthc poorer classes marry. Ifcsub
mitted to the committee the registered cases
of 870 women; and the following table, de
j rived from their answers as to the age at
which they respectively married, is the first
ever constructed to exhibit to females their
chances of marriage at various ages. Of the
67(ifcma!os, there were married,
Years of age. Year? of age.
4 at 13 28 27
11 14 22 28
16 15 17 20
43 16 0 3()
45 17 -7 31
7C 18 5 32
115 10 7 33
118 20 5 34
80 21 2 35
85 22 0 3(5
59 23 2 37
53 24 0 38
3 25 1 30
24 20
It is to he borne in mind, that the females
whose relative ages at the time of their mar
riage above exhibited, wore all of the lower
classes. Among an equal number from the
middling or the higher classes, we should
not probably find so many as 195, or more
than one fifth married under the age of 19;
or so few as one sixteenth part after 23; or
only one thirtieth part after thirty.
1 rom this curious statist cal table, out fair
readers may form a pretty accurate judge
ment ol the chances which they have of en
tering into the holy state of matrimonv, and
of enjoying the sweets (we say nothing of the
hitters) of wedded love. They ouirlrt always
however, to remember that such of them as,
indepencntly ol personal charms, possess the
more powerful recommendation of property,
will be deemed eligible as wives whatever
may be their age.
i Wonders will never cease. Who could
I have supposed, that in the Ci*y of Boston,
j Turtle Soup would ever “go a begging,”—
Yet it was so yesterday, and may be so again.
An elegant half gallon pitcher of rich Turtle
Soup was presented at the door of a dwel
ling-lioucs in Ilancock-street, and received
by the domestic, who carried it toiler mis*
tress, who trdered it to be kept warm, and
; reserved for her lord. Ilis lordship could
I not conscientiously devour what he knew did
not belong to him, and the maid-servant had
neglected to ask the porter where it came
from or who sent if. All she remembered
was, that “the man said lie had orders to
leave it at 49. ’ But lie did not obey orders,
—or had mistaken the number. The (Jen
tleman’s appetite was keen, —the soup was
most savory,—and Launcelot held a long ar
j gmiu lit with tiohbo, in hopes of persuading
j tiohbo to divide the responsibility,—and set
J down with him to the Soup. “My dear Gob-
I ho,” said Launcelot,” “there must be some
1 mistake you know, —but then you know, my
; ( b‘ ar Hob bo, that the soup wont keep—the
weather is so warm you know; —therefore,
j good tiohbo, if you w ill help me gobble up
i this soup, you know, I will bring on a bottle
ol old I'ort, you know.”
“Verily friend Launcelot,” replied Gobho,
I am nowise inimical to the Oporto, but mv
conscience tclleth me, that this soup, apper
tained to someone of thy neighbors, and I
recommend thee to send out thy maid ser
vant, and thy man servant, thy young boys
and maidens and search dilligently, for 49
until thou tindcst it.”
Tlie advice was honest, Launcelot could
not stifle Gobbo’s conscience and so good
Launcelot, Gobho being reconciled to him
self, sent out his scouts on their errand of
mercy to find the hungry and famishing own
er of the pitcher and its contents. Their ex
ertions however were fruitless; No. 49 was
not to be found and “no body in the neigh
borhood knew nothing about no turtle soup
nor nothing of no kind, nor sort.” The cou
sequence is that the pitcher of soup will re
main where it was left, until called for.,
Boston 'Transcript.
Paris Gamine Houses.— The number of
these licensed eufers is seven, viz, four in
the Palaias Royal, one in the Hue Marivaux,
Frascati, and the Ceroie. They contain se
venteen tables for play 7 , and 150 employers.
exclusive of spies, flatcatchers, and decoy
ducks. The administration of these infer
nal regions pay annually to the city of Pa
ris, six millions, fifty-five thousand, and one
hundred francs, fur the exclusive privilege of
ruining twenty or thirty thousand families
every year; the city has, moreover, a certain
per centage upon three-fourths of tiie profits.
The bankers of the tallies are relieved every
three-quarters of an hour, and each, in his
j turn, is obliged to enter into the cabinet of
his chef, to make his report, viz, whether
there are any new faces—iiow much anew
coiner has lost—whether he played with gold,
silver, or bank-notes, and displayed much
money—whether he has a distinguished ap
pearance, is tall or short—what his ago may
be—his residence—whether he is of Paris,
or from the co .ntrv, or a foreigner. The
chef Jc jiartie (so this priviledgod inquisitor
is styled) writes these particulars in a regis
ter kept for that purpose. If the name of
the player is not soon ascertained, they give
him a supposed one, a sobriquet, ad interinin.
