The Democrat. (Columbus, Ga.) 1830-18??, July 02, 1831, Image 1

Georgia Historic Newspapers

The Democrat., July 02, 1831, Image 1

About The Democrat. (Columbus, Ga.) 1830-18?? | View Entire Issue (July 2, 1831)

Page of 4

Prev Issue Next Issue

Text PDF JP2 (3.9 MB) Clip/Print Image

Page of 4

Prev Issue Next Issue

Return to Top

Newspaper Page TextCOSAM EMIR lIARTLETT-EDITOR. IS PCIILISUED EVERV WEEK IN COLUMBUS, GA. BY C. E. BARTLETT &l R. SCATTER at Three Dollars per annum if paid in advance or Four Dollars at the end of the year. It is expected that all application for subscription from a distance will be accompanied with the money, Advertisements will be inserted at reasonable rates. Sales of land and negroes, by adminis trators. executors or guardians, are reqiiiird by Taw to be he'd on tiie first tnesdav in the month between the hours of If* o'clock in the forenoon h- 3 in the afternoon, at the court house of the county in which the property is situated. Notice af these sales must he given in a public Gazette sixty days previous t.o the day of sale. Notice of the sale of" personal property must be givei in a like manner forty days previous to he day of sale. Notice to debtors A creditors of an estate must be published forty days. Notico that all application will he made to the court of ordinarv for leave to sell land must ho published four months. O’Letters on business must be Post paid to insure attention. (ff* We are authorised to announce Gen NICHOLAS HOWARD ns a candidate to represent the County of Muscogee in the Sen atorial branch of the ne*' Legislature. June 18 O’VVe are authorised to announce JOHN \1 PATRICK as a candidate for Tax Collector of Muscogee county, at the ensuing January elec tion. Feb 10. tdc o*We aie authorised to announce G. VV. DILLI MID as a candidate for Clerk of the Stip ior Court of Muscogee county, at tho next Jan ary election. Feb P 2. tdr. - ___ ENTIRELY NEW WORK. Unprecedented in this Country. “Wrinkled Mirth, that Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides!'' , The Publication will be commenced in all May next. Orders sherutd be forwarded without delay. PROSPECTUS OF THE come niißmm:: Illustrated Inj upwards of two hundred Carica tures, Sketches V Comic Engravings, com bining all the \ntercst 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 thorn the Pros pectus of a work of which Wit and Humor are to constitute the principal ingredients The publisher lias observed the avidity with which productions of similar pretensions, are sought after, notwithstanding their leaden aticmpls at wit have been disfigured by coarse vulgarity, and too otten evinced an utter disregard of dc ceucy, unmindful that Immodest words, admit of no defence; For want of decency, is want ot sense. The favorable disposition which the public have so constantly manifested towards similar at tempts to amuse and entertain, has convinced the publisher that a well conducted and pleasing melange of Wit and Humour, will be extensive ly patronized Linder this impression ho has made extensive arrangements, to procure, at gicat cost, the best productions of a humorous nature both at home and abroad, including the comic works of Hood, Cruikshank, and other genuine sons of Contes; the Looking Glass, an unique afFiir, with numerous olliet laugitablc ana mirth-inspiring subjects. It is impossible, nor shall we think of attempt, ing to give in a mere prospectus, an adequate idea of the variety and spirit which it shall be the constant aim to infuse into t ie pago« of tho Comic Mirror. It will be satisfactory, liowc.v er, to show, by the testimony of the most dis tinguished physicians, that invalids of almost every descript.on will dome liencfit from our labors; particularly those who are afflicted with weak nerves lowness of spirits; and complaints of a dyspeptic or bilious natorc To these our work will prove invaluable, and the smile cf good humour which will brighten the counten ance, and the sense of inward satisfaction and •elf-coinplaccncy which will assuredly put our patients in the bust, of humour with themsclvos and with the world, will induce them to thiow, forthwith, their bottles, pills, and “physic to the dogs.” VVc can only specify among the general and diversified topics of the future pages of the work: Touches at the Pride, Whims and Follies of tho Times, in which the lash of satire will he used with unsparing severity; but always in such general tcims, and with such perfect good nature, as to give no cause of personal of fence Humours and