Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by R.J. Taylor, Jr. Foundation.
About The Democrat. (Columbus, Ga.) 1830-18?? | View Entire Issue (June 25, 1831)
COS AM EMIR BARTLETT-EDITOK. 22 VIZ XU <£><£&%% IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEEK IN COLUMBUS, GA. BY C. E. BARTLETT &i It. FLATTER at Three Dollars per annum if paid in advance <or Four Dollars at the end of llie year. It is expected that all application for subscription from a distance will be accompanied *ilh the money, Advertisements will be inserted at reasonable rates Sales of land and negroes, by adniinis trators, executors or guardians, are required by law to be held on the first tuesday in the month between the hours of 10 o'clock in the ’forenoon 3 in the afternoon, at the court house of the county in which the property is situated Notice of those salos must bo given in a public Gazette sixty days previous to the day of sale. Notice of the salo of personal property must be givei in a iiko manner forty days previous to he day of sale. Notice to debtors A creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notice that all application will he made to the court of ordinary for leave to sell land must he published four months. UTLetters on business must be Postpaid to insure attention AN ENTIRELY NEW WORK. Unprecedented in this Country. “Wrinkled Mirth, that Caro derides. And Laughter holding both his sides!” The Publication trill be commenced in all Mat! next. Orders should it forwarded without debit/. PROSPECTUS OF THE COMIC MIRROR!! Illustrated by upwards of two hundred tai ica tuns, sketch's <y Comic Engravings, com bining all the interest and spirit of the Domestic, and Foreign Comic An nuals Humorous Designs, and laughable Drolleries. PRICE, ONLY' 51,50 PER ANNUM. The public have now before them the Pros pectus of a work of which Wit and Humor are to c.institute the principal ingredients The publisher has observed the avidity with which productions of similar pretensions, are sought after, notwithstanding their leaden atiempts at wit have been disfigured by coarse vulgarity, and too otleu evinced an utter disregard of de ceucy, unmindful that linin' dost words, admit of no defence; For want of decency, is want ot sense. The favorable disposition which the public have ao constantly rnai.ifeslcd towards similar at tempts to amuse and entertain, has convinced the publisher that a well conducted and pleasing meluu. e of Wit and Humour, will he extensive iy patronized Under this impression he has made extensive arrangements, to procure, at gieat cost, the best p'oductions of a humorous nature both at h' tiie and abroad, including the comic works of Hood, Cruiltsharik, and other genuine sons of l omus; the Looking Glass, an unique ntfair, with numerous olhei laughable amt nirlh inspiring subjects. It is impossible, nor sludl we think of attempt ing to give in a itioie prospectus, an adequate ilea of the variety and spirit which it shall be the constant aim ta infuse into the page,, of the Comic Mirror. It will be salisfaotory, howev er, toslirnv, bv the testimony of the most dis tinguished physicians, that invalids of almost every description will derive benefit from our labors; particularly those who are afflicted with weak nerves lowness of spirits; and complaints of a dyspeptic or bilious nature To these our work will prove invaluable, and the smile of good humour which will biighten the counten ance, and the sense of inward satisfaction and self-complacency which will assuredly put our patients in the best of humour with themselves and with the world, will induce them to thiow, forthwith, their buttles, pills, and “physic to the dogs ” vVecan on!}' specify among the general and diversified topies of the future pages of the Work: » Touches at the Pride, WI inis and Follies of the Times, in which the lash of satire Will be used with unsparing severity; but always in such general terms, and with such perfect good nature, as to give no cause of personal of fence Humours nnd Vagaries of the Police Office, where human nature is exhibited in its true co lours, nnd vice exposed in its naked deformity, only that tho beacon may serve as a warning to the dissolute and vicious Doings of Folks about town; The Ways of the World, and Peeps behind the curtain; caric atures; Tales of Humour; Sketches of wit and anecdotes of celebrated characters, men of Fan cy and Fashion, who have nothing else to do but tosmtertain their jiciglibors, and ins: ire others with tlioir flashes of wit and merriment which is ‘wont to set the table in a roa ." The wholo will he illustrated l>y numerous Comic Fngravings, executed at great expense, and