Newspaper Page Text
aWWMWWBgaMWPgagEMjMiIIII 111 I .ill, "j vmaaaaeKs+ae^vz jtTjimCTi "Wl-mm l. ■JSWMnawnHß3BloFllliDrtlTHßa3toMnsM»'"3T» I I |'| |,| " I,r gBMIB—HMHWiHJ J
BY P. €. ftIUKIJ, I AUGUST A, (Ga,) FRIO AT, SEPTEMBER 19. fiS34. VOL. XII. NO. 27.
THE COY^TITLTIOIVALIST.
I’ublikhcd every l uc.ila) uud Friday.
IN MACINTOSH* STREET,
Third door from the north-west corner of Broad-Streel.
•JJiln of LAND, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, are
required, by law, to be held on the tiret Tuesday in the month,
between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after
noon, at the Court House in which the properly is situate.—No
tice «f these sales must he given in a public Gazette SIXTY
DAYS previous to the day of sale.
: Halcs of NEGROES must be at public auction, on the firstTues
day of the mouth, between the usual hours of sale, at the place
of public sale* in the county where the letters Testamentary, or
-Administration or Guardianship, may have been granted, firs*
giving SIXTY DAYS notice thereof, in one of the public Ga
aettesof tliis State, and at the door of the Court House, where
such sales are to be held.
•'Notice for the sale of Personal Property must be given in like man
■or, FORTY days previous to the day of sale.
‘Notice to the Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published
for FORTY DAYS.
■Notice that application will be made to the Co n( t of Ordinary for
'leave to sell LAND, must be published for FOUR MONTHS.
Notice for leave to sell NEGROES, must be published for FOl R
MONTH."m before any order absolute shall be made by the Court.
Title* of Hie Garden of K >»ciu. ko.
Colonel Knapp is about to favor the reading
public with another volume from his never-wea
ried pen, to comprise a number of original tales.
The work, we are told, will Le published in a
few days, and the following are the subjects
and titles of the stories which it is to contain,
viz : Ist. The Provost Prison. 2d. The Mani
ac. 3d. The Blacksmith. 4th. The Acluhua.
sth. The Tenson. 6th. The Lost Child. 7ih.
The Troglodytes. Blh. My Dog. 9th. The
Exile. Whoever has passed through the High
lands recently by day light, will have seen
uj on the verge of the esplanade of West Point,
a tas'eful marble monument, erected by the
Cadets to the memory of Kosciusko. Beneath
the monument, perhaps half way down the wu
ter’s edge, is a little grotto, under the bank,
shaded more deeply by the umbrage of the trees,
A clear spring gushes forth from the rocks;
and it was here that the noble Pole was wont to
-sip his wine, and regale his friends, when the
army of the Revolution was located among the
fastnesses of the Highlands. There were a
few square yards of earth in (rout of the grotto,
which Kosciusko cultivated wiih liisown hands,
wnd the spot has been designated as “ Koscius
ko’s Garden,” ever since. Hence the title of
'Colonel Knapp’s book. — N. 1. Com, Adv.
From the Tales of the Garden of Kosciusko.
The Provost Prison.
“ The miserable have no other medicine,
Hut only hope!”
“ I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to di‘>.”
There is no spot on earth, it is said, but has
supplied a grave ; and it may he added, there is
no acre of ground we tread upon, hut has, if we
know all about it, son e epic tale that would
consecrate its memory, and excite our lasting
wonder. This doctrine was forcibly impressed]
upon my mind a few days since, as I was ad
tnriiring the lights and shallows as they fell tipou
and between the lonic columns of the finely pro
[portioned Grecian building, on the east side of
The Park, near the City Hall. As 1 stood gaz
ing on the classic edifice, admiring its symme
try and beauty, a friend joined me, arid on my
informing him of the subject of my contempla
tion, he observed, — 1 suppose you are acquaint
ed with the fact that this building, now turned
to n Grecian Temple, was the old jail which
was built many years before the revolutionary
war, and was used as a provost prison, afier the
British took possession of the city of New\ork,
until the war was closet!. If these walls had ft
tongue, said he, how ivuuiv tales of horror could
they relate of suffering and of death. Among
thft sad stories of the place, of tiie old Sugar -
house, and the Jersey prison-ship, there is one
which was related to me by a brave officer of
the revolutionary army, lately deceased, and
which has fixed itself on my mind more distinct-
Jv than any other. The officer belonged to the
American armv which in the autumn of 1< tO
was nt West Chester. —He was acting as *
Commissary to the troops of the Massachusetts
line, and when the stock of provisions grow
scarce, he took a party of light infantry, and
went out to collect some grain in the neighbor
hood. Some delay occurring by the breaking
down of a wagon, the Americans were overta
ken by a large body of the enemy, both infant
ry and cavalry, and after a short conflict, the
Americans retreated ton wood near them, and
made their escape. The commissary was an
accomplished swordsman, and being well mount
ed, he did not attempt to reach the wood, hut
•making a desperate struggle for life and liberty,
he rushed upon the cavalry, and cutting right
and left, while Ins horse was in full speed, pus
hed them with only a slight wound ; hut he had
not galloped but a few rods, when another party
of horsemen coming from a cross road, made it
impossible for him to escape, and he yielded
himself a prisoner, which lie did not consider
much preferable to death, as all who were cap
tured then were held as rebels, and liable to suf
fer death at the caprice of their captors; but
-hat they might not proceed to extremities was
all the consolation his case admitted of. British
officers, among whom were many humane men.