Lon. Pap.
From the New York Mercantile .Advertiser,
Col. RicnxKD M. Johnson.—The name
of this gentleman, was lately brought before
the country, by the report of a Committee,
of which he was chairman, on the subject of
the Sunday Mails, and more recently by the
part he took, and now takes, in matters which
resulted in the dissolution of the late cabinet.
It,has been asserted and denied, that Tc
eiunseh met his death from the pistol of Col.
Johnson—be this as it may, if our recollection
servos us, it was at least u year after the .at
tic, before this report was circulated.
From the present position which Colonel
Johnson holds, wo have judged that it might
he interesting to our readers to publish from
“A riew of the United States of America
Issued from the London Press in 1820, the
following account of the death of the celebra
ted Indian Chief, in which it is asserted that
he fell by the hand of Cel. Johnson.
DEATH OF TECUMSEII.
The Americans are now masters of Lake
Erie; but their territory was still in the pos
sessisn of Gen. Proctor. The next move
ment was against the British and Indians at
Detroit, and at Malden. Four thousand
Kentuckians, with the Governor at the head,
arrived at General Harrison’s camp ; and
with the co-operation of the ileet, it was de
termined to proceed at once to Malden,while
Col. Johnson was ordered to proceed to De
troit. On the27t’n, the troops were received
on Board, and on the same day, reached a
point below Malden ; which had been eva
cuated by the British General Proctor, who,
with the Indians under Tecumseh, had retrea
ted along the river Thames. On the 2nd of
October, the Americans marched with 3,500
men in pursuit of Gen. Proctor, and the first
day proceeded 28 miles. On the 4th, they
were detained hy an attack from a large body
of Indians, who were dispersed, and 2000
stands of arms captured ; the day following
they reached the place where the enemy had
encamped. Col. Johnson went forward to
reconnoitre, and found the British drawn up
in battle array ; their right wing consisting of
the Indians under Tecumseh, who were post
ed in a swamp. The Americans were formed
in' two lines, with cavalry in the front oppos
ed to the savages.
Upon the left, the action was begun by
Tecumseh with great fury ; and Col. Johnson,
who commanded on that flank, received a
galling lire. The combat now raged with un
usual violence ; the Indians, to tlie amount
of 1300,seemed deter..lined to maintain their
ground to the last, and the terrible voice of
Tecumseh could be distinctly heard, encour
aging his warriors, who fought round their
gallant chief with determined courage. An
incident soon occurred which decided the
contest. Col. Johnson rushed forward towards
the spot where the Indians, clustering about
their undaunted leader, contending with the
utmost fury, and found himself in the midst
of them, while a hundred rifles were aimed
at him. The Colonel, being mounted on an
elegant white horse, was a very conspicuous
object;and iiis holsters, clothes, and accou
trements were pierced with bullets; himself
having received five wounds, and his horse
nine. At the instant his horse was about to
sink under him, the daring Kentuckian, cov
eted with blood from his wounds, was discov
ered hy Tecumseh. The heroic chief hav
ing discharged his rifle, sprang forward, with
his tomahawk ; but struck with the appear
ance of his brave antagonist, and some what
startled hy the determined glance of his eye,
hesitated for a moment, and that moment was
his last. The Colonel levelled’a pistol at his
breast and they both almost at the same in
stant fell to the ground—Tecumseh to rise
no more.* The Kentucky volunteers rushed
forward to the rescue of their leader, while |
tlie Indian chiefs and warriors, surrounding I
the body of their great chieftain, fought with i
the utmost desperation; hut no longer stimu- j
iated hy his animating voice and example,
soon after lied in confusion. Near the spot ■
where this scene occurred, thirty Indians
were found dead, and six of their opponents, j
In this engagement, the British loss was nine- 1
tv foiled, and 150 wounded; the Indians left!
120 on the field. The American loss in kill-;
ed and wounded amounted to upwards of fif
ty. After the action, General Proctor re
treated along the river Thames having seve
ral pieces ofbrass cannon, and his travelling
carriage, containing all his private papers.— j
The Indian chiefs now came forward and |
sued for peace, which was granted them, on j
condition of declaring against their former 1
friends which they immediately did, and were j
supported at the expense of the American I
government during the ensuing winter. The ■
Indian war in this quarter being now at an I
end,, and the frontier secured, the greater part
of the volunteers were permitted to return
home; and Gen. Harrison, after stationing!
