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AMID
pp*
• ——“A poet's hand and prophet’s lire,
Struck the tv lid warblings ofhis l}’rc.”
BY T. K. HEBVEY, KSQ.
The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water : the poop was beaten
gold :
Purplo the sails; and so perfumed that
The winds were iove-sick with theta : the oars
were silver ;
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and
made
The water which they heat to follow faster,
As amorous oftheir strokes.
Shah-pear
I.
Flutes in the sunny air !
And harps in the porphyry halls !
And a low, deed hum, —like a people’sprnyer,-
With its heart breathed swells and falls!
And an echo, —liketho desart’scall, —
Flung back to the shouting shores !
And the river’s ripple, head through all,
As it plays with the silver oars !
The sky is a gleam of gold 1
And the amber breezes float,
Like thoughts to be dreamed of. —but never
told, —
Around the dancing boat'
11.
She lias stepped on the burning sand!
And the thousand tongues are mute!
And the Syrian strikes, with a trembling hand,
The strings of his gilded lute !
And the yEthiop’s heart throbs loud and high.
Beneath his white symur,
And the Lybian kneels, as lie meets her eye,
Like the flash of an Eastern star!
The galea may not be heard,
Vet the silken streamers quiver,
And the vessel shoots,—like a bright-plumed
bird, —
Away—down the golden river!
JII.
Away by the lofty mount! \
And away by the lonely shored
And away by the gushing of many a fount,
Where fountains gush no more !
t >h! for some warning spirit, there,
Some voice that should have spoken
Of climes to be laid waste and bare, ,
And glad, young spirits broken !
Of waters dried away,
And hope and beauty blasted !
—Tiiat scones so fair and hearts so gay
.Should he so early wasted 1
TV. ;
A dream of other days!—
That land is a desart, now !
And grief grew up, to diin the blaze
Upon that royal brow ! '
The whirlwind’s burning-wing hath cast
Blight on the marble plain,
And sorrow—like the Simoom —past
O'er Cleopatra’s brain!
Too like her fervid cline, that bred
Its self-consuming fires, — . *
Tlieir breasts—like Indian widows—fed
Their own funeral pyres !
—No words like those her minstrels sing,—
“Live,beautoeue, and for over !”•
As the vessel darts, with its purple wing,
Away—down the golden river!
Literary Souvenir. i
i
•“Live for ever—tlm oriental form of salu
tation to princes. i
From the. Providence American .
THE DEPARTED.
When first creation sprung to light.
Obedient, to a Sovereign nod, i
And all looked beautiful and bright,
Before the perfect eye of God ;
When earth anew created thing,
Leaped forth in heaven with joy’us spring,
And, tothe Spheres harmonious chime,
Commenced the glorious iuarcb of time.
Then, in yonfirmanent’s broad arch,
Unnumbered worlds together met,
And, moving onward in their inarch,
Their glowing seals in union set:
Anti there all beautiful they-clioue,
Together still, vet still alone,
Brightdiamonds ic the crown of Heaven,
Like dovv-drops in a summer even. :
Then, when the shadow of the night
Came down o'er Earth with vesper dew.
Those'worlds appeared, a lovely sight,
■ln heaven, to man’s enraptured view,
lie gazed,and wondered ; for the sky
They looked down swsetly, gloriously,
W hile, silently as time, they went
Their swift way thro* the firmament.
Time, thus went on with tireless w ing,
Long ages o’er creation rolled,
lkit still those stars were clustering—
Long worn by age—yet never old ;
They shone as brightly still, as when
They smiled above Earth’s first-born men ;
As when, so soft, so sweet, arid long,
They Chimed creation's morning song.
And yet oil were not there, the wheels
Of some had ceased to move in Heaven*
Apn their joyous course; the seals
Were broken which they once had given,
r i he light which made them lovely, shone
No more on earth, for-they were gone ;
IWan mourned when o’er those, gems of pride 1
ObLviuii rolled his noiseless tide.