Vagaries of the Police Office, where human nature is exhibited in its true co lours, and vice exposod in its naked deformity, only that the beacon may serve as a warning to the dissolute and vicious Doings of Folks about town; The V\ ays of the World, and Peeps behind the curtain; carle* nturos; Talcs of Ilonvmr; Sketches of wit and anecdotes of celebrated characters,men of fati ev and Fashion, who have nothing else to do lmt to entertain their neighbors, and ins; ire others with their flashes ot wit and merriment which is ‘wont to set tho table in a roa The whole will he illustrated by numerous Comic t njrravings, executed at groat expense, and which of themselves will furnish an inex haustible fund of amusornent, and may. better than any tiling else, be taken upon a dull rainy day, or serve to beguile an hour which wonld otherwise pass heavilv away. Terms.—Notwithstanding the heavy expense attending the publication of ihis singular and entirely unique work, tlie publisher has deter mined to put ihc subscription at the very lowest price 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 aiiumn, invariably in ad vance. Agents will bo allowed a commission of fifteen per eehl. on all remittances Noun paid letters or orders without the amount of sub scription will receive any attenti-ji, ns ihe ex pense of tho publication and the lowness of the subscription, will nut woriant the publisher in doing otherwise. Address tS It KRAMMKR, April 5, IB'.ll. rhilnilelphia. ol7”B4iil>sri|»tioni* for the above work ceceived nt thin office. PORK AN!) MACKEREL. VFRW barrels in foe* order, received by the Georgian nnd for ante by geo. \v. dillingham. March 4,1831. a If THE DEMOCRAT. €OLIJHBUS, GEORGIA, SATI-KttAY, JtEY 2, I§3l. THIRD VOU ME OF THE IKIMiH iA AND SOUTHERN DEMOCRAT. We would respectfully inform our patrons and the public that we contemplate smithy new ar alignments, and improvements, in the forth coming volume of ‘the Irishman and while 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 of things, and the relative position in which we have voluntarily placed 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 ve-y rapidly—if it has not already arrived — ; when every advocate for good order, and the ‘intf.gruv of Tuts Using, must be bold in avowing, and zealous in propagating the true doctrines of the Constitution. The enemy is rallying his forces, and augmenting Iris means id annoyance—the most powerful engines (list talent, ingenuity, nr low cunning can bring to '.ear, arc, or will peedily be levelled at the ven erable fabric of our institutions—and however feeble vur efforts, they must not bo wanting to “resist the foe." With this view, we pmpose enlarging our sheet, and giving to it the “form and pressure" of tho ordinary vehicles of infor mation. The circle of our exchanges too, lias bei n considerably extended, and assistance lias been secured in ihe Editorial department. We promise our readers a large accession of origin al, and nn immediate transfer of such selected matter, as may bear on the great inleiests ol which we profess ourselves the advocates; —in short, we are desirous of establishing anew mra in the history of tho “Irishman Sr Democrat." and rospecttully solicit tho co-operation ol our friends. A renewal of our political professions may be considered as somewhat gratuitom at this peri od of our career; but such is the general huvle ri rscment of parties, such tho open tergiversa lion, or contemptible trimming, which charac terize and disgrace the period in which we live, that the honest Journalist owes it to himself, no less than to his patunns, to recur frequently to first principles. In accordance with this con viction, wc now avow our full dclornimutisn to yibido (ho issue of those principles which actua ted us in tho outlet —lrish Disenturalxknt, AND HR INTEGRITY OF THE AmF.RICAN Union! Every tiling hostile to the first, wc stand sol emnly and irrevocably pledged to encounter, whenever contempt or a less exeuseable feeling will permit us to do so; whatever militates a gainit the last—no matter whence it proceed, or under what specious exterior it may be diß guixed, bo it open suggestion, Nullification, or Hartford, or any other Convention—as Ameri can-citizcns, as men, as the reverers of Wash ington and his last precious legacy’, we shall lift up our v lices, “trumpet-tongued, against its deep damnation!" Opposod as wo arc, andhavo ever been to the Tariff, Internal Improvements, and thu whole host of kindred abominations, we shall never cease to oppose