Gen. Cass at Detroit,,with about 1000 men,!
proceeded with tho remainder of his force, to j
join the army of the centre ut Buffalo, in Lake j
Eric.
( *Tlms full, about the fortieth year of his age,
Tcc-iimseh, the most celebrated Indian Warrior
tliotever raised the tomahawk against white men,
and with him fell the hopes ef tha Indians attach
ed to the British army. link he fell respected by
liis enemies, as a great and magnanimous chief;
for though he never took prisoners in battle, he
treated widi humanity those that had been taken j
by others; and at the defeat of Col. Dudley in i
attempting to relieve Fort Meigs, actually put to
death a chief whom he found engaged in the
work of massacre. He was endowed with a pow
erful mind, and possessed the soul of a hero, had
an uncommon dignity in bis countenance and man
ners by which marks he could lie easily distin
guished even after death, from the rest of the
slain ; for lie wore no mark of distinction. \\ hen
girded with a siik sash,and told by (Jen. Proctor, !
that he was made a brigadier in the British ser- j
vice, lie returned the present with respectlul con- j
tempt. Born with no title to command but his
native greatness, every tribe yielded submission
to him at once, and no one ever disputed his au
autliority. IBs form was uncommonly elegant,
his stature about six feet, and his limbs perfect
ly proportioned.
“The price of I.iekrtvis eternal vigilance.”
Extract of an Essay, from the Charleston
Courier, addressed to Governor Hamilton,
signetl Anti-Gui 11 dine.
At this stage of our history, sir, when you
ai; 1 youf party had fastened upon us the*
evils of which you now so loudly complain,
the State Itighia party, led on by Judge
Smith, achieved agoilist. you, a signal victo
ry, and by it overthrew in this State the doc
trines which you had so ardently espoused.
That victory’was complete; it prostrated the
energies of your party, and your only alterna
tives were to adjure your lbimer creed, or to
surrender the hope of continuing in power.
The task of your conversion did not occu
py the attention of the State Rights party;
neither did they desire to tread upon a fallen
rival. Your recantation of your former here
sies soon followed—they heard of it, hut re
served their judgment until it fruits should
appear. Engaged in a righteous and holy
cause, they advanced as its fearless cham
pions, and under the name of Jefferson, tiiey
had advanced their standard from the Poto
mac to the Mississippi. Public opinion was the
lever which they thought to use—reason and
argument were their arms, the only arms with
which they /ought. Already were they un
dermining the structure of power, which your
and the consolidationists had reared, and a
fatal blow was aimed at the American Sys
tem, tlie Tariff' and Internal Improvements.
Seven States of the Union had united in the
! holiest cause whichever awakened ihe cner-
I gies of man. From the Rappahannock to the
1 Alai >ama —from Natchez to Norfolk, but one
voice was heard—that voice was the forerun
ner of triumph to Southern Rights. Virginia
and North Carolina, and Georgia, and Ala
; bama, and even Tennessee and Mississippi
were fast by the side of South Carolina ; and
all with equal steps, and with that determin
ed moderation, which ensures success, were
advancing towards the goal of their desires.
Already nad public opinion been directed to
the mistaken policy of the Government, and
the persevering energy of seven sister States,
directed hy a common interest, by a common
! feeling, was certain of its object. Victory
had already hovered over the Banner of State
Rights, when your ill-fated party again inter- 1
fered. With a single word you have marred {
our fair prospects—you have withered our j
fresh hopes. That word lias been cur ruin. '
A stroke of lightning has fallen upon our gar- ■
den, and its green leaves have all perished, j
The ominous cry of Nullification has driv- j
cn from our side all our sister States, and wc
stand alone among our fellows, distracted in
our councils, the objects of pity, a bye-word
and a reproach among nations. South-Caro
lina that was once so honored by all, that was
the pattern of patriotism to the Union, around j
whom all her sister States always rallied with !
pride, is now abandoned by ail—her bright '
glories arc eclipsed, and her sons arc consid- i
cred but the deluded shades of tiieir gallant :
ancestois. Stat nominis umbra. These, sir,
are the first fruits of Nullification, that pre-!
cions invention of the great Political Chief
tain, whose banner yon profess to follow.
