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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