justified the severity then practised toward pri
soners, on the plea that severity to a few would,
in the end, be mercy to many, and stop the effu
sion ofhuman blood by bringing about a speedy
reconciliation between the two countiies; but
those who reasoned in this wav, knew nothing
of the people they had to contend with. They
were born in oppression, and grew by it; they
had known no indulgence, and they expected
no protection. in the constitution of every
man was incorporated an indomitable opposi
tion to usurpation, and the united forces of
the world could not have cured them of their re
publican feelings.
The commissary was brought to the city and
thrown into the Provost prison. He had fought
bravely, and this with Britons is always a pass
port to esteem. Some of his captors told the
orderly who conducted him to prison, to see
that he had as good a room as the prison afford
ed. But while they performed this order, they
robbed him of every thing valuable about his
person. He was to have the best room in the
prison ; hut bad indeed was the best! It was a
room in the southwestern corner of the build
ina on the second ffoor—not more than twenty
feet by sixteen in size. In this room were
crowded eleven poor wretches —a selection of
the best of the prisoners—those at least of the
highest grades in society. All but one of them
were sick, although they had been there but a
, few weeks. One prisoner in particular attract,
jj ed the commissary’s attention. The sick man
1 made one deep groan, hid his face, attd was si-
J lent. At the time the commissary entered the
e prison, the inmates were only allowed one soli
’! tary tallow candle to assist them in their whole
j operation in taking care of the sick and dying.
The youth who was on the floor knew his neigh.
I hor and his father’s friend, but he had made up
his mind to die without a murmur or sigh, and
e in fact, without a disclosure of his name ; but
r t in the afiernoon of the next day, as the rays of
the sun fell through the grates into the room—
e there was no City Hall there at the lime—the
commissary thought the countenance of the
11 youth familiar to him, but when or where he had
d seen him he could not recollect. 'Phis often
happens to those w hose lives are spent in passing
r from one part of the world to another.—As the
surgeon, a good jolly looking fellow, entered
1 the room on a visit of ceremony, merely to
]' take an account of those who had died the last
twenty four hours, the commissary a man whose
: appearance bore the spirit of command, in a tone
not altogether familiar to the ears of a surgeon
. in a prison, directed him to attend to that youth,
i and to have him removed to the hospital. Non
i sense! replied the leech, he was sent here to
, die. I satisfy my conscience, that is enough.
But looking on the commissary with a slight
degree of respect, he replied, if you wish it, 1
will look at his case; I thii 1c you were the offi
• cer who was taken yesterday, and brought to
the city- 1 was taken yesterday, was the an
swer.—Well, well, said the surgeon, I havejiut
, been to visit three of the number of those you
wounded in the fight yesterday. What a ter
rific cut and thrust fellow you must have been
to have given so many shocking wounds as you
did in a running fight for life ; 1 must inform
you, si r, that one of the wounded officers order
ed me to come and see you, for he feared that
you had received a sad wound in the abdomen,
and required attention. I should have been run
through the body, said the commissary, if the
point of his sword had not been stopped by strik
ing my watch ; this preserved my life. The
surgeon, halfpropitiated, called out to the young
man then apparently senseless before him, Bor,
‘ open your eyes and your mouth—let me feel
of your pulse. This was done in a mechanical
sort of manner by the surgeon. The patient
■ obeyed. When the former had been gone
through with, the surgeon turning to the offi
cer, said, there is nothing the matter with the
i lad, that does not arise from hunger and grief.
! ] A bowl of broth, and the sight of his mother,
1 would cure him in a short time. I will try to
do something for him.
The young man now raised himself from tho |
I floor,'and in the most courteous manner thanked
f the gentlemen for their kindness; and at the
1, same time aeknoledged that he had made up his
mind to die in silence —for he had joined the ar-
Ii my. he said, against his parents’ advice, having
run away from Harvard College for that pur
pose. The commissary soon recognized the
son of the clergyman of his own parish, in the
sick youth before him. The surgeon being
made acquainted with the standing of his pa
tient, was still more inclined to ho his friend, as
he himself was the son of a good vicar in his
own country. In a short time, refreshments ar.
rived, and the youth was at once on a mending
hand, and continued so, taking courage from the
i commissary’s firmness.