Clicrokce Y3i**i<maric*. !
MORE MISSIONARIES ARRESTED.
To the Corresponding Secretary of the Missiona
ry Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church, i
Athens, E. Term., July 16, 1831.
Dear Brother: —-The present state ofaff* |
airs in the bounds of tiie Cherokee mission !
makes it necessary to hasten on this my third |
quarterly report. Receiving the painful in
telligence, while oti a visit into West Tenues-1
see, of the arrest and shameful treatment ot i
the Rev. J. 1. Trott, the assistant preacher on
Conasauga circuit, 1 hastened to the nation, j
in order, if possible, to make soine efforts for |
his release from prison, and to adopt such mea-1
su res as were in my power for the support j
of the mission in these perilous times. When
1 got into the nation, brother Trott had giv
| e bail, and returned home to attend to the I
I duties of his charge. I then hurried on to |
i Crock Path, to attend my quarterly meeting (
j there, which was held on the 2d and 3d inst. I
j This meeting was held in that part of the J
j nation where Methodism was first established i
I among the Clierokees. The holy Sabbath j
j was a sacramental occasion, on which many |
1 happy souls rejoiced in God their Saviour.— i
! Methodists and Presbyterians on that day
met in Christian love and union around the
j table of their common Lord, and with mourn
fully glad hearts commemorated the suffer
ings and death of Cod's eternal Son and man’s
ever blessed Redeemer. It was truly a re
freshing season, and my own spirit was re
vived among those unwavering disciples of
•lestts. I obtained another school for the
Rev. J. W. llanner within the charter of
Alabama, who, the second time, had to leave
his station at Saloquoye to avoid an arrest by
the guard.
Ou the 7th inst. myself and the Rev. Mar
tin Wells, from the Chattooga station, reach-j
cd the residence of brother Trott, when we ;
were informed that he was again arrested by
a detachment of the guards on the proceed-j
ing day for the sonic offence, and had left 1
word forme to come and -echini. - Ear’y
in file morning of the Bth, I and brother'
Wells started in quest of our captured broth- !
er, and about 10 o’clock we met the guard,
with the prisoners, on a line of march fori
head quarters, having in company with broth* i
cr Troll the Rev. Mr. Worcester, a Presby
terian missionary, arrested also for residing I
within Cue charter of the state, and dragged j
offfrom a sick family. Those two
and an Indian, chained by the il, .J"
baggage waggon, were driven on } m ' t f 1
the mounted horsemen, as part of u
ishment inflicted on them for what ti ' ~a
call their obstinacy, I rode un to Col F - : i"
son, sub-commander of the Gcor-fo ’
and politely asked permission la
the He told me l could a, tL
they advanced, provided I talked 10..,u“ *
to he heard by the guard. noj " i
In our conversation I asked brother t
he had been chained the precedetj*’
He answered i„ the affirmative, sit'7
“Have they any law to chain a prisoner ■ v ’’
they have sufficient reason to believe e,??
woulu not run away?” He said, “j ... *
they have no law for it; but such a ' l }!**'
! orders,” adding that the guard wcl 1°
! inclined to lenity than even th f p '
; would allow them. I told him l" |, J j
doubt of that, but remarked, “It Sc „ n
act more from orders than from law w
when they want a law they can make ' 1
! the last expression what I ,J*'
j formed was the language used by Cel.sJ
j ford, the chief commander. Some of t|,‘i
I guard- t hen began to threaten me with an -
I rest, it I did not mind how I talked. 1'
I them I had simply expressed my op*uij 0 „ ,
I a lroctnan, without any design to r fleet '
! ,!ie P re *-’ Ht guard, who were" executing til
orders; but that if 1 had said any
; "ial,! was in their power—they coulJaj rfs
line. Col. Nelson and Srannnt T 1
Clearing the guard talking largely, ?:tl w
'up from the rear with much apparent n,
| and inquired what was the matter. 0 n bd
. i ng informed what I had said, (dll N e b 0 .
