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.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 *