On the evening of the eleventh day ofhiscnp-
Tnre, the commissary was standing at the grates
of his prison window, catching the last rays of
the setting sun, and thinking of his family, his
i country, and running through a long series of
melancholy forebodings, such as fill the visions
of a father, a husband, and a patriot in such an
hour, when he was summoned to an audience
with a stranger m the jailor’s room. Well, he
exclaimed, perhaps some new disaster; God give
) me strength tor ihe occasion; I will not distrust
! j him. The summons was imperative, and as he
j entered the room, a stranger in the garb of an
i . officer motioned the jailor to be gone. This was
• I done with the air of one having authority ; and
; the man of bolts and bars, of chains and fetters,
instantly retired. The jailor having departed,
the British officer addressed the prisoner in the
; following categorical manner. Sir, were you
1 ever on the West India station ? I have often
i been in the West Indies, was the reply ; for
. seven years and more 1 was master of a brig in
; that trade, from this country. The. next ques
, tion was, Do you recollect having performed any
. i acton that station in 1769, which you remem
. 1 her with pleasure?—No, sir, said tho cornmis-
I j sary, I do not recollect any thing of an extraor
■ I dinary nature in the whole course of my life, in
: ; which I had any shaic, although my life has
I > been full of vicissitudes. The only thing I ever
thought worth mentioning in my life is, that du
ring the whole time I was in the West India bu
. siness, I never lost a man by disease or accident.
My c ews were carefully selected, fed well, kept
i ch aniy and temperate, and under the strictest
i discipline
They would obey me to the jeopardy of the r
. lives, without a reluctant look or a single inur
, mur. This is very well, said the stranger; but
. do you not recollect leaping into the sea when a
’ young Englishman was amusing himselfiii the
t water, and a cry was uttered from those in the
[ boat that a shark was near; and of rescuing that
r young man from the jaws of the monster; the
people of his own boat fearing to save him ?
I The fact, sir, is within my recollection, if it is of
■ any importance for you to know it, said the
. commissary ; but I must add in justice, that it
f did not require so much courage as you ima
. gine, to have done this; my faithful black man
was with me, and 1 ordered him to leap into
I the water with a boat hook, and attack the
. shark, while I swam to the assistance cf the
. gentleman; and Ctesar gave the monster a
; wound before I had reached the sinking and ex
> hausted swimmer. The black run the greatest
• risk, as a shark is guided more by scent than
■ bv sight, and would have attacked, him first.
> Why, said the inquirer, did you not seek out the
; gentleman you saved, and at least have witness
t ed his gratitude after his preservation? I did
- not see him afterward, for a very good reason,
r said the commissary ; my vessel was then ready
3 for sea, the wind was fair, and I was taking out
t to her the last article for our voyage, when we
a saw the danger of the young officer you men
i tion. Have you any keepsake from the gentle
% man? was the next inquiry. 1 took the gentle-
man to my own boat rather than his, as mine was
low in the water, and I was certain of the t.ssis
tance of my men; his clothes were brought on
hoard of my boat and some days afterwards
I found his military stock in it. I saved it, and
finding it had a valuable buckle, I had it put into
one of my stocks; which I wore, hoping one day
tohaveanopportunity of returningit. I wore it on
my neck the day 1 was taken prisoner by your for
ces. Should you know the buckle without the
stock ifyou could examine it, inquired the stran
ger? 1 think so, wasthe answer; but I prefer not to
be iti errogated on his ibis subject, said the corn
commissary. Yet I will examine the buckle if
you have it. The buckle was produced, and
at once recognized. The Britisll officer then
arose, and with the greatest emotion grasped
the hand of the prisoner, and declared himself
to be Sir John Cnsiiehousc, of his majesty’s ser
vice, under {Sir William Howe, commander-in
chief in America; and greet'd the commissa
ry as among the bravest and most philanthropic
men he had ever known, —and added, this, sir, is
the happiest moment of my life. 1 have now,
thank God,anopportunily ofmakingsome return
tonne who has Ventured his life tosavemine. You
are aware, my dear sir, said Sir John, that you
are all considered as rebels, and no exchange of
prisoners can be made, but I can effect your es
cape. To this the commisnry objected, as it
might be the means of bringing evil on a young
officer; but the reply was, my friends and family
connections are sufficient to protect me in such
a course. I know Sir William will forgive me,
when he is acquainted with the motives and my
obligations to yon. The love of liberty in a
prisoner requires but few arguments to he brought
to its aid to overcome many scruples on the score
of duty. Sir John wrote a note, and calling his
servant who was in waiting, sent it off at once.
