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PCBLISTTF.D EVERY SATURDAY, BY JAMES MAFFERTY, MACixrosH-jratET, orrjsirt i-o.t office. Terns of Pancr. —For a single copy, one year. Two Dollars: tor six copies. Ten Dollars; for t'xirtcea co|iics, Twrtl ty Dollars, payable in advance. Advertise nents will Ite inserted at 50 cents per square f>r the first insertion, and 25 cents tor each con inu.ince— Twelve lines toconstitute a squ ire. A liberal deduction 1 1 yearly adveitisers. No letters taken fro.n the Post Office unless postage free. O licars Au;mta tv. T. A Society. Dr. JOS. A. EVE, Pr^ipext. Dr. DANIEL HOOK, i Rev. WM. J. HARD, > Vice Presidents HAWKINS HUFF, Esq. ) WM. HAINES, Jr. Secretary. L. D. LALLERSTED F, Treasurer, mixagers; James Harper. IE E. Scofield, Rev. C. S. Dod, J James Godby, John Milledje, " Cure for the Dis'cmper in Cattle. —l cannot resist giving a receipt fnr I lie treatment of beasts that may lake the prevalent distemper. It showed itself last winter in one of mv yard stock, by discharging abundant saliva from the mouth, with sore and inflamed tongue and gums, no appetite, confined bowels, and very hot horns. I desired the bai liff to give him one half-pint of the spirit of turpentine, with one pint of linseed oil. repeating the oil in twenty-four hours and again repeating it according to the state of the evacuations. At the end of twenty hours more, the bowels not having been well moved.! repeated both turpen tine and oil. In two days, the beast showed symptoms of amendment, and in three or four took to his food again, and did perfectly well. All the yard beasts and two of the fattening beasts have had it. and all have been treated in the same with perfect success. Little beside oat meal gruel was given.— Quarterly Jour, of Agricult. Soap — A Hin' in Houxetrifery —ln summer and autumn, your soap grease is apt to accumulate beyond your immedi ate wants, if put away it is apt to ho de voured by maggots, and if made into soap, vou may not have pine or other ap propriate vessels enough to hold if. Hav jng suffered loss from being placed in such circumstances, we were much grat ified with a piece of intelligence acciden tally received, which relieved us from this dilemma. Bv boiling your soft soap with salt, about a quart of the latter to three gallons of the former, you can sep arate lev and water enough to make the soap hard. After boiling half an hour turn it out in a tub to cool. Cut the cakes which swim on the top into pieces, and having scraped off froth and other impurities, melt again (without the lev and water underneath of course.) and pour it into a box to cool. You may then cut it up into bars of proper dimen sions for drying. By adding a propor tion of Rosin, well pulverised at the lasi boiling, vou will have yellow soap like that marie for the market. lMOS©i£iL!L^^lEDiy)S B For tlie Washingtonian. THE PRISONER OP HOAIIDIL. A Romance of Granada. 4 BY MARCUS. Know yc the land where the laurel and myrtle, Are emblems ot deeds that are done in their clime 1 *»***«•** O wild as the accents of lover’s farewell, Arc the hearts which they bear and the talcs which they tell. Byron. I. Gone, forever gone, are the days of ro mance and chivalry; “like a dream when one awnketh” is their remem brance ; vet they linger in my mind, like the memory of some beautiful vision, seen hut once and then vanished forever. But still, in pouring o’er the tomes of bye-gonedayi, will imagination rollback the darkling tide of time, and reveal to mine eyes, the form of the noble war- j rior, who now lieth beneath the abbey’s pavement, bending his knee before his ladyc love, or rushing on his barbed steed j to the battle-field, with her name for a watch-word, and a braid of her hair for a talisman to guard him from danger.— And when he had won a laurel crown he would lay it at her feet, and receive for his reward the smiling glance of her ap probation. Ah ! how lovely are those Iberian maids, whose cheeks arc but tinged by their native sun, only to show ; the ripeness and passion of their hearts. Well might the warrior brave danger and death to bask in the light of their large dark eyes, so passionate and fathomless. in pu .