which of themselves will furnish an inex haustible fund of amusement, and may', better than any’ thing else, be taken upon a dull rainv day, or serve to beguile an hour which wonid otherwise pass heavily away. Terms. — Notwithstanding the heavy expense attending the publication of ihis singular and entirely unique work, the publisher has deter mined to put tho subscription at the very lowest priec at which it can possibly be afforded, confi dently relying on an extensive patronage for re muneration. It will be published every other week, at $1,50 per annum, invariably in ad vanco Agents will be allowed a commission of fifteen per rent, on alltemiKances No un paid litters or orders without the amount of sub scription will receive any attention, as tho ex pense of the publication and the lowness of the subscription, will not wonant the publisher in doing otherwise. Address S R KRAMMER, Aprils, Igfll. Philadelphia. for the above work received at this otlioe. Lost. IOST on the road hot <ean Mnjrnolia. in the J county of Harris, and Greenville, in the county of Meriwether, a targe r etl Morocco poc ket-hook con ainino about tifieen or twenty dollars in notes on the hanks of this State: and also one promissory note executed by William Gilder to :he subscriber for ten ollars;—oho a note executed bv William Clark to John D. Par adise for eighteen dollars, thirty seven and one half cents, and some other notes and j>a:>ersnnt recollected particularly. Any inf rmation in relation to the same will he thankfully received hy tins subscriber residum near Greenville, Merritvetlter county; and all |>ersonsar« hereby esuttoned trading for the promissory’ Rotes dusvr.Ued above. JOHN CLARK THE raMOORAT. COIiITMBITS, GEORGIA,.SATUR |>AY* Jl\K 33, l§3t. THIRD VOLUME OP TUB ISUNIItIiI AND MOLTIIKKN DEMOCRAT. We would respectfully inform our patrons aid the public that we contemplate sundiy new ar i angements, and improvements, in the forth coining volume "f the Irishman ;” and w hile we gratefully acknowledge our obligations for past encouragement, we trust that an .augmen ted liberality will enable us to carry those pro jects into execution. Indeed the political as pect ot things, and the relative position in which we have voluntarily planed ourselves, would seem to demand a corresponding energy and enterprise on our part;—for we cannot con ceal from ourselves that a crisis is approaching very rapidly—il it has not already at rived— "hen every advocate for good order, and the • INTEGRITY OF Tins Usnm, must lie bold ill avowing, and zealous in propagating the tiue doctrines of the Constitution. The'enemy is rallying his forces, and augmenting his iiieai.s ot annoyance—tho most powerful engines that talent, ingenuity, or low cunning can bring to Lear, are, or will -peedily be levelled at the ven erable fabric of our institutions-—and however feeble our efforts, they must not bo wanting to “resist the foe.” With this view, w'o piopose enlarging our shoot, and giving to it the “form and pressure” of the ordinary vehicles of infor mation. The circle of our "exchanges too, has bei n considerably extended, and assistance has been secured in the Editorial department. We promise our readers a laroe accession of origin al, and an immediate transfer of such selected matter, as may bear on the great, int.ciests ot which we profess ourselves the advocates; —in short, wo aro desirous of establishing anew rora in the history of tho “Irishman Democrat,” and respectfully solicit the co-operation ot our friends. A renewal of our political professions may he considered as somewhat gratuiD u> at this peri od of our career; hut such is the general boule rersement of partios, such the open tergiversa tion, or contemptible trimmi -g, which charac terize nnd disgrace the period in which wo live, that the honest Journalist owes it to himself, no less than to his patrons, to recur frequently to first principles. In accoidanco with this con viction, we now avow our full determination to abide the issuo of those principles which aclua ted us in the outset — Irish J >isf.nthralment, and niF. Integrity or tiik American Union! Every thing hostile to the first, wo stand sol emnly and irrevocably pledged to encounter, whenever contempt or a less excuseahle feeling will permit us to do so; whatever militates iv gainit the last—no matter whence it p-oceed, or under what specious exterior it may be dis guixed. be it open suggestion. Nullification, or Hartford, or any other Convention—as Amert can-cilizcns, as men, as the reverers of Wash ington and his last precious legacy, we shall lilt up our voices, “trumpet-tongued, agaiust its deep damnation!’' Opposed as