It was arranged that at midnight a horse should
be found behind the fence at the next pasture—
which was where Walker-street now is—and a
guard ready to conduct him to the American
Camp.—The prisoner was covered with the Bri
tish officer’s cloak and hat, and directed, if stop
ped on the way, to give his name as Sir John Cas
tlehouso, and ride on. The contersigned also
was communicated. All being in readiness. Sir
John inquired if Caesar was still a slave, and if he
was, what sum would liberate him? The com
missary answered that Caasar was a free man,
and added, he was with me just before I was ta
ken. 1 had despatched him with a load of grain
for the camp, when I w-as surrounded by your
forces. A purse of guineas was sent to Ctesar.
At this moment the commissary took occasion
t« name his fellow prisoner, the parson’s son,
and the kindness of the doctor. They shall not
bo forgotten, on mv honor, was the brief reply,
and adding, as you have brought the slock buck
le for me, I will keep it but in exchange you must
take the one I now wear. —After some hesita
tion il was accepted. The commissary now
started, and reached in safety the head-quarters
of the American commander-in-chief. The offi
cers were rejoiced to see him, hut he was silent
on the mode of his escape, not knowing how the
event might affect Sir John.
The Commissary finding that his health was
impaired, returned to his native state, and when
recovered, accepted the command of a large ar
med ship, then ready for sea. He thought him.
self better qualified for sea service than for the
army. During the six years of the war which
remained, he followed the seas with various suc
cess, but always supporting the character of a
man who was as humane as brave. His chil
dren have at the present day many acknowledg
ments from his captives of his generosity and
kindness. If for a moment he had the rough
ness of the sailor, it was only for a moment;
the bettoi qualifies of his heart always predom
inated —The history of his adventures during
the war, written out, would make a volume. He
was once taken and carried to England, and
for a while confined in Mill Prison, from whence
he made his escape to France, and was sent from
thence with despatches from Dr. Franklin.
These were brought and preserved in the crown
of a tarpaulin hat, which was not opened until
he reached the floor of Congress. That body
passed him a vote of thanks for his important
services, hut forgot to think of any remunera
tion. Thinking, perhaps, as they afterwards
said, that Dr. Franklin must have taken care of
that; but nothing was received from Franklin,
as the minister’s certificate, obtained several
years af.erwards, states. On the return from
his first cruise, which was successful, he saw
the collegian, who informed the commissary
that he was soon taken from the prison, and set
to copying papers, asil was found he wrote an
excellent hand, and in a few months released al
together, and suffered to depart for his home,
and provided with clothes and money ; and he
also brought the lhanksof thedoctor to his friend,
who introduced Ins name to Sir John. The bar
onet instantly took him into favor. The colle
gian then, is no\v a venerable clergyman, and
often recounts to the children of his benefactor
the horrors of his confinement, and the services
their father had rendered him.
Several years after the peace of 1753, the
commissary, as we shall continue to call him,
for so did his acquaintances, although he had
served hut a short time in that capacity, and rna
ny years as a mariner, sailed for Saint Peters
burgh, for a cargo of hemp and iron,—and has
often, in the pride of his heart, stated that the
ship he commanded wasthe first American ves
sel that gave the star-spangled banner to the
breeze in St. Petersburg. The event excited
no small degree of attention in Russia; hut what
g. ve the commissary the most delight was, to
find Sir John Castlehouse there in a diplomatic
character.—The minister treated his old friend
with every mark of attention and affection, and
introduced him as his personal benefactor to the
Empress Catharine, to whom the story of his
fearless philanthropy was made known. She
received him graciously, and turning to Sir John,
she with some surprise remarked, “This native
American looks very much like an Englishman.
Are ail his seamen of the same complexion?
Do they build their own ships, or buy them from
the English ?” Sir John replied to these ques
tions with a suppressed, smile, in a manner quite
satisfactory to his friend, and equally astonish
ing to the Empress. In a few days the Em
press sent for the commissary, and offered him
a high command in her navy, saying that she
had heard from Sir John the history of his naval
exploits, which probably had been a little color-
ja_xMEmri_ i * ini m n % i>if 1 dhtw'
3 ed by the warmth of friendship. The offer was
- mot with a flow of gratitude, but tlie purport ot
i his answer was, that having a family in Ameri
i ca, he would consult his wife upon the subject
1 on his return home, and if she approved ol if,
) he would accept of her generous offer ; —and ad
t ded also, we think so much of your sex in our
i country, that it is a maxim with us, that “ A
man to prosper in any undertaking, must enn
; suit his wife.” The Empress smiled at thecom
. pliment to her sex, and observed, “ Then il your
> wife consents to visit Russia. ! may expect your
. services—the place shall he reserved for you
f eighteen months.” The Empress issued an or-
I der to her revenue officers to give tho Arneri
i can captain every facility in obtaining his car
go, and fitting his ship for sea, and he found this
of no small importance in securing dispatch and
ia lessening expenses. He now took leave of
. Sir John, with a presentiment that he should ne
ver see him again “ till earth and ocean render
: up their dead.” No class of men indulge these
> presentiments more than sailors, and in this case
, it was a true one. Sir John died of the liver
i complaint in the East Indies, in military com
i mand there in 1799. '1 he Calcutta Hucarrah
i speaks of him in the highest terms as an officer
and a gentleman. It was understood that he
had made a will, as he was a bachelor ; but it
was never found.