~ So must the beautiful of Earth
Bow to the.mandate of decay ;
Beauty, wit, wisdom, friendship, worth
"Must like a dew-drop pass away;
Ye i, they must pass, earth cannot keep
Her brightest, bait, from death’s long sleep ;
The spirits wlii ’h they claim, must burn
•Beneath .the silent mouldering urn.
■I bus they Awe passed from earth : the good—
J hose whom we loved, for whom we wept.
Let n<> unhallowed steps intrude
l pon the lowly couch of sleep,
"Where silently and still they lie,
Beneath one canopy, the sky ;
Beyond the power ot worldly cares,
bk, “be- ink's lotnphaih'j and its snares.
It were not meet that man should dare,
To wish his loved ones here again ;
Their dwelling-place is holy, where
1 he passions of unrighteous men
Cloud not the brow, nor dim the eye,
Nor wake one thought of agony :
Their home is Heaven—the gladly rest
M itiiin its portals, with the blest.
*The “lostPleaid,” besides several other fixed
stars which have become invisible.
TANARUS/w ~jihct I!(mint.
THE PARTING.
Will you never forget— never'! “Never?”
ami the rocks und the trees and the stars look
ed in their profound silence as listeners to
the low and earnest tone; and then the spring
ing night lireozc gave a voice to the leaves
and the waters tiiat seemed to say— we arc
! the witnesses! —There was none oilier, save
' the two hearts that here for the first tunc read
in each other the history ofa burning passion,
and after a shorter acquaintance than is gen
erally supposed necessary to inspire mutual
attachment, plighted to each other tlieir un
changing faith, as if it were the consumma
tion of years of affection. There is some
thing beautiful in the unreservedness, the
unsuspecting trust with which a youthful and
generous heart gives up jts affections, its
hopes, all its chances of happiness, to the
heart of another; something which when con
trasted with the well regulated, calm, calcu
lating feelings of maturer years, seems to
bring the dream of the Pythagorean philoso
phers even into this life, and make of the ex
istence of man two separate beings. There
may be something in the human heart to j
compensate for the loss of its first fresh feel
ings; the love given in after years may be
the ore purified by the ordeal of many clian
ges; or, perhaps, the heart does not so lean on
j kindred hearts for happiness or sorrow, when
' time has drawn it -as it were out of itself in
the pursuit of honours, or fame, or power, or
know ledge. And kindred spirts may be,
not those who together look on the beauti
ful sky and the flowery earth and tho dreamy
play of waters, and kindle their vision of ro
mance, and draw tlieir plans of years of hap
piness—the living, thrilling happiness of
youth, unshaded and unsubdued/ not those
who together dream the dream of holy and
devoted Jove; but those who are linked in
friendship or rivalry in the same career of
ambition—those who have together looked*
in the arcana of worldly policy—those who
are mutually necessary to each other in Teach
ing the high places of life; and the hopes and
pleasures and anticipations of other days,
may be as a beautiful dream, which is for
gotten in the hour of awakening or remem
bered without a sigh.
it was an evening late in summer, when
the sweet promises of spring seem realized
in the splendid garniture of the earth, and
thosmallj pale blossoms that spring up among
the meadow grass had given place to the
fragrant and glowing flowers of summer, that
they who had vowed by all that was sacred in
heaven, or on earth, to subdue the obstacles
tiiat opposed them, and meet again, or die,
clasped in one hurried caress, hands that
perhaps might never again be joined,and par
ted. it was the very si ason of love, of the
richness and rnatmity of its passion; when
the still air is heavy with incense, and the
flowers seem sunk in a luxurious slumber,
and the stream passes with a deeper murmur,
and the sky wears a darker blue, and the stars
look down like the eyes of gentle spirits up
on the array and magnificence of beauty.