wo am. and have ever been to the Tariff, Internal linpro einents, and the whole host of kindred al>. min itions, wo shall never cease to oppose them with con titu. tional weapons; but that policy which would tear down a magnificent edifice, reared a' in calculable cost and labor, and sacrifice, be cause its latter tenants may havn appropriated it to other uses than were originally designed, is indicative of such wanton folly, or reckless ambition, as to leave us no choice between im plied acquiescence and unqualified reprohatian. W.th such measures and their authors, wo can hold neither council nor communion. We view them as destructive to the very last degree, of every thing ostimiiblo or sacred in our political existence; and comparatively insignificant as wo may seem, if our friends are not wanting to themselves nnd us, we may yet oppose a formi dable barriet to the march of ruin To this end, our columns will be open, and we earnes lv en treat the contributions of all friends of tiio U nion. “It must bn i-rf.sekved,” has already been wafltd from a qnarter, whose warning tones are at once the Hiim nons to exertion, and the harbingers of conquest. Let us not be un mindful of the call. As regards the ensuing Presidential election, symptoms by no means equivocal, have already . begun to manifest themselves, to the uttter dis comfiture of every previous prognosis Nor does it require any refined sagacity to discover their proximate cause— Jackson lias had tho firmness and consistency to frown on tho mach inations to which wo have already adverted & hence, some of those that rang ihe loudest notes of praise, aro beginning to wail their feeble cries, or to fulminate their coarsest anathemas To call this only political defection, were a fee ble phrase: in our opinion it involves a much more serious cliargo of gross moral delinquen cy, for it must puzzle even nullification sophis try itself to point on the vast discrepancies between Jackson tho idolized, and Jackson the .forsaken! In what liis he fallen short of the ; glorious anticipations, of which these very men j were the vouener* and proclaimers? What du- j tv has he neglected?' What responsit ilities has ! he evaded? W'liat recent occurrences have cast their darkening shadows over a life of unparal lelled dovotednoss. and incalculable public ser vices?— For ourselves ns we were among the first to support, wo are now confirmed in our confi and nee in the man, by the very measures that have entailed tho displeasure of his opponents; and if any nossible contingency could induce us to swerve from our fidelity, it would most assu redly be of a more important character than a personal difference with Mr Calhoun, with which the public have, properly, nothing at all to do. Andrew Jackson we now proclaim to be our first, our las'. our only, and we shall yrt live, we trust, to add, our succF.ssrei. Candidate! Let his friends come fortli boldly: the season is early, but not too early to counteract the subtle schemes, the Machiavelian artifices of his ene mies; and while ive offer cveiy facility which our columns can afford, we pledge ourselves to go hand in hand with them in whatever may promote the glorious cnu«c! Tiie proposed alteration in our paper will ne cessarily impose additional expensis, to defray which we solicit an increase in our subscription list. Tiie first number of ‘■'THE I EIiHMA.\ JjYD SOUTHEItdf DEMOCRAT," in its new form, will be issued on Saturday tho 21st of May next, at .$•! per annum payable in Advance., o'- if'3 00, if not paid within six months from the time of subscribing. t barlcston, April 2‘2. PIECES NANKEEN, a heacy ® article for Gentlemens wear. For sale by GEO. W. DILLINGHAM. BRICK. The subscriber has 120, 000 Brick, which lie will sell on accommodating terms. L. C.ALLEN. Columbus, June 4. JIE.YRI B. MKRSHOJC ATTORNEY AT LAW. |¥ \S located himself in Talbotton, & will practice Law in the neighboring coun ties. w3m. 1 Talbotton, May 14 131. POETRY. AIV CHILDHOOD'S HUME. BV MRS NORTON. I have tasted each varied pleasure, And drunk of the cup of delight; I have danced to the gayest measure In tho halls of dazzling light; I have dwelt in a blaze of splendour, And stood in the courts of kings; I have snatched at each toy that could render More rapid the flight of time's wings. But vainly I’ve sought for joy or peace, In that life of light and shade; And I turn with a sigh to iny own dear home, The home where my childhood played. When jewels are sparkling round me, And dazzling with their rays, I weep for the lies that bouud me In life’s first early days. I sigh for one of the sunny hours, Ere day was turned to night; For one of my nosegays