; In October, 1826, the commissary made a visit
to the city of New-York to examine the old jail.
It vxis on the expiration of fifty years from his
, release. The building was still standing un
changed in the slightest degree. On entering
within the walls, it is true he did not sec prison
ers dying with the small pox, or with festering
' wounds and mutilated limbs ; but, in their stead,
; there was to bo seen a miserable group of poor
debtors, half naked, many of them had to sleep
1 on ihe bare floor, and to depend on accidental
• charity for subsistance. ‘ tie of them had been
closely confined six months, because he could
i not raise fees enough to taken advantage of the
poor debtor’s act. The old gentleman’s heart
bled to think the wretched place should, after
half a century, still be the abode of misery, not
i by state power, but by individual oppression; hut
• had he lived a few years longer than he did, he
; would have seen an entire change ; —the dark
• and awful looking walls become bright and lu
minous, the iron grates and bars removed, pond
erous lonic columns arise on the front and rear
i of tiie building exhibiting tho finest architectu
ral light and shade that can have ever been
exhibited in Athens, and the whole edifice
i devoted to the transactions of Probate business,
and the preservation of official records of es
tales, testate and intestate; and what would
, have gladdened his heart the mo. e, ho would
have learnt, that the power nf one individual
to make a slave of another fora trifling debt,
had been abolished ; and the reign of those petty
tyrants, hucksters and pettifoggers, was nearly
over throughout his whole country.
From ihe same.
Oliver OldSchoo*>"9 Rambles Down-Easi.
Nttmder 3.
“In the downhill of life, when I find I’m declining,
“May my fate no less fortunate he,
“Than a large elbow chair can afford for reclining
“With a cot that o’edooks ihe wide sea.”
Moore.
iSSai’SfSoliearf— lSr. !!y Hooper.
Messrs. Editors ;—in fulfilling my intention
to give you some particulars in relation to the
character of the inhabitants of Marblehead, it
will be proper to state, that these who have not
had the advantages of a good education, use a
dialect different from those of any other poisons
professing to speak the English language. It is
not provincial; there is something as outre in it
as that of Yorkshire, though entirely different.
For instances, they substitute in most cases, the
letter o for a, as tori for tart, hord for hard ; and
the letter e also takes tho place of o —tho word
town is pronounced tewn ; house, hewse. They
cannot speak the word athwart hut call it alhrrt:
wharf is pronounced broad, as waarfe, —and ma
ny nthei‘3 have a pronunciation peculiar to that
community. Tile original settlers came to Mar
blehead about tiie year J 630, from the fishing
towns of Portsmouth and Whipping in England,
and their descendants have not only followed
the profession of their fathers, hut their dialect is
kept up without alteration. There are no oth
er persons in the country who speak like them,
with the exception of perhaps the inhabitants of
the Isles of Shoals, near the harbor of Ports
mouth, New-Hampshire. The genteeler class
es speak the English language in great nuritv.
I found myself snugly seated in a room as
neat as wax, in an old mansion that had stood the
huffetings of t ,e storms of more than a century.
It was a two story gambl'd roof, the timbers of
which were of oak, and as sound as on the day
when they were felled in the forest, with a pro.
jection of five feet at the second story, the uni
versal fashion of building in those days; the win
dow shutters opening up and down, the upper one
fastened with a hook and staple. The sashes
were of lead and the panes formed in diamonds 1
offour inches each.
This was the residence of Molly Hooper, an
old nurse in our family wlien I was a picaninny.
Here sat Molly, with her foot wheel, dipping i
her shriveled fingers in water, wetting the flax 1
as it passed through them.—The floor was near-
Iy color ot snow, and the walls covered with pa
per captured in the revolution, decked with i
branches of trees, on which were perched pea
cocas and parrots. Piie ample fire-place studd
ed with tile, offour inches, illustrative of Esop’s
fables; and on either side of the room was hung 3
plaister medalions ot General and Ladv Wash- e
ington, and King George and Queen Charlotte,
thought to be in the day of them, most perfect j,
likenesses. j
[ gave Molly a gentle slap on the shoulder, 5
before she was aware of my presence. Molly, I 1
said 1, my good soul, how are you ? Your hand j
and a buss. “Hew do you dew, sir,” said Mol- P
lv, "your kewntenan u looks familiar—let me a
put on my specks. Lard, bless mv hort, Mr. c
Oldschooi, where did you come from? Surely e
you have been dead this twenty-vear. Dident t(
I ’tend you in your lost sickness'?” No, said I, ti
Molly, that was old Mr. Oldschooi, mv father.
“Well, I dew declare, yew look so much like c
him, that I thert it was his apparition. Well,
come, sit dewn, and let us talk abewtold times.”