■ ■■■■■■■ .i ■■ rn r-rrr-i munuirr.LTxm ■ vv% A WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS. Vol. III.) Whose every look was love—whose love the charm of existence. Yet there is one, sweet Aralc, and thou dwellost in my own sunny land, and thou art beneath my own bright sky. who is lovelier far to mine eyes linn my brightest dream of Eastern beauty ever revealed. ’Tis for thee I burn the midnight lamp and bond mine eve upon the classic page, and muse o’er the tomes of the olden time to garner of thoughts and fancies, and ; weave them into stories; and thy dark eye shall rest on these pages, and if I j win one smile of approbation, I do not write in vain. 11. The king of Spain is tented on the ; plains of Granada, and the confused hum jof voices fall on the ear like the tnur , muring of the distant sea. Far as the | eye can reach, the tents of ten thousand | warriors lie gleaming in the moonlight, which falling in mellow richness on the beautiful vega, robes every object in an enchanting splendor. Upon a command ing eminence in the distance, stands the marquee of the noble and illustrious Marquis dc Cabra, called by the ladies of the Spanish court, “the mirror of chivalry;” its silken banners arc float in" fitfully on the faint breeze; the gorgeous hangings glittering like burnished gold in the brightness of the Cynthian mys; and still farther in the distance, reposes the superb and regal city of Granada, whose last king is sitting on his throne; whoso rule is soon to pass into other’s hands—whose brave and patriotic peo ple had strewed the plain with their hones, and poured out their blond like wa ter in her defence. But their bones bleach'd in the blast, and the earth drank their blood in vain. They were soon to be torn from her walls, and banished for ever from the happy homes of their youthful days. There was something romantic and tender in their patriotism, which could only be equalled in the de votion of the lover to his mistress, and before the clouds of war hud gathered o’er their sky they deemed their lovely land under the especial care of the proph et; and in their warm and poetic imagi nation, they fancied that the cclcgtial paradise which is promised in the Koran, was suspended immediately over their heads; and that their own enchanting country was but a reflection of its bliss lull gardens, which are prepared for those who can pass AI Sirat’s fiery bridge in safety ; and hear the houris chanting, with theii heavenly voices, songs of wel come, and see them waving their green kerchiefs, to those bravo spirits who had lost their lives in battling against the Mazarines fur the Prophet and their ; country. 111. There was one, who sometimes ascend ed a lofty tower, the battlements of; which rose high above the rest, to gaze* j with longing eyes on the gorgeous pano- j plv of war which spread o’er the plain j that lay beneath his glance; lie was a! captive youth, whose daring soul being 1 fired with a passion for military fame,! bad made him rush into the battle-field : where ho had done prodigies of valor ■with his single arm; but in one of the skirmishes, having spurred his mettled courser too far from his followers, he was captured by the guards of Boabdil el Chico, the Moorish king. He sighed to mingle in the melee that every day oc curred beneath his eye, and in which the ; young noblesse of Spain were reaping fadeless laurels. And yet if he had been granted his liberty he would have been loth to leave the beseiged city, for although it was a prison, yet it was so pleasant a prison, that in peaceful times he would not have changed it for the power of roving free among his native hills. ’Tis strange how love will bind the heart and lead it captive, and learn it to endear places which to the passioD AUGUSTA, (.A. MARCH 8, 1845. | less would prove irksome. Thus it was with Juan, the young count dc Cabra, who, though confined within the city, had all the courtesy paid to him which i his rank and bravery deserved; for al though Boabdil was fierce and haughty to the Spaniards when battling against them, yet he was mild and lenient to the vanquished who fell in his power. Juan had gazed on the form of Zuleika, one of the loveliest flowers of the Alhambra. | and togaze on Zuleika was to love ; and Juan’s eyes had taken such a deep : draught of her beauty, that his only hap | piness was to listen to her sweet voice land walk with her in the gardens of the palace. And oft at moon light would he stray at her side, among the gushing fountains, sparkling in the clear light, | and whisper tales of passionate love in j her willing car; and oft benonlh her lnt- I tice has his tinkling guitar poured forth strains of sweet melody, and liis rich voice rose on the breeze in amorous song i to tell her that his soul was entranced i with her loveliness, and how he would ; win a laurel crown and lay it at her feet, j And oft would her delicate hand wave from the lattice in token of approbation, ito the minstrel beneath Ah! what on earth is more dear to the youthful heart, when the first fires of love arc burning in their virgin flame, upon its altar, than the approbating smile of its mistress. It was on a soft and balmy evening that the young lover stole beneath her lattice, and looking around saw that all was still, he heard no sound save the warbling of of the nightingale or the falling spray from the fountains, so hanging his guitar around his neck he sung to an exquisite melody, a ditty which he had oft heard among the cavaliers when sera nailing their ladies. I. Though the nightingale mav sing, love. Bright stars shine in the skies, They no solace to me bring, love, For 1 sigh to see thine eyis. If. My song must vainly prove to tell, love, How much my heart is thine, Thy glance has houml it in a spell, love, And it boweth at thy shrine. 