But that night the picture seemed sadder, and
the pale light that silvered the deep green of
the forest trees looked as if passing through a
misty veil; for the heart robes nature in joy
ousnes or gloom, and sees the very sunshine
darkened when a cloud passes over the bo
som. And they who Were now to part, though
with flic consciousness of being beloved, of
tm affection returned with all the ardour and
truth with which it was given, bow much of
gloom v.as mingled in tlieir l'urewi II! The
posibility of never more meeting—of passing
all the long, dreary years of life, their sorrows
and tlieir joys unshared; each to tread a dif
ferent and distant path;—or, if they might
yet meet, the long, long time that wouid in
tervene—the gloom—tile anxiety—the life
wearing sorrows of absence, stealing tin
light from the eye and the buoyancy from the
spirit—and withal the task of pride to conceal
j the secret pang, the trembling sigh, and
thoughts, that leave -the check pale—to meet,
with hearts so worn and wearied with the in
tensity of a passion cherished in hopelessness
and solitude, that the fresh and beautiful
glow of early love has passed away; and the
reward of undying constancy, the assurance
ot never again enduring the agony of parting,
is received rather as a hope ot' rest for an
o’erwearied -spirit, than its the consummation
or the e.xtatic and delicious promises of
I youth.
And thus they parted; there was no adieu;
it would have seemed to their excited feel
ings the fiat ol’their doom to part forever; yet
it might have been said, for that long gaze
I into each other’s eyes, and that warm press
| ure of the hand, was the last. A tear tretn
i bled in the lover’s'eyes as they parted;—but
|tlm world has power to dry up the heart’s
fountains, and the pride of rmmlinrss wears n
j stern lip and a careless brow; and he went
j forth to the ambition, the amusements, the
; distractw ns of earth, end the tear sunk hack
upon his heart—yet there was no shame in
that tear—it sprung from the sorrow of deep
and generous love-—it-was the expression of
pun: and unsophisticated feeling, ere earth
had claimed the heart for its sacrifice.
Years paesedover trie beautiful spot where
they parted, and the rocks echoed the sound
of young voices, and light steps were on the
flowe rs, and warm hearts and fond words were
by the p'ensunt stream—hut not theirs. They
went forth alone to mingle ‘ in the false pa
geantries of the world—alone to stand among
the beautiful greenness of summer, and cal!
j up the dreams of other days, and Jive over i
i scenes hallowed in memory, and awake front
the reverie to find themselves alone.
\\ by was it so? could vanity, or pride, or
ambition, could the scorn of others, almost
always in such cases insincere, break the
fliains that the deep affections of the heart
hid woven? They did not change, thev who
beneath the liirlit of that summer evening,
pledged the truth of fervent hearts—the
(lowers and sky and stream that were around
them then, came back like a beautiful vision
in many an after hour of loneliness and
gloom—and the full and undoubting trust in
each other’s affection, the belief, to them the
certainty, that, could they meet, it would he
with the same truth and fervency of love with
which they parted, that they were still to
each other the centering of every fond and
regretful thought. It was the melancholy so
lace of hearts, to whom the world of the af
fections, the endearments of social life, the
sweet offices and soothing words of kindly in
tercourse, existed only iri the feverish hap
pirn ss of dreams, or an imagination which
amid the pursuits and occupations of life con
tinually reverted to the past, and gathered
from the treasures hoarded up in memory a
look, a tone, a movement, a sad or a merry
glance, aJI hallowed by love’s devotion, all
softened, yet distinct and perfect, and giving
to the reveries of fancy the vividness and col
ouring of reality.
AN INDIAN STORY.
It was a sultry evening towards the last of
June, 1722, that Capt. Ilarmon and his eas
tern rangers, urged their canoes upon thi
Kennebec River, in pursuit of their savage
enemies. For hours they toiled diligently It
the-oar—the last trace of civilization was
left behind—and the long, long shadows of
the skirting forests met all blended in the
middle and broad stream, that wound dark I v
through them. At every sound from the ad
jacent shores—tlie rustling wingof some night
bird, or the thick footstep of some wild beast
—-the dash of the oar was suspended, and the
ranger’s grasp tightened on his rifle. All !
knew the peril of the enterprise : and that'
silence, which is natural to men who feel
themselves in the extreme of mortal jeopardy,
settled like a cloud upon the midnight ad
venturers.
“Hush—softly men!” said the watchful
Harmon, in av oice, which scarcely rose above
a hoarse whisper, as his canoes swept around <
a rugged promontory, ‘there is a light ahead!”!