of ficsh wild flowets, Instead of my jewels bright I weep when I gaze on the sconiless buds Which naver can bloom or fade; Andi turn with a sigh to those gav green fields— The home where my childhood played. SONG. ■ Y W ROSCOK, ES<£. Quench not the light that soon must fade, Nor damp the fire that toon must die, Nor lot to-morrow’s ills invade The lioul to-day devotes to joy. Ah! who with music's softest swell Would mingle sorrow’s piercing moan? Or to the hounding spirit tell Dow soon the charm of life is flown? Say, is the rose's scent less sweet Because its biooui must to,.n decay? Or shall we shun the bliss to meet That cannot here forever stay? No: by the power that bliss who gave, This hour wc'lltroin the future borrow, And, all that fate allows us saro From the dread shipwreck of to-morrow. MISCELLANEOUS- THE TWO SISTERS. BY MISS MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. The pretty square farm-house, stand ing at the corne r where Kibcs-lane cross es tiie brook, or the brook crosses Kibes lane, (or the first phrase, although giving by far the closest picture of place, does, it must be confessed, look rather Irish, and where the afforsuid brook winds away by the side of another lane, until it spreads into a river-lake dignity, as it meander* through the sunny plain of Hartly com mon, and finally disappears amidst the green recesses of l'inge Wood —that pret ty square farm-house, half hidden by the tall elms in the flower court before it, which, with the spacious garden and or chard behind,and the extensive barn-yards and out-buildings, so completely occupies one of the angles formed by the crossing of the lane and the stream —that pretty farm house contains one of the happiest and most prosperous families in Aberleigh, the large and thriving family of farmer Evans. Whether from skill or good fortune, or as is most probable, from a lucky mixture : of both, every thing goes right in his great j farm. His crops are the best in the par ‘ isb ; his hay is never spoiled; his cat tle never die; his servants never thieve: his children arc never ill. He buys cheap, and sells dear ; money gathers about him : like a snow-hall; .and yet, in spite of all this provoking and intolerable prosperity, every body loved farmer Evans. He is so hospitable, so good natured, so generous so homely! There, after all, lies the charm. Itiches have not only not spoilt the man, but they have not altered him. He is just the same in look, and word, &. way, that he was thirty years ago, when he and his wife, with two sorry horses, ! one cow, find three pigs, began the world at Dean-gate, a little bargain of twentj acres, two miles off; ay, and his wife is the same woman! the same frugal tidy, industrious good-natured Mrs. Evans, so noted for her activity of tongue and limb, her good looks, and her plain dressing. as frugal, as good-natured, as active, and as plain dressing a Mrs. Evans at forty live as she was at nineteen, anti in a differ ent way, almost as good looking. Their children —six “boys,” as farmer Evans prorniscuouly calls them, whose ages vary from eight to eight and twenty, and three girls, two grown up, and one not yet seven, the youngest of the family, are just what might be expected from pa rents so simple and so good. The young men, intelligent and well conducted ; the boys, docile and promising; and the lit tle girl as pretty anti curly-headed, rosy cheeked poppet as ever was the pet ami plaything of a large family. It is how ever, with the eldest daughters we have to do. Jane anti Fanny Evans were as much alike as hath often befallen any two sis ters not horn at one time.—for in the mattor of twin children there has been a a series of {Mizzles ever since the day of dromois. Nearly of an age, (I believe at this moment both are turned for nineteen, and neither have reached twenty) exactly ot a stature, (so high that Frederick would have coveted them for w ives lor his tall regiment) wi'h hazel eyes, large mouths, lull lips, white teeth, brown hair, clear healthy complexions, and that sort of nose which is neither Grecian nor Ho man. nor acquiline, nor te pettit nezre trowsc that some persons prefer to them all; but a nose which, modcrctely prom inent. and sufficiently well shaped, is yet, as far as 1 know', anonymous, although it he perhaps as common and as well looking a feature as is to be seen oa an English face. Altogether, they were a pair of tall and comely maidens, and being constantly at tired hi garments of the same colour and fashion, looked at times so much alike, that no stranger eveJ dreamed of knowing them apart ; and even their acquaintan ces were rather accustomed to think and speak of