111. Their light can only cheer the soul, love, That pineth for a gleam, Then qui. kly hack the lattice roll, love, That mine eyes may drink the beam. The music ceased, and a delicate hand - rolled the lattice softly hack, and the I maiden, beautiful as creation’s first born ! daughter, stood revealed to the eves of jtho young cavalier. “Beloved,” said ■ Juan, “ I have waited an anxious hour to hear thy sweet voice.” “Ah, Juan, I was thinking of thee when thy soft mel ody stole upon mine car,” returned the maiden, “yet it makes me sad.” ‘The air is one that mv mother used to sing before her spirit fled from Earth to — j Heaven,” added Juan, as the girl paused. ! “ Ah Juan, the Muftis say that the Propli et has written that women arc like (he j fragile flowers, that bloom beautiful on ! earth, hut have no home in paradise.”— “ Believe it not,”said Juan, “ for heaven ! would be no paradise to me, if thou wert j wanting. The Prophet ought to have his beard pulled for writing it; and as for the Muftis, if I ever get without the walls of Granada to grasp my Toledo blade again, I will send a half a score of them to Eblis for preaching it.” “Dost thou then sigh to leave Granada. Juan,” said the maiden, rather reproachfully. “Beloved.” said Juan, “to leave Grana da without thee were to die, yet my soul pineth in this dull inactivity; I see our glorious banner floating on the vega, and my heart swells at the trumpet’s sound, to mingle in the fight. Only say, love, that thou wilt fly with me, and ere long we shall he free as the breeze, I have bribed Agerbia, the sanfon, to aid us in escaping.” “O Juan,” said the girl, “trust not the santon, he is cruel and de ceitful, and will ensnare you; once he : sought my love, but I scorned him, and now he does all he can to persecute me.” i As the girl spoke, the leaves rustled near i tljem, and a form flitted across the gar den walk ; Juan put his hand to his side for his sword, forgetting he was a prison* ■er. “Fly! Juan, fly!” said the fright* ened Zuleika, “wc are overheard, and j you are in danger.” “One kiss, love,” i said Juan, seizing her hand, and pressing it passionately to his lips. Then Auios fell on his car, and the lattice dosed. IV. The morning rose in beauty in the eastern sky, and poured its golden light on tower and tree —atagan and arquebus gleamed around the palace of the Aben cerragcs, and the divan was assembled in the council chamber. “ Where is tl.c | scornful Nuzarine,” cried the king, “where is the Christian dog, who has despised our kindnts? and laughed to scorn our holy prophet? Bring him forth ” and his heard curled with ire.— “He comes,” said the santon, Agerbia, making way for the prisoner; and in a moment Juan stood before Boabdil, and gazed him in the face with an undaunt ed look. “Juan do Cabra,” said the king, “you arc summoned to our pres ence, to hear the charges made against you by the good Agerbia. We arc loth to give you to the headsman without heating if you have any cause why you should prove ungrateful to the kindness you have received of us. Your king, whose lent is pitched outside (lie city, treats my people like dogs when they fall in his power, but thou hast forfeited the kindness with which we are wont to treat the unfortunate.” “ I have naught to say, O king, in my defence : I spoke against the Prophet and the Muftis, and sought to escape—if these are my crimes lam guilty. I will not he!ie the words spoken in the garden last night, they came from my heart, and if rny trusty sword had been by my side, your eaves dropper had not told liis tale this morn ing,” and the prisoner looked vengeance at the santon. “Then Juan de Cabra,” said Boabdil, turning pale with anger, “hear thy doom. Thou shalt die.”— Juan bowed bis bead. “Slave!” cried the king to a tall muscular African, who stood behind the throne, “thy bow-; string.” The headsman advanced.—; “ Hold ! O king,” said the brave war- ; rior, Ben Muza, who stood near the I monarch. “ Hold ! and spare the young j soldier. The santon is a villain, and de-1 serves the bowstring more than the Nnz !urine; he has played the traitor. Zu jleika is my neice, and the Iraso-santon ; loves her ; hut she has scorned him away, j jas unworthy of her noble heart. He is j j jealous of his successful rival, and has played the caves dropper to deliver him | up to thee, O king, that lie might have revenge; at least thou wilt spare the i Mazarine until another sun has lit the sky, that he may die in peace.” “Even j jto thee, Ben Muza, will a prayer be de nied,” said the king, “yet the Nazarinc may live till sunset.” The prisoner bowed, and the divan