All eyes were bent towards the shore. A
tall Indian fire gleamed up amidst the great
oaks, casting a red and strong light upon the
dank waters. For ti single and breathless
moment the operation of the oar was suspen
ded, and every one listened with painful ear
nestness to catch the well known sounds,
sounds, which seldom failed to indicate the
propinquity of the savages. But all was now
silent. W ith slow and faint movements of
the oar, the canoes gradually approached the
suspected spot. The landing was effected in
silence. After moving cautiously in the dark
shadow, tlie party at length ventured within
the broad circle of the light which at first at
tracted their attention. Ilarmon was at their
head with an eye and a hand as quick as those
of the savage enemy whom besought.
The body of a fallen tree lay across the
path. As the rangers were in a point of leap
ing over it, the hoarse whisper of Harmon a
gain broke silence—
“ God of Heaven!” lie exclaimed, pointing
to the tree—“see here! tis the work ot the
cursed rod-skins.”
A smothered curse growled on the lips*>f
the rangers as they beriUv grimly forward in
the direction pointed out by the commander.
Blood was sprinkled on the long grass—-and
a human hand—the hand of a white man, lay
on the bloody log !
There was not a word spoken, hut every
countenance worked with terrible emotion.
Had the rangers follow*d tlieir own desperate
inclination, they would have hurried reckless
onward to the work of wngeance ; hut the
example of their leader, who had regained
his usual calmness and si-lf command prepa
red tin in for the less speedy, hut more effec
tual triumph. Cautiously passing over the
learlul obstacle in the pathway, and closely
followed by his companions, lie advanced
stealthily with his party as much as ]ossiblc
belli ml lie t hick trees. In a tew moments they
obtained a full view of the objects of their
search. Stretched at tlieir length around a
huge fire, but a convenient distance from it,
lay the painted and halt naked -savages. It
was evident from their appearance, that
they had passed the day in one of their horrid
revels; and they were now suffering under
the effects ot intoxication. Occasionally, a
grim warrior among them started half upright
grasping his tomahawk, as if to combat some
vision dt his disordered brain, hut unable to
shake off the stupor from his senses, uniform
ly fell hack into his former position.
The rangers crept nearer.—As 'they bent j
their keen eyes along their well-tried rifles, 1
each felt perfectly sure of his aim. They 1
waited for the signal of I lunnon, who was en
deavoring to bring his long musket to hear■
upon the head of the savages- Fire ! ho at
length exclaimed, as the sight of lii-s piece
interposed full and distinct between his eve
and the wild scalp-lock of flic Indian. “ Fire
lie at length exclaimed, as the sight of hisi
piece interposed full and distinct between his
eye anti the wild sealp-lock of the Indian,
I “I* ire, and rush on ?”—The sharp vioce of
thirty rifles thrilled through the heart of the
forest. There was a groan—a smothered cry
—a wild convulsive movement among the
sleeping Indians, and all again was silent.
The Tangcrs sprang forward with their chib,
bed muskets and hunting knives/ - but tlieir
work was done. The red men had gone to
tlieir last audit before the<treat Spirit: anil
no sounds wore heard among them save the
gurgling of the hot blood from tlieir lifeless
bosoms.
EDITORIAL REQUISITES.
D’lsraeli has written a very pretty series
of works on the calamities arnimisfortunes of
authors. He never could have taker! into
consideration the miseries of Editors. Let us
suuply the omission.
Yesterday, {whether from the tedium of the
hour, or a desire for instruction or Amusement
—let tho reader judge which—)we dipped
into Rees’s Cyclopaedia, and accidentally o
pened on the article Gazette or ISewspaper.
Listen, reader, tothe formidable list of du
ties imposed on the unhappy being, whose
adverse fates have doomed him to the pen,
the pen.knife, and the scissors!
l)r. Rees says:
‘‘Gazettes, which most people look on a
! trifles, arc by some held as the most difficult
; kind of compositions that have appeared.
| They require a very extensive acquaintance
I with the languages, and al! the terms thereof,
; and a great facility and command of writing,
and of relating w ith perspicuity and in few
j w ords.”