them generally as “the Evans’s” than ns the separate individuals, Jane and Fanny. Even those who did pretend to distinguish the one from the other were not exempt from mistakes, which the sisters, Fanv especially, who delighted in the fun so often produced by the unusual resem blance; were npt*to favour by changing places in a walk, or slipping from one side to the other at a tea-party, or play ing a hundred innocent tricks to occasion at once a grave blunder, and a merry laugh. Old Tabitha Goodwin for instance,who being rather purblind, was jealous of be ing suspected of seeing less clearly than he r neighbours, nnd had defied even the Evans’s to puzzle her discernment—seek ing in vain on Fanny’s hand the cut fin ger which she hud dressed on Jane’s, as cribed the incredible cure to the merits of her own incomparable salve, and could hardly he undeceived, even by the pulling off of Jane’s glove, and the exhibition of the lacerated digitul sewed round by her own bandage. Young George Bailey too, the greatest beau in the parish, having betted at a Christmas party that he would dance with every pretty girl in tiie room, lost Ins wa ger (which Fanny had overheard) by that saucy damsel’s slipping into her sister’s place, and persuading her to join her own unconscious partner; so that George dan ced twice with Fanny and not ut all with Jane. A flattering piece of malice, which proved, us the young gentleman (a rustic exquisite of the first water) was pleased to assert, that Miss Fanny was not dis pleased with her partner. How little does a vain man know of womankind! If site had liked him,she would not hate played the trick for the mines of Golcondu. In short, from their school days, when Jane was chidden for Fanny’s bad work, and Fanny slapped for Jane’s bad spell ing, down to this their prime of woman hood, there had been no end to the con fusion produced by this remarkable in stance of family likeness. And yet nature, who sets some mark of individuality upon even her meanest pro ductions, making some unnoted difference between the lanths from one ewe, the robins bred in one nest, the flowers grow ing on one stalk, and the leaves hanging from one tree, had not left these young maidens without oue great and permanent distinction—a natural and striking dis similarity of temper. Equally industri ous, affectionate, happy, and kind; each was kind, happy, affectionate, and indus trious in a different way. Jane was grave; Fanny was gay. If you heard a laugh or song, be sure it was Fanny; she who smiled, for certain was Fanny: she who jumped the stile, when her sister o jiened the gate, was Fanny; she who cha sed the pigs from the garden as merrily as if she were running a race, so that tin very pigs did not mind her, was Fanny. On the other hand, she that so careful ly was making, with its own ravelled threads, an invisible darn in her mother’s handkerchief, and hearing her little sister read the while; she that so patiently was feeding, onel>y one, two broods of young turkies; she that so pensively was water ing herown bed of delicate and somewhat rare plants; the pale stars of the Alpine pink, or the alabaster blossoms of the white evening primrose, whose modest flowers, dying off into a blush, resembled herown character was Jane. Some of the gossips of Aberleigh used to assert, that Jane’s sighing over the flowers, as well as the early steadiness of her character, arose from an engagement to my lord’s head gardener, an intelligent, sedate, and sober young Scotchman. Os this I knew nothing. Certain it is, that tin: prettiest and newest plants were al ways to be found in Jane’s little flower border; and if Mr. Archibald Maelane did sometimes conic to look after them, I do not see that it was any business of any bo dy’s. In the mean time, n visiter of a differ ent description arrived at the farm. A cousin of Mrs. Evan’s been as suc cessful in trade as hci husband had licen in agriculture, and lie had now sent his only sou to become acquainted with his relations and to spend some weeks in their family. Charles Foster was a fine young man, whose father was neither more nor less than a rich linen-drajjer in a great town; but whose manne rs, education, mind, and character, might have done honour to a VOL. I—AO. 37. lur hiirliei station. He was, in a word, one of natures geiit/cuna; and in n.oth iiig did he more thoroughly show his ow n taste and good breeding, than hv ,nt< r ttig entirely into the homely w ays and old* t '.shioned habits of Itii country cons.us. He w as delighted with the siiiiphcitv, fru gality, and industry, which blended u,.1l with the Stirling goodness and <ri-uiiine u hundance of the great English