adjourned. V. Juan de Cabra sat in liis prison, bis heart was sad, he thought of his home, he thought of Zuleika ; but he thought more of the ignoble fate that awaited him, yet he could die without a murmur, if he could press Zuleika to his bosom before he died. As he sat brociding over his unhappy doom, the door of his prison opened and the noble Ben Muza stood before him. “Nazarine,” said the war rior, “I have seen thee in the battle-field j when our charging host have dashed amain. I know that thou art brave and thy soul grieves to die by the hand of the African. Yet thy late is fixed ; Bo abdil. who is ruled by the council of the santon is not to be moved. If I can serve thee in aught, my heart is willing. It is not thus the brave should die.”— WASHINGTONIAN TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE. l| Jj We, whose name* are herennto an nexed, desirous of forming a Sociitv fuf our mutual benefit., and to guard against a pernicious practice, which is injurious to our health, standing and families, do : pledge ourselves as Gentlemen, not to drink any Spirituals or Malt Liquors, : lVinc or Cider. [No. 34 1 hanks, noble Ben Muza,” said Juan, “thou art like myself a soldier, and to die on the battle-field would be glory. I have no boon to crave that thou canst ! grant, save that I might sec Zuleika once ! more before I die.” “ Dost thou love Zuleika, Naznrine?” said Ben Muza. “ Dost the dove love its mate?” answer* od Juan. “Thou shalt see her,” said the Moslem, and he departed. A heavy and weary hour had rolled away with Juan, when a neatly attired young page with a silver sheathed atagan hanging at his side showed the signet ring to the guard, who looked at him stispcciously and then let him enter, and in a moment Zuleika was locked in Juan’s arms.— All! how had the sky of their fortunes changed since hist they met; it was clouded forever. They had but few words for tears took the place of speech, and it was not until they’ were to sepa rate that they felt that bitterest of hu | man pangs, the parting of lovers forever ; | yet lie looked nobler in her eyes, at that | hour of death, than she had ever beheld him in his happiest days. VI. The last rays of the setting sun were lingering on the towers of Granada, and they cast a melancholy gleam upon the palace of the Aliencerrages. When the young, the brave Juan de Cabra was ltd forth to meet his fate, he stood beside the African with calmness awaiting his doom, and never did Naznrine or Mos lem behold so brave a front presented to the monster of the grave ; his dark hair parted over his forehend and flowed in rich prolusion upon his neck ; his dark flashing eye was bent upon the peifidious snnton, who stood paces from him } and when the to arrange the bowstring he sprang, like a tiger, upon the wretch and buried his stiletto to the hilt in his breast, nndthesanton rolled down upon the earth a bleeding corpse* A hurst of execration went up from the crowd. The African threw the chord upon the neck of Juan and gave a short quick jerk ; there was a convulsior.—a gasp, and the soul of the Naznrine fled to the land of spirits. There was a beautiful page stood by the side of Ben Muza, looking with weeping eyes upon the scene, and when the African unloosed the chord, and laid Juan on the ground a stiffening corpse, there went up from his lips a heart-piercing shriek, and then his form “ Fell to the earth like a stone, Or statute from its base o’erthrotvn.” And the noble-hearted, brave Muza shed tears quick and free upon the inanimate form of the still lovely and beautiful Zu leika, who lay dead at his feet. Matrimony. —Don’t he in a hurry to “pop the question,” young gentlemen. A friend of ours courted a lady for twenty-eight years, and then married her. She turned to be a perfect virago, hut died in less than two years after her wedding. “Now.” said our friend, in a self congratulating tone, “see what I es caped from a long courtship.”— Noah. Noali is an old fool, and don’t know what he is talking about. His friend kept his “gall” in suspense, lingering along in that hope which “ maketli the heart sick,” and after having soured tho milk of human kindness in her heart, and made her a shrew by twenty-eight years’ tantalizing, he married her, and then quarrelled because the tender fresh ness of ripe youth was gone ! What a stupid blockhead. If you feel a hank ering after a tender morsel of humanity, just set aside a reasonable time for the glorious and ecstatic bliss of courting— say from three weeks to six months—and then marry her, while her young heart is full pulsed with love, and her soul mould ed itself to your thoughts like virgin wax. Wait twentv-eight years! Fid* dle-de-nonsense! Noah is an ass—-so he is.— Corporal Streeter. An Irish paper mentioning the wreck of a vessel, near Sherries, rejoices that ‘all the crew were saved except feto hogsheads of tobacco,’