“To write a gazette, a man should he able
i to speak of w ar, both by land and sea; he thor
oughly acquainted with every thing relating
to geography, the history of the time, and that
ot the noble families,[it will be borne in mind
that the Cyclopaedia was w ritten for the mer
idian of Europe] with the general interests of
Princes, the secrets of courts, and the manners
and customs of all nations.”
‘A ignuel do Marvilie recommends a set of
Gazettes well written, as the fittest books for
the instruction of young persons.”
Therefore, gentle reader, in future, when
criticising articles in a nevvipaper, pray tem
per justice with mercy. Bear in recollection
that an Editoi should he both a soldier and a
sailor; that he should he a proficient in ge
ography, an accomplished linguist, a genealo
gist, fluent in composition, an historiographer,
well versed in the annals of both ancient and
modern times, a diplomatist, acquainted with
things in gener.d, and all other things besides.
And all this is exacted from the Editor of a
daily publication! And this, too, is laid down
as an ortlidox doctrine, in a standard work
of great and deserved merit; a work, con
ducted by, and contributed to, by some of
the first literary men of the age.
We can scarcely refrain, though not in a
tone of levity, (for a glance at our leger, w ith
its long array of unpaid subscriptions, effec
tually banishes ail such feeling,) we can
scarcely refrain, we say, from illustratingthcsc
“miseries,” by a reference to one of Dr. John
son’s oriental apologues. In "Rasselus, Imlae,
the preceptor of the young Prince, enumera
ting the qualifications of a Poet, describes so
many, that the Prince at length interrupts
him with, “Enough—enough, you have con
vinced uic there can never hr a poet!”
It must he equally difficult to find an Edi- 1
tor, according to the sentiments of the w orthy
Dr. Rees.
Curious Epitaph. —ln an ancient manu
script deposited in the British .Museum is the
following copy of a curious epitaph, said to
be inscribed on a piain marble stone, in mem
ory of an eccentric being who filled the offi
ce of post master to the town of Saizwedel, in
the parrish church of w hich place he was bu
ried:— Traveller, hurry not, as if you were go
ing post-haste—in tlie west rapid journey
riu must stop at the post-house? Here repos*
os the hones of Mathias Schulzen, the inost,-
hurnble and most faithful postmaster for up
wards of twenty-five years, of his Magcsty, i
Frederick, King of Prussia. He arrived in |
1f55; by holy baptism lie was marked on the
postmap for the the celestial hand of Canaan, i
lie afterwards travelled with distinction in
life’s pilgrimage, bv walking courses in the
school and universities, He carefully per
formed his duties as a Christian, and when
the post of misfortune came, he behaved ac
cording to the letter of divine consolation.—
His body, however, ultimately being enfee
bled, he was prepared to attend the signal
given by the post o death, when lus sou! set
off on her pleasing journey for Paradise, the
2d ot June, 1711, and his body afterwards
was committed to this silent tomb. Readt r,
in thy pilgrimage, be mindful of the pro
phetic pest of death!”
From the Columbus Enquirer.
Messrs Editors —The cultivation of the
ine, is a subject that has, of late years, exci
ted the lively inti rest iff a great number of
the citizens of Georgia. 1 for one have un
dertaken and entirely devoted myself to that
culture; and although scarcely a twelvemonth
has elapsed since my arrival in this state, I
can say w ith perfect confidence that I have
fully succeeded. Thc eoii and climate is per
fectly adapted to that -culture, producing an
abundance -of grapes, and consequently ex
cellent w ine. The experiments which I have
made to naturalize the vine, have fully suc
ceeded, and on the 16th of August "last, I
made several bottles ot Burgundy, which may
well he termed Via Nature! le, the pure juice
of the grape only, w ith no mixture of Sugar and
Alcohol. Tt was tasted two days after having
been made in Hamilton, and all the connois
scurs have agreed in saying that it surpasses
the different wines which have already been
made in Georgia: since it has had more age it
has improved in quality and taste; it is clear and
agreeable, and I am certain that it differs wide
ly from tlie other Georgia wines. The older
it gets,the more consequently it w ill improve
in quality. A great economy cau he perceived
in this manner of making wine, for if the
cultivation of the vine is generally underta
ken and made upon this principle, w ine will
become very cheap, and those who make
their wines with a composition of Sugar and
Alcohol will he forced to abandon that method.