them with con tilu tional weapons; but that policy which would tear down a magnificent edifice, reared at in calculable cost and labor, and sacrifice, be cause its latter tenants may have 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 reprobatiur. With such measures and their authors, we can hold neither council nor communion. We view the.in as destructive to the very last degree, of every thing estimable or sacred in our political existence; and comparatively insignificant as wo may seem, if our friends are not wanting to themselves and us, we may yet oppose a formi dable harrier to the march of ruin To this end, our columns will be open, and we earnestly en treat tho contributions ot all friends of the U nion. “It must be i’Reserved," has alicady been wafti and from a qnartcr, whose warning tones are at once the summons to exertion, and the harbingers of conquest. I .et us not be un mindful of the call. As regards tho 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— Jacksok has had the firmness and consistency to frown on the mach inations to which we have already adverted & hence, some of those that rang tho loudest notes of praise, arc 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 tuorc serious charge of gross moral delinquen cy, for it must puzzle even nullification Sophis try itsclfto point on the vast discrepancies between Jackson tho idolized, and Jackson the forsaken! In what has he fallen short o( the glorious anticipations, of which those very men were the vouchers and proclaimed? What du ty has lie neglected? Wlmt responsibilities has he evaded? recent occurrences have cast their darkening shadows ovei a life of, unparal leled devotedness, and incalculable public ser vices?—For oiAfcclves as we were among the first to support, we are now confirmed in our confi d nee in the man, by tho very measures that have entailed the displeasure of his opponents; and if nnv possible c.mtingcncy could induce us to swerve from our fidelity, ii w mild most assn redly be of a more important character than a personal difference with Mr. C-ai.iioun, with which the public have, properly, nothing at all to do. Andrew Jackson wo now proclaim to be our first, our las'., our only, and wo shall y t live, we trust, to add. onr sitCE-sri't, Oakiuiiatk! l-et. his friends come forth boldly: the season is early, but not too early to counteract tho Btibile schemes the Moebiavelian artifices of his ene mies; and while we offer every facility which our columns can afford, we pledge ourselves to go hand in hand with them in whatever may promote the glorious cause! The proposed alteration in ot*r paper will ne cessaiily impose additional expenses, to defray which wc solicit an increase in our subscription list The first number of - “77/K MiSHMAA jjSti SOUTHt: A'.v VKMl’Clt.lT,'' in its now forili, will be issued on Saturday 'ho 21st ot May next, at $3 per annum payable in .Idnivrr, or $3 :0, if not paid within sit months from the time of tubscribing. < charleston, April 2*2. niX ES NANKEEN, a heavy article for Gentlemens wear. For sale by GEO. W. DILLINGHAM. BRICK. The , subscriber has jgo, 000 Brick, which he will sell on | accommodating terms. L. C.ALLEN. Columbus, June 4. HENRY U. MERSHON ATTORNEY AT LAW. HAS located himself in Talbotton, & will proc iee Low in the neighboring conti - tict. * 3 "’- T*n>t>Uoa. Mrj 14 131. POETRY. 1 bough Mrs. llemans* popu'arity is said to have declined of late, judging from tho manner 'ii which her pieces circulate in our periodicals, she is still as great a favorite in this country as any living poet. The fact is, that though from the moment her lyrics were collected into a vol ume the charge of mannerism, amounting to monotony, was made good against lior; yet ta. king inort of these pieces by themselves, there is so much earnestness, truth and real poetry in them, that they stand almost any test except be ing tried by pacli other. Their faults are not those likely to affect the taste of the reader; and their merits are such as to make them well wor thy of preservation. Few will question the beauty of the following, which, though it lias appeared before, will boar repetition:— THE FOUNTAIN OF OBLIVION “Imp! ora Fate!" One draught, kind Fairy' from that fountain deep, To lay the phantoms of a haunted breast. And lone affections, which are griefs, to steep, In the cool lmney-dews of dreamless rest; And from the soul the lightning-marks to lave— One draught of that sweet wave! Yet, mortal, pause! within thy mind is laid Wealth, gather’d long and