I mean to, said I, Molly, but let us have a mouth,
ful to eat, for I have been travelling, and am
pretty considerable sharp set, I calculate. 7
“That you shall have, and welcome, ’said she; j
—l^-., mu utmi , j
x ’ ve jest put on the teakettle, and it wont be
more than filteeii minutes before it biles—jest
lake Cotton Mather and amewse yourself whilst
1 make a cake.” That’s right, Molly, make it
in the old-fashioned way ; you know how I used
to like it when 1 was a boy. ‘‘Never fear ofthatj
I have all the ingrediences of the first so t.”
I must describe, for your edification, the man
ner in which Molly made her jonny-cake, for
that is the name of the bread she was concoct
ing. Iwo platefuls of meal, brighter in color
than General Jackson’s gold, ground from’ corn
out of her own garden, was first put into a large
wooden bowl; a quantity of boiling water was
mixed with it; then a little heet suet, minced ve
ry fine, a lump of butter, and a spoonful of gin.
ger. “Shall I pul in a leetle molasses?” Yes,
Molly, if you have any of Mr. Rose’s suga r-house
treacle. “I never use any other, sir.” All these
were mixed up, secun'dern artem, and the paste
placed on a board made for the purpose, two
thirds of ;;n irch thick, twelve inches long, and
eight wide. The hearth was then swept us clean
as a pick, and at a distance of about a foot from
an oak fire, it was stationed in front of a flat
iron, which had been in use since the French
war. After remaining there fifteen minutes, it
was taken up, and the oilier side baked, when
it was placed in a dish, its brown as a berry, and
“ kivered” up in readiness for lea;
“ Ohj I forgot, Mr. Oldschool ; hew should
yew like to have a mackerel, fur tea; I’ve got
some that was cotch this afternoon, ns fat as but
ter. Or will you have a scroad broiled ?” A
scrond is a codfish varying from two to five
pounds, split, salted with fine salt, and hung up
foilr-and-twenty hours lo dry.
That’s a poser, Molly. 1 don’t know which
to choose. “ V V ell, if yew don’t I dew,” and be
fore you could say Jack Robinson, the scroad
was on the gridiron, and the mackerel in the fry
ing pan, floating in butter made in her own dai
ry. Molly was absent about three minutes—
she had been in her garden, and plucked some
fresh “ cowcumers and inions” as she termed
them, cut in delicate slices and dressed with vine
gar, salt and pepper.—“ How should you like a
piece of my sage cheese, Mr. Oldschool, with a
slice of apple-pie ?” Os ail things, Molly. The
table was set, covered with linen of her own
fabric, white as the Jriven snow. A dish of
Souchong was now poured out into a cup which
belonged to a set of her mother’s and used at
her wedding, some four score years bygone.
“Take some cream, Mr. Oldschool ?” It would
have made a New Yorker’s mouth water to iiave
seen it. Yes, and a lump of that lily-white su
gar. If I did not do justice to that supper, then
I had no appeti.e. Jennings never prepared so
good a one.
1 was 100 fatiiiiied to go abroad that evening,
and enjoyed myself with rny old crony till lute
in the evening. Molly, said I, have you never
been married? “No, sir, there isn’t a man in
the wide world that I would have.” That wasn’t
your tune in old times, Molly. “ No—there was
Mike Bevvden, that’s dead and agone, i would
have had him; I had my paddy sway [Padua soio]
dress made, and my wedding cake baked—but
the Lard saw fit to take him to himself, poor soul
(wiping her withered checks with the corner of
her checked apron,) hut its too melancholy a
subject to dwell on.”
I remember Mike, well, Molly—ho was with
Commodore Preble, in th« Essex frigate, in her
first trip to the Indian Seas; and was afterwards
with the same officer in the Tripolitan engage
ment, when he lost his life.—l’ve frequently
heard the Commodore speak in praise of Mike ;
what a gallant officer he was, and how much he
was beloved by the crew—
“ His form was of tin manliest beauty,
“ ills h art was kind and sort;
“ Faithful, below, h ■ did his duty,
“ But now h i’s gons aloft.”
1 was about to retire. “Mr. Oldschool, vou
are not a going to leave me.” It is getting laic,
Molly. “Why dear suz, I always keep a spare
bed, and that’s very much at your sarvice.” 1
did not decline. Before going to rest, I was
furnished with a dish of pan-dowdy, and another
ol hitked apples and milk. “ I have got some old
fashioned baked pudding and beans, with a loaf
of rye and Indian bread in the oven, for break
fast, Mr. Oldschool.”
Molly lighted me to rny room, which was in
keeping with the rest of the house for neatness,
and in a few minutes sleep overtook the eyelids
of Your friend,
OLIVER OLDSCHOOL.
i | .miiuni mmmmmm
“ISliimcAiTcos.LEGE ~
jOF THE STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA.