1 have no doubt nut that in time, the wines
made in Georgia will vie with any of the Eu
ropean wines, and the method pursued by me
is almost as simple as the planting and raising
of corn. Those who arc desirous of seeing
the process can do so by calling at the Her
mitage, one mile anil a half from Hamilton,
Harris county, where vines can he seen
scarcely three years old, loaded w ith fruit, a
circumstance seldom or I may say, never vet
seen in Europe, hut at the end of six years.
They can also soe a second crop hearing of
fruit in appearance much larger and better
than the first, a thing unknown in Europe.
Persons who are desirous of cuttings will
fine a fine collection of them of different sorts
and qualities both for wine and tal l use ; also
3,young sprouts which will produce
j grapes next year.
| ’ J. F. B. BESSON.
Knur months after (late,
. A rPLICATIDN will bemjde to the Inferior
< 'ourt of Bibb county, when sittimr f,, r Ordi
nary purposes, for leave to sell the real estate of
the heirs of Hugh McLeod and Joseph Clark, dec.
for the benefit of said heirs.
ISABELLA C(,ARK, Guardian.
_? T Jg 9 1 __ 7-.Hn
Wauled l Hire.
A LOOK, for whicli liberal wages !
a * will be given. Apply at
KNOX, ( ANTK\n & Co’s. Coaohshop, I
( orner of Walnut and Fourth, str'ts.
Mac on Sept. 7, 1831. n.7t v ' ’
amim*
TREATY WITH FRANCE.
The New York Mercantile Advertis
er states “that Simeon Draper. Esq. of
tiiat city, passenger in the sliip Formosa,
Captain Orne, arrived on Tuesday eve
ning, is bearer of Despatches from Mr.
Rives, to our Government. Among tlie
despatches is the treaty lately concluded
with the French Government by our
Minister at Paris. An article appeared
in the Journal du Havre of sth July on
the subject of this treaty, which is not on
ly prematura and unauthorized bat in
correct in many of its details. \Ve learn
by Mr. Draper, who obtained his infor
mation from Mr. Rives—tiiat the a
inount of claims to be paid by France for
spoliations of American property, is
twenty-five millions of francs, payable in
six equal yearly instalments, with in
terest at the rate of 4 percent per annum
from the date of the treaty being ratifi
ed by our government, which interest
will swell the amount to about twenty
eight millions live hundred thousand
francs.
“Mr. Rives has stipulated on behalf
of our government, the payment of one
million live hundred thousand francs, in
settlement of the Beaumarchais claims.
“T hat wines, (white and red) shall
lie admitted in our country on the follow
ing terms;
Wines in bottles, shall pay 20 cents in
place of SO ; in casks 10 cents, in place
of 15.
All other wines now paying 10 cents,
shall he admitted at 6 cents duty.
“The French government, on their
part, stipulate to relinquish all the Lou
isiana claims. That American long sta
ple cotton shall be admitted at 20 francs
per 100 kil. (the same duty as short sta
ple pays) in place of 40 francs, as now
charged.”
The packet ship George Canning, at
New York, brings London and Liver
pool papers to the 23d July inclusive
The annexed items are contained in the
New York Courier, Journal of Com
merce and Daily Advertiser.
The Reform Bill was in debate in the
House of Commons, and its provisions
were disputed by the opposition with
great pertinacity, but no anxiety was
felt for its fate until it reached the House
of Lords. The affairs of France, Poland,
and the Continent generally, principally
occupy public attention p and although
we have nothing decisive as to tlie course
of events on the Continent, y et the aspect
of affairs portends a war.
The new Legislative bodies in France
were about to lie convened ; and much
curiosity appeared to prevail with regard
to the contents of the king’s speech, par
ticularly in relation to Poland. It would
seem. by newspaper speculations in
Paris, tiiat some expectation was enter
tained that Great Britain and France:
would interfere in behalf of the Poles.