slowly; thoughts di vine Heap that full treasure-house; and thou hast in a do The gems of many a spirit's ocean thine; Phall the dark waters of obltVion bear A pyramid so fair? Pour.from tho fount! am’ let the draught efface All the vain lore by memory’s pride amass’d, So it but sweep along tho torrent’s trace, And fill the hollow channels of the past; And from tho bosom’s-inmost folded leal, Base the one master-grief! Yet pause once more! all, all thy soul hath known, Loved, felt, rejoiced in, from its grasp must , fade! Is there no voico whose kind awakening lone A sense of spring-time in thy heart hath made? No eye whose glance thy day’-dreams would re. call? —Think—wouldst lliou part with ail? Fill with forgetfulness!—there are, there ace Voices whoso music I have loved too well; Eyes of deep gentleness—but they ate fair.— Never! oh—never, in my home to dwell 1 Take their soft looks from off my yearning soul Fill high th’ oblivious bowl! . - Yet pause again—with memory wilt thou cast The undying hope away, of memory born? Hope of re-union, heart to heart at last; No restless doubt between, no rankling thorn! Wouldst thou oraso nil re cords of delight 'a hat make such visions bright? Fill with forgetfulness, fill high!—yet stay— 'Tie from the past we shadow forth the land Where smiles, long lost, again shall light our way, And the soul's friends be wreaths in one bright band: —Pour the sweet waters back on their own rill, I must remember still. For their sake, for tho dead—whose image nought May dim within tho temple of iny breest— For their own love's sake, which now no earthly thought May shake or troublewith its own unrest, Though the past haunt me as a spirit,—yet 1 ask not to forget. MISCELLANEOUS. TIIL MAN WITH THE MUSTA CIIIOS. It was a warm Saturday afternoon in August that a horseman turned up to the inn which fronts the stecpleless meeting house of a small village in the interior of New England. As usual in the warm Saturday afternoons of Summer, the male portion of tl>e villagers were assembled at the tavern —some drinking punch like water, and others, the regular old soakers, discussing the merits of pure ‘New-Eng land.* Some were stretched out half a sleep, and if the truth must be told, hall'- intoxicated, under the shade of two ven erable elms which overlooked the high way in front of the itm, and others were seated in the window seats of the bar room gravely arguing upon matters spiritual & political. But the unusual appearance of the stranger roused every one into the atti tude of curiosity. He was mounted on an elegant horse, and, as he feigned him up in a graceful mannerTicfore the door, every eye was turned upon him. He was somewhat tall; with a diminutive waist, which would hare answered to the simili- tude of Fnlststff—“an Eagle’s talon”— and legs of most inordinate length, tar nished with close covering of light cloth: looking for all the world like a couple of ox goads with cel skins drawn over them. His dark frock was (indy contrasted with his light vest, and open Ixwom ornament ed with pearl, studs nnd glittering safety chains. A hrotul stock of black silk ele vated bis chin to an angle of about forty* live degree*, nud supported a collar ot lin en, starched to the stiffness of sheet iron, uutl which protruded on each side of his cilia like the horn of a Rhinoceros. A- Irove, a huge pair of whiskers extended Iron, ear to car with the trifling exception of a square inch or two of his chin, over which the tonsorial implement had evi dently passed. His upper lip was gar nished by enormous mustaciiios, which bristled fiercely upward, and covered a übiety of either cheek. His hat was most exquisitely small, cone Lite, and pitched with admirable effect upon the left side of liis head, while huge masses of hair, tumbled up carelessly at his tem ples, were left wholly, uncovered. The stranger dismounted and entered the inn without deigning to glance to the right or left. “He’s a Spaniard or Por tuguese,” said one in a low whisper to his companions.