bitterly cursed me, and ordered me off i n ,
mediately. I told him that I had wid nothin
but what I believed to lie true, bn I / ia ,j m
designed to insult the guard. Jf v '„ ‘ lnor |
angry tone, ordered me “io flank off quirk
Iv,” and hacked his order with a severe threat
1 then turned off, and told the Col. at hi
command i would go: but observed a? I roil
off, (perhaps rather h istily,) (hat he voul
••hear from me again,” meaning that the pul
lie should have a statement of facts in rela
| lion to his conduct. Cos!. Nelson and Brook
then followed me up with much aliusiv
; language, and ordered me to stop. Nidso
; asked mo where 1 lived. 1 told him “J
West Tennessee.” 1 was then mule to di
mount—brother Wells ordered o!i—VcJ
and Brooks swearing that I was “the viJ
follow they had been wanting to get holdofl
After going a few steps, mv horse was taktl
from me, and sent hack to brother Well
while I was made to run on foot to get n
j with the other prisoners. A furious stoifl
I of human vengeartee was beating upon me 1
i all the violence of infuriated oaths and hoi
| rid imprecations. I was told if I opened nl
j mouth, I should be run through with thebaß
onet; and Brooks urged that 1 should rl
| ccive a hundred lashes ! I was driven thm J
I mud holes and brandies for some distmcß
hut when their anger cooled a little,lira
suffered to have equal prii ileges with tilt util
er prisioners. 1
Brother Wells met the Rev. 7>lr. T.'ionijß
■son, a Presbyterian missionary, and tnmfl
back with him, leading my horse a!on;.-l
NS hen Col. Nelson saw them following 1 , ■
ordered Wells to keep out of sight. llet’aß
foil hack seventy or one hundred yards, bfl
still kept moving on slowly. Nelson ihfl
got down, cut a large club, remounted, roH
up to Wells, and asked him why he did ifl
obey his orders, giving him a severe SnjH
on tiie head with the stick. Brother VvH
then told him lie was travelling oil a puSH
road as a freeman, which he should coniinH
todo, and went on alter the guard
got as far as he designed to go that day.
Colour I was armed with sword, pistols
club, and thus displayed his bnm ry
ing adefenci less and inollciidiiig man
!y because ho showed signs ot iVicnff-i'jH
me. H
<)n tlie preceding day, Dr. Bailor, aistß
Presbyterian missionary, was arrested I>J H
guards, chained around the neck, and
to walk by the side of n mounted
until it became so dark his life was utiH
nent danger every imr nent. He
placed behind the sol/’aer, the chair.
around his neck with, a padlock, end f" H
er end locked to a rope around the
neck. In this situation the Irorsc i-:l kjH
wards on both his riders into a jrtUcf.riß
came very near killing them both.
three of the soldier’s ribs were bmkroM
On Friday nig’ it, the 6th, Dr. ihitler FK
us at Hightower; am!, he, ?>lr.
I were chain-d together for the U’A'h
brother Tro't was chained to tie i i(lu n M
finer. OuSuii.clay evening, the ltltii,
much abuse fomi Brooks, hard nmrd
foot until I end brother Trott both
tailed, we v./i-re marched info head q
with drum and fife, in quite martial 'V
and immediately shut up in prison. *N
were enter ing the miserable and till!<? P
Brooks i Mlowed us w ith kis curses,
“Into t lent place and into hell all the
of Georgia shall go!” On that holy
wo joined and In Id a prayer meeting t*H
prison, and felt that the Cod of :
i Silf.s tvas witii us. H
< >n Tuesday, the ICtls. I was called ‘S
pear li lore the haughty Chloir;!.
mid iDiai.y heavy things to my charge*
oi which he could prove.' He it? l and
and sharp words to alarm me. Ho
be bad known that lie rouid -.iot laveH
“a ease of me,” lie would have Dial ß hfl
diers strip me, tie ur ■ to a tree, ami "iff
filly lushes! He rven seemed to
;he had not purs',ed this course wifi* V
[was fold by him that L slioi.al r-ot
within the charier of the stale, and
to leave it as quickly ns possible.
I left niv biotin r prisoners in
bavin the jn ivdege of bidding them h'f'W
1 h'lve omitted many {Kirtieuiars wlh c ‘
v et be made public. lam pr-epnrwl
that in toe present hostile incas un ’f
state towards the missionaries in fl' l ' "H
and oilier wlsifo < it i zem;, polieff prcYf* 1 ’iW
luw. Colonel Xelson fold me t.hal t'HM
dors I roni the Governor v. < re to h f*' l ■' H
sioanrics fee 1 the heat icsi weight of
and that they did not intend to show
mercy. What, will be the tcsu.lt of ■ j
measures is hard to foretell. W ,
spvc.eh and of conscience, and r-hg c l *