Little has been done in Poland, on ,
•either side, since tlie dates of our last ac
counts : hut in general, the patriot cause
appears to he gaining ground. “The
Poles are increasing the regular forces,
not only in the vicinity of \\ arsaw, but
in Lithuania, where the new levies are
being organized with great spirit and a-
Jacrity. A few days w ill likely bring
us some accounts of an important nature,
for the Poles w ere on the eve of taking
decisive measures. Asa proof that the
insurrection iu Yolliynia and Podolia!
prospers, two thousand well-armed Po
doliati cavalry have arrived at Zamosc
to assist the Poles.”
Leofoi.ij lias been received y, ith en
thusiasm in Belgium, and inaugurated
King admidsttlie rejoicings of the peo
ple. He has announced his intention not
t° draw his pension from England while j
King of the Belgians.
I liv Cholera lambus is raging with!
undiminished fury, and great precautions j
are taken to prevent its entrance into
j France. *1
On the 14th July, the anniversary of
Hie takingof the Bastile, an attempt was
made by a few individuals to create a
disturbance ; they appear however, to
have been few in number, and to have
been easily put down. Some arrests
were made, and among others, General
Dobourg.
The French papers state that the re
port of war still continues in the Rhenish ;
provinces, and the preparations making
there seem to confirm it. Already the
banks of the Rhine are crowded with
Austrian troops’. A train ot 50 pieces|
ol cannon lias passed the Vaudron to pro- ■
eeed to Sarrelouis. The 4th corps of!
the Prussians have passed the Rhine at!
Mayence : also 244 pieces of artillery.
Ihi Berlin State Gazette mentions
that the cholera morbus at Cracow!
where it had been concealed when it first
broke out, makes great havoc, especial
Iv among the Jews. I p to July 7500
jews, and 200 Christians have died
ol it.
h r Mj l i!tc Jl nris Jour, ih Commerce July 17
“D was yesterday announced on
hangc tiiat Austria, alarmed at the
progress of the cholera morbus, was re
solved to join wiili France and England
m remonstrance to Russia, and the Funds
had in consequence risen considerably at
Vienna. Me do not know whether these
reports are well founded with respect to
Austria, but the union of France and
England, with a view to put an end to the
struggle between the Poles and the Czar,
cannot he doubted ; and the sympathv j
winch is more manifested by the'
Hungarians lor the Poles niav in the end
influence Austria.
j “A letter from Prague
The Leipsie Journal, says ! '' * 1
j Hungarians continue to present ? flt
: Emperor, and to tlieir voub ki ‘ h T
ANARUS! [>os.ils in favor of Poland, q-i. ‘ 0 .“
| even offered 100, out) men. Ti '• ,aV(i
i to lay this affair before the
to demonstrate that Poland ami
i have always assisted each oifo, ??
not the Emperor Francis have L , '
to listen to these repiesentations •’
“ l’o this news another piece of
gence was added.—that of the deal, J,'
Emperor Nicholas. What may , ' w
tor this report is the circumsfonae 7-
i tlie Emperor delivered to the SenaiJ“' U
the latter end of June, a sealed 1. a *
which he declared contained iff'?
will.” 115 Ji ‘st
We received last night the Frond, *•
pers ot W ednesday and Thursday, t
| they contained nothing worthy "of, '
| particular notice. All the attention \
the speculators was concentrated
( the meeting of the Chambers, Jd
j t ;l k.es place this day, and not on T/w?
! <la J last: ,JUt t!, °y sevan as much at fuff
as ever as to the tenor of the [?,„•
opening Speech upon that occasion 7
| seems to he admitted that Ministers hue
felt some difficulty in coming to • l ( |.
cision upon the great questions of foiei?
and domestic policy which now press ui
ion tlnir attention, and the apprehension
, is gaming strength amongst tlie Liber
als that tlieir disclosures will lie unsat
isfactory. We shall very shortly see
Tlie Dutch papers, which have hem
received tothe same date are silent upon
the intentions of the King 0 f Ho land as
I to Belgium, so that the question of war
or peace is still undecided.