farmhouse. Tile young women especially pleased him much. They formed a strong contrast with any thing he had met with before. No finery! no coquetry! no French! no piano! It is impossible to describe (he sensation of relief and comfort with which Charles Foster, sick of musical misses, ascertained that the whole dwelling did not contain a single ins’ruuicnt, except the bassoon, on which George Evans was wont, every Sunday at church, to excru ciutetlie ears of the whole congregation. He liked both sisters. Jane’s softness A considcratencss engaged his full esteem; hut Fanny’s innocent playfulness suited best w itli liis own high spirits and anima ted conversation. He had known them apart front the first; and indeed lie deni- ed that the likeness was at all puzzling, or more limit is usual between sisters, and secretly thought Fanny us much prettier than her sister as she was avowedly mer rier. In doors and out, lie was constant ly at her side; and before he had been a month in the house, all its inmates had given Charles Foster, as a lover, to his young cousin; and she, when rallied on the subject cried fie! and pshaw! A: won dered how people could talk such non sense, and liked to have such not.sense talked to her better than any tiling in the world. Affairs were in this state, when one night Jane appeared even graver and more thoughtful than usual, and far, far, sadder. .'She sighed deeply; und Fanny, for the tw’o sisters shared the same little room, inquired tenderly, “What ailed her?” Tiie inquiry seemed to make June w orse. She burst into tears, w hilst Fun ny hung over her, and soothed her. At length she roused herself by a strong ef fort; aud turning away from her affection ate comforter, said in a low tone: “I hove had a great vexation to-night, Fan ny; Charles Foster has asked me to mar ry him.” “Charles Foster! Did you say Charles Foster?” asked poor Fanny, trembling, unwilling to trust even her own semes n gainst the evidence of her heart; “Charles Foster? “Yes, our cousin, Charles Foster.” “And you have accepted him?” inqui red Fanny in a hoarse voice. “Oh no! no! Do you think I have for gotten poor Archibald? Besides I am not the person whom he ought to have asked to many him; false and heartless ns he is. 1 would not be his wife; cruel, un manly as his conduct has been! No! not if he could make me queen of England!” “You refused him then?” “No, my father met us suddenly, just as I was recovering from the surprise and indignation that at first struek me dumb. But I shall refuse him most certainly — the false, deccitfid, ungrateful, villain!” “My dear father! 11c will be disap pointed. So w ill my mother.” ‘‘They w ill both he disappointed, and both angry—but not at iny refusal. Oh, how they will despise him!” added Jane; and poor Fanny, melted by her sister’s sympathy, and touched hy an indignation most unusual in that mild and gentle girl, could no longer command her feelings, but flung herself on the bed in that agony of passion and grief, w hich the first great sorrow seldom fails to excite in n young heart. After a while she resumed the conver sation. “YVe must not llume him too severely Jane. Perhaps my vanity made me tkiuk his attentions meant more than they really did, and you had all taken up the notion. But you must not speak of him so unkindly. He has done nothing hut what is liuturnl. You arc so much wiser, and better than 1 am, my own dear Jane! He laughed and talked with me; hut he felt your goodness—and he was right. I was never worthy of him, nnd you nrc; and if it were not for Arch ibald, I should rejoice from the bottom of my heart,” continued Fanny, sobbing,“if you would accept”—but unable to finish her generous wish, she burst into a -fresh flow of tears; and the sisters, mutually &. strongly affected, wept in each other’s arms, and were comforted. That night Fanny cried herself to sleep; but such sleep is of short duration. Be fore dawn she was up, and pacing, with restless irritability, the dewy grass walks of the garden and orchard. In less than half ail hour, a light elastic step (she knew the sound well!) came rapidly hind her; a hand, (oh, how often had she thrilled at the touch of that hand!) tried to draw hers under his own; whilst a well known voice addressed herin the softest & tenderest accents: “Fanny,my own sweet Funny! have you thought of what I said to you last night?” “Torse?” replied Funny with bitter ness. “Ay, to lie sure, to your own dear self! Do you not remember the question I ask ed you, when your good father, for the first time unwelcome, joined ns to sudden ly that you hud no time to say, yes? And will you not say yes now?" “Mr. Foster!" replied Fanny, with