LEC TURES in this Institution, will begin on
the second Monday in November next, and
close on the first Saturday of March following.
Anatomy —J. Edwards Holbrook, M. I).
Demonstrator of Anatomy — Jno. Bellinger, M- D.
Surgery —John Wagner, M. 1).
Institutes and Pruct.ce oj Medicine —S. Hbnrt Di«-
son, M. D.
Chemistry — Edmund Raven el, M. D.
Materia Medico — Henry R. T’iiost, M. D.
Obstetrics — Thomas G. Prioleau, M. D.
Physiology —James Moultrie, Jr. M. D.
“ JAMES MOULTRIE. Jr. M. D. Dean.
The Editors of Newspapers in North-Carolina, Gsor
gin, Alabama, Florida, and elsewhere, who published
the above last year, are requested to do so this, and for
ward iheir accounts as above.
July 2 cowGw 5
SEVUKJEM*,
BV THE USE OF THE HVGEIAN VEGETABLE L’NIVEB
cJAL MEDICINES OF THE BRITISH COLLEGE
OF HEALTH—LONDON,
CTHICUhave obtained the approbation and recoin {
V s' mendatiou ofsome Thousands of Cures, in Con
sumptions, Cholera Morbus, Inflammation, internally oi
externally ; Dyspepsia, Fevers, Ague, Indigestion, Bil
lions or Nervous afl’ections, and al! diseases of the Liver;
Yellow Fever, Gout, Rheumatism, Lumbago, 'Tic Dou
leureti, Dropsy, St. Vitus’s Dance, Epilepsy, Apoplexy,
Paralysis, Palsy, Small Pox, Measles, Whooping Cough,
Scarlet Fever, Asthma, Jaundice, Gravel, Stone, Strict. 0
tires, Ruptures, and Syphilis, in all its stages; Constipated
Bowels, Worms, Scurvy, Itchinps of the Skin, King’s -
Evil, and all Cutaneous Disorders ; in short every com
plaint to which the human frame is so direlttlly subject,
under all their varied forms and names; as the Hygeian
conviction is, that Man is subject to one only Real Dis -
ease, that is, the Impurity of the Blood. , j
These medicines are composed only ot Vegetable mat.
er, and are warranted on oath to contain not one par- .
dele of mercurial, mineral or chemical substances.
O* Further particulars respecting their unpreeedent
:d success,mode otadministering,&.c. maybe hadof,
THOMAS RICHARDS,
Sole Agent for the City of Augusta
May 30 99 C
GOUTIIND FOR S'ale.
1»TO 835,15 th District,2d Section, a GOLDTRA'fT
For Sale. Apply at this office.
April 2«
TO RENT,
. The FIRE PROOF STORE, at
t”’'lm Pi® 36lll occupied by James McDowell, aui.
for an extensive dry good or grossr^
business.
The Fire Proof Storb and Dwelling, next below.
The three story Dwelling on Campbell street, occupi
ed bv M r. Anderson.
1 he three Story Fire Proof Store and Dwelling
above tiie Bridge Bank.
T. e two Story fire proof Store add Dwelling—No. 4;
Bridge Row.
The two Story wooden building below the lower Mar
ket at present occupied bv Mr. Dunbar
Apply to & BENNOCH.
July IS 1 w oct. 9
TO RENT,
From the first of October next.
The large white HOUSE on Elite.
c• tjMw street, fint below Henry .Mealing, Esq.—
I* l' ere are a,l aclusd to the premises all the
necessary out-buildings, and has a pump of
excellent w ater in the yard. Enquire on ihe p-etnisM:
WM. B. SHELTON.
August 12 - 16
TO THE IPUBLIC.
Jytprjk The Subscriber, truly thankful for
[sTivSt he liberal patronage heretofore bestowed
l p ß'llsw oll him, and desirous of a continuation and
n of that favor, lakes this method
of informing his friends and the public generally, that
he still continues to keep, in first rate style, the I’nioil
ISotW in Milledgeville. The advantageous location
ol his House io the business part of the town, is too weH
known (it being the house formerly kept by Robert
McComb) to need pointing out. Thu establishment is
large and commodious, and well adapted to the convent
ence ot either regular or tiansient boarders. The Ta
ble, Bar and Siahles will be constantly supplied with
the best the market affords; and no pains wtd be spar:
ed to render comtortablc and happy all persons who mas
call on him. Thus, with every advantage that cun con;
tribute to the accommodation of a public hoisse, toge
ther with the influence of a polite, studious and alien,
live barkeeper, the subscriber flutters hiifiself in be;
lieving that he cannot fail to Bieet with a liberal share of
public favours. AARON SEARCY:
Milledgeville, Aug. 5, 15 [Aug. 15—littj
O’ The Savannah Georgian, Columbus Sentiiel, Ail,
gusta Constitutionalistj Macon Telegraph, and Miners
Recorder, A Ufa tin, will pleaSe insert the abor* regular
ly until the Ist of November next, and forward their tic
counts to the subscriber for payment.