The death of the Grand Duke Constan
tine is officially confirmed. The cholera
appears to be making frightful ravages
at St. Petersburg, where it will be seen
some disturbances have taken place. R
is said that Gielgud, tho Polish General
w as surrounded by two Russian corps in
Rosienna, and that he must either sur
render or take refuge in Prussia.—
From the main armies there is nothing
conclusive : tlie Polish Commander-iii’-
Cliiel had left Warsaw to join the army,
and as tlm Russians were advancing to
meet him, a battle was shortly expected.
The Prussian State Gazette of the loth
July devotes much of its Sparc to the af
fairs ol Poland, hut does not gi c any
new fact of importance respecting them.
Mention is made, under th** head of War
saw, of an attack on the Russians near
thetownoflMowsk, in which the Poles
are said to have been successful, and to
have taken 40 prisoners. No details,
however, are given of this allied
battle.
General Gielgud is now reported to
be iu R: siwerm, and his main force en
camped between the rivers of M ilimand
Swienta. The Vistula, it appears, had
risen considerably, and would probably
afford obstruction tothe march of tlio
Russian troops. Tlie Gazette on thy au
thority of Warsaw Courier, asserts the)
report of the taking of Wijna was lioq
correct. It also mentions a rumour that
the Countess Plater had been taken pris
oner.—Courier, 22.
“Our accounts from Lithuania are
highly satisfactory ; the province is in
toll insurrection, and even the women
are lighting in the ranks. Polnngen is
stated to he in the power of the insur
gents: and even the Berlin State Gazette;
is compelled to admit that Skrzynrcki
has resumed ail offensive attitude and is
pressing hard on the retreating Russians.
Paris, July 18—General Dulmmg
was arrested on the 141li of July, at live
o’clock in t’*c morning, in a medical es
tablishment to whicli he had retired on
account of his infirmities. He was still
in bed when tlie summons w as announced
to 1 1 un as suspected ofa plot tending to
overthrow the Government. This Gov
ernment order was connected by tim
Judge’s instruction with a Mandat dej
Depot, for a plot against the safety cf
State and the distribution of cartridges.
W e have spoken of the arrest of sever
al superior officers at the llot'd lies Inva
lides. Besides M. Renant Secretary ot
the Governor, w e hear to-day of writs
issued against Messrs. Delisle. Colonel
Rousseau, ami Bourgeosi, Adjutant
Major. ' ___
SHERIFF’S S \LF.B. J
For Octobf r
Pike snltv.
11 ill he soldut the Court-house iu the tuvm'of C ,l ‘
hu ton, on the first Tuesday August next,
t bNK negro man by the name of Sam, abontD
VF years o!.l, levied upon as the property ot f i
ffiarine Tla<nm, ,f) satisfy a laortgaweii fa in f r
ot !So\V( 1 Wciolfolk vs. said Catharine Kagan-
J. R.CUIJ‘EPPER.Ey J
8188 SALES:
YiniX be sold, at the Court-house
▼ Bibb count}’, on the-first Tuesday in 6 c! ’
her next
House and ground on which it stand*, eeerp*’
rd) y Ifufus R, Smith, as the property ot I’ t ' ,! l
P. Rockwell, to satisfy afi fa from Biib tyf"
ricr Court, in favour of Anson Kimberly, yla'iivy
trutor of Nathaniel Cornwell dec’d v.s. said I’ o< v
well. .
Alto, one mahogany side hoard, one P ;, ', r £ u
mahogany card tables, one mahogany
hie, and ends, one tine sofa, one dozen n |ir
chairs, and one mahogany stand—levied
tho property of Win. J. Ihinelly, to satis!}' 1 '
nations in favor of Al. I), lliison, and other?, •
sued from liibb Superior Court.
WM. B. CONE, Shrif t
AllJllMS PH. p l V HX/li ,.
11 ill be sold' f the Court-house in the town of • '••■ '
on the first I'tieit/uy in November nert,
V NEGRO man named Toni, about 25 ) r
- old, a valuable boat hand. Terms m-"- 1
known on the day of sale.
Catharine E. Hammond, 1 dn>
Of E. Ilanunoiid. <■' ’•
Sept 5 R-tds