—“ Look at his beard,” said another. “Oh, what legs,” said a third. One after another tile loungers gave in their opinion, and none could a gree as to the precise character of the w alking phenomenon before them. An old sailor insisted that lie was a 1 itrkish Bashaw; while an itinerent preacher as strenuously affirmed that the being who bad appeared “in such u questionable shape” was none other than the famous Lorenzo Dow. The stranger had in the mean time reached the centre of the bur room. El evating a glass to his eye lie looked round for the first time upon the company. “Landlord,” said he, “show me my room, and let me have supper immediately.” “Our supper is just ready, will you take a seat with us,” said the landlord. The roan of mustache and whiskers, took off his hat, ran his lingers through his hair, until it stood out as widely as the locks of a lapland wind stealer. “Sir,” said he, “I am a gentleman, and choose to eat alone—damme if I don’t.” And he looked round on the company with the most sovereign contempt. From this there was of course no ap peal, and the man of whiskers was shown to his apartment, and supper was prepar ed agreeable to his directions. The wai ting maid was none other than the lair daughter of the innkeeper, a girl in her seventeenth year, with a bright black eye, and dark natural ringlets falling over her plutnp shoulders. The whiskered gentle man, as the bright Ilehc seated herself at the table to wait upon iris gastronomic op erations, stared at her lor some time with the most provoking assurance. The girl blushed up to the dark shadow of her ringlets. “Curse me,” said the gentleman at last, “but you are a devilish handsome girl.” The fair water blushed yet deeper; and tried to smile away her confusion. Lucki ly for her, the substantial fare of the table at ‘hat moment caught the eye of her ad mirer, and completely occupied ull his faculties for the next half hour. The supper finished, the stranger arose, strutted to the glass, pinched up his dick ey, and twisted his muslacbios into a still fiercer erection. “Ila, my pretty miss,” said ho, ns he flung his arms rotlnd the neck of the fur waiter, who in the performance of her household duties had chanced to approach him: “You’re too handsome for a coun try girl.” And he bent his whiskers to her face, and attempted a kiss. The mustachios would unquestionably have suffered, had not the fair one’s hands been filled with the emptied dishes of the supper table. As it was, she bounced out of tlie room in high dudgeon; and our somewhat disconcerted hero was left to his own reflections during tlie remainder of the evening. The girl as was undoubtedly her duty, immediately related the circumstances of the offence she had received at the bauds of the Whiskered traveller to the keeper of her father’s bar room, who had for some time been her acknowledged lover. She shouldn’t have cared so much about it, she said, if the fellow had looked and act ed like a Christian: but to have such good for-nothing heathen poking his beard in her face, was what she wouldn’t bear nor touch to —she knew she wouldn’t.—The swam forthwith resolved upon vengeance, and that very night was fixed for its exe cution. It was midnight,—all was still in the inn, save that here and there the sonorous nose of some uneasy sleeper, “made the night hideous” with somniferous melody. The stranger in mustachios had fallen in to a quiet sleep, with his pillow so ad justed as to prevent any collision with the hairy appendages of his count nance. He was roused into consciousness by the eutrauce of the stout bar-keeper uud his pretty waiter of the preceding evening. He rubbed his eyes and raised himself half upright. The bar-keeper placed a basin of warm water, u shaving box and razors, and a huge pair ol sheep shears upon the stand nt the bed side. “What do you wan'!” demanded the whiskered gentleman in a tone vacillating between resolution nnd terror. “To shave you,” was the laconic reply. In vuiu the dandy remonstrated, swore and wept by turns,—the bar-keeper was inexorable. Brandishing his naked ra/.or, he commanded him to be quiet, uiderthe penalty «>f a elipi>ed weusand. Exhaus ted by agitation and terror, our unfortu jinte hero sunk down U(K»n bis pillow, and suffered the brush to pass over his coun tenance, The girl, with a grin of most exquisite satisfac‘ion, held the light-, w hilt her lover applied his dull and ragged ra- VOL. MO. J /.or to the hairy honors of the dandy | Whisker and mustache f<JI one after the other—all bountiful as they were, -nud dearly treasured as they had been. The wretched stranger, like the wounded Rob espierre, lay with his eyes closed, and si lent, save when a dull groan or smother ed curse told that the tonrori.d instrument acted in the double capacity of cicufjng knife and stump digger, “Now for his hair, Janes” said tire lum ber, and the formidable sheep shears went clipping amid the curled and perl'iuncd locks of our hero. In a few moments lie was left wliiskerlcss and hairless, an ex cellent candidate for a v