Milledgeville, Ga. August L 1834. A. S.
MOI/r’S HOTEL,
NEW-YORK.
THE above establishment having
ifif been in successful operation, for eighteen
•R* ISa® ttiollths, is now in complete order for the a6-
.£S3ggtgjja.iiotiimodation 0 f Ladies and Gentlemen visit,
ing the city, eiiher on business in for pleasure. In con*
sidefatiou of ihe present state ol the money market, tho
Pfoprietof has reduced his prices of board la the folloty,
ing rates, viz:
Gentlemen occupying double bedded df Compa
ny rooms, per day, each 91 oo
Those occupying single rooms, per day, each 1 9§
Ladies and Gentlemen, dining at the ladies’ la.
ble, per day, each 1 22
Meals served in private rooms, per day* each ex
tra . 50
Private Parlour, extra each 1 00
Tho Proprietor, returns his sincere acknowledgments
for the very extensive poironago lie has received at his
establishment, and pledges himself that nothing on his
part, or that of his household, shall be wanting to Merit
a continuation of past favors, and reader conffcftable*
those who may in future favor hint with a call;
HOURS FOR jtEAt-S.
Breakfast, from 7to 9 j Tea, front 7to 9
Dinner, do. 12 to 4 | Supper* do; 9to 13
ID" Doors neter closed.
STEPHEN HOLT.
New York. June 25, 1834. 7 w3ni
FIFTY DOLLARS REWARD.
til ANA WAY from the sub
sniber on the 29th of April 1832, a
likely dark complected negro marl
mimed BEN, about 22 or 3 years of
age, 5 feet 5 or 6 inches high, stout
made, and has a scar on one side of
his face, extending tlofn opposite thb
eye down the cheek bone, from an inch
to an inch and a half lung, he also has
a scar on the front part of one of his legs occasioned
by a cut, and his lips are thick and turn out. As ho
writes a tolerable hand, lie will no doubt pass himself
for a free man, or as one having leave to hire his owrt
time. The above reward will be paid on his delivery
to me residing near Augusta, of on his being lodged in
any Jail so that 1 can get hum
JAMES BEAL.
January 7,1834 67
O' The Charleston Courier, Columbus Sentinel, anti
Darien Telegraph, will please notice an alteration in
h<> above advertisement.
Thirty dollars Ttcward*
RUNAWAY from the subscriber ofl
the 17ih of July last, a dark mulatto boy
called S A M, about twenty six years Old,
A /fA- near five teet six inches high, rather
chunky built, thick cheeks or jaws,speaks
j low, and is artful; the small part of his
right leg having been broke or badly
■*7l hurt, shows very different from the left,
which is notable, and lie sajs done by a horse when he
was small; he wore away an old black fur hat, white co
lored short coat and pantaloons. Any person that will
apprehend said runaway and bring him to me, 10 milers
north we-a of Greenesborough, Greene County, or place
him in some sate jail, and give me notice so that 1 con
get iiim, shall have the above reward from the subscri
bcr. WILLIAM WATSON.
AognstS ts 15
O* T<> be published in the Columbis (S. C.) Teles,
cope weekly for two months ; the account may be sent
to this office.
FS2ICJE & IIALI EKYj
No. 258 Broad-sJrtet,
Have just received from N. York, a Fresh assortment oj
FashiosaaJilc Ready Made
G A 21 M E N T S,
CONSISTING OF 5
1T»0MBA ZIN, Crape Camblet, Merino and Linen
J7 J? Coats, Frock Coals, and Coatees.
India Grass ai d Insh Linen lt«und Jackets,
Bombazin, (.rape Camblet, Drilling,
and .Merino Cassimere Pantaloons,
Bombazin, Silk and Marseilles Vests,
Marseilles and Silk Stocks, Black Silk Hdkfs.
Linen and Cotton Drawers, Linen A Cotton Shirtsy
Shirt Collars and Fronts, Suspenders and Gloves.
ALSO,
An assortment of Fashionable Silk UMBRELLAS,
Black and Drab BEAVER HATS and Cloth Caps.
Which they will dispose of at reduced rates for cash
or approved city acceptance.
August 12 jg
NEW SPRING GOODS#
SXOWDEy A; SHEAR.
Have received this day from A’eio- York,
EXTRA Mourning Siriped Ginghams,
superior Black and Green Crape Cambists and
Black Bombazeens,
Extra Black Silks of various Styles,
Embroidered S.lk Muslin Hdkfs. and Rich Blond 6aczo
Mantles,
ALSO,
A large supply of FANCY AND STABLE ARTf*
CLES suitable for the City or Country trade, which
will be sold at low prices.
ALSO,
TOUR BAL ES OF VERY HE A VY
COTTON OSNABURGS*
Augusta, May 2, 1»34 9]