i?. “Good night to ye, Mister,’’ sakLjhe barber, ns lie gatherob up hjs apparatus ami If. the room. The next time you iry to kiss a country girl, you’ll huve.u smooth face for it. Tire next morning at breakfast, inqui. ries were made relative to the gentleman in whiskers, and the landlord on enter ing his room found it completely vacated. The hero had disappeared, leaving no thing save h s hair behind. The ostler stated that jnst at day light a w dd-look ing, bald-headed being came rushing into the stable, and demanded his horse. It was no sooner furnished than lie threw himself into the saddle and plunged into the high-way with the speed of life and death. The facts of the case soon ap peared, and the melancholy mishap of the dandy with the imistnchios, became a standing subject of merriment to tire ten ants and loungers of the inn. [New- England Rcviete. Frrm the New- York Mirror. TIME AN D TRUTH - An ep ilogue. . Among the daughters of Time, tho youngest and best l>t loved, w its a b> au tilul maiden railed Truth. It was fore doomed at her birth that she should be incapable of fraud or deception; that wherever she came she should remedy the evils Os falsehood anti calumny, put to flight forever the errors of mankind, and banish doubt, darkness, and uncer tainty from the fare of the earth. In short, she was to be omnipotent and c ternal. Time, who was forever in motion, 6c. never staid a moment in one place,could not endure to be without the society of his favorite ehi/d: und as soon as she grew up, insisted oil her accompany Ing him every where. Being about to mike the circuit of the universe he accordingly rook her by the hand, and they Journeyed together. Time had wings, but Truth had none: and it was soon found that she could not keep up with the old men, who, though his head was almost bald and his beard white as the driven snow, could travel day and night, over hill and dale, sea 6c land, through Hir and fire, without ev er resting or being fatigued. Impatient of delay, and incapable of restraining the impetuosity of his motion, he soon grew tired oftbeslow and feeble steps of his daughter, who w’as timid as u young fawn, and looked about, before, behind, on every side ere she ventured forward; and telling her he could not wait for her tardy motions, hade her join him without fail at the end of the world. Time soon finished his tour round the globe, but Truth was far behind, and as he had sworn never, to wait for any one, the old man turned round to make another tour, and met his daughter a bout half way on her journey. As long parted! friends love to tell each other ad that has passed in their absence, they related their adventures. “Onedny,” said Time, “I met a wife whose rash husband had turned her from his door, and divided her from her children, on account of some unfound ed jealousy. I would have stayed to make up the quarrel nnd convince him of his error, hut I knew you would soon come and set all right. I hope thou didst make my words good. Didst thou in terfere in behalf of one of Ihe sex?” “Alas father, the poor abandoned wife was dead before I came. Grief and shame driven her to despair, nnd she perished by her own hands.” “Wliat a pity? but let us go on. Next I met a young man who had been cross ed in love in consequence of calumnies that had poisoned tlie mind of his mis tress. A little onward and I encounter ed the young woman herself, who was pining away broken hearted at the sup posed infamy of her lover. I rould not stay to remedy their sorrows, but told them my daughter Truth, was just be hind, nnd would soon bring about a good understanding.” “Alas! alas!” eiied the maiden with tears in her eyes, “I dime too lute. The youth had become a sot and a gamester, and the poor girl had died of a broken heart.” “Thou art destined, it seems, to be always too late. I wish thou vvouhlst go forward instead of looking nil round, and feeling thy way like a blind man.” “Ah! father,” replied she, “ how should I be'assured cf being always right. If I did not first sec which way I was going!” “Next,” continued old Time, “I came, into a city where a man had been con denned to death for u crime of which which he whs iunocent. I would have stayed to do him jnstire, but my mo ments were too precious, and I knew you Were close nt hand. Didst thou save him from the gallows?” “No—l did not arrive in season. I saw his body banging in chains; but I did justice to bis memory. Better late than never, father.” “Hum; h!” said the old